Friday, October 21, 2005

Love for the landlord and self-blacklisting

I ignored the warning signs when they were all there. It’s just that I wanted to live in the Village so badly in a decently sized apartment that I ignored my gut and handed over my signed check for $5K to the sketch realtor who posted the apt on a “No Fee” section of Craigslist. Ignoring my knowledge of basic contract law, ignoring the fact that the lease agreement also included a sketch addendum with sketch requirements such as a NYC phone # (LI and the area code 516 are considered long distance), having the super inspect all air conditioners (try waiting days for the super to ‘inspect’ your installation when it is 100 + degrees—luckily we said fuck it), finding out that the landlord’s son lives UPSTAIRS…directly above you, him watching all the sketchy Latin men come in and out of your apartment and hearing your roommate having loud sex with those sketchy Latin men. And you have my living situation.

My landlord and his family hates John and me. Yes, I said family. He works for mommy helping her manage the building of yuppies, a satus he doesn’t qualify for since he has to get yelled at by his mommy on days other than the requisite Thanksgiving and Christmas. I don’t think he hates me as much as he hates John; in his eyes I am just a fag hag who got caught up under the influence of a crazy Greek.

He is on a landlord’s son fueled power tip—trying to make our life a living hell since we live the life that he will never have. One of independence and real live people sex.

In his desire to make our life a living hell, he has taken a ‘special interest’ in the apartment, coming over to look for things wrong, calling me at work to bitch and moan about how much he hates John, sending over an incompetent super to fix things, withholding my mail key for a week…the list goes on, I am not going to bore you. The problem is that he harasses me just not enough for it to be considered harassment (I called the city this morning) but enough to annoy the fuck out of me.

At first I was polite and he answered my politeness with condescension and disdain. I then tried to be short with him and he still spoke to me like I was a child. Now it has gotten to the point where I have begun to answer his snotty comments with, “Listen, let me tell you my schedule. I leave my house at 8:30 am every morning and do not return home until after 10. I don’t have time to deal with this. As soon as Q4 hits, I do not know the inside of my apartment.” I sound important don’t I?! What he doesn’t know is that the reason I do not see the inside of my apartment is that I just resumed my heavy drinking since the weather got cold and the days got short.

At first I thought that his attitude came from him being a landlord’s son. One of those spoiled rich kids who were never able to hack it on their own so they get to take orders from mommy for the rest of their lives by running her buildings. Since I dated one of those types (went on 2 dates and only because my mother insisted because he was a rich Jewish boy), I learned their secret. Since they work for mommy…they have no idea what the real world is like. So you could make up the craziest shit that you have to do for work…and they believe you! My job has me working 80+ hours a week according to the schtick that I tell him!

Trying to figure out where this attitude came I analyzed our last few conversations after my preliminary analysis, and decided that it needed revision or an addition. His fucked up attitude has to come from something else…I have never encountered an attitude like that before. After a few conversations, and trying to hold a coherent conversation with him and him not being able to follow, I came to the realization that he had to be mildly retarded/incredibly socially awkward. That could be the only way for me to rationalize his fucked up attitude. After speaking with a few of the tenants (I am in the process of trying to organize them—he doesn’t know who he’s fucked with. I will fuck him over), they told me some real horror stories. Remembering that kid from that ‘80’s tv show “Life Goes On” you know, Corky, the kid with down syndrome? Could you imagine Corky yelling at people?! He just wanted to be understood. So that hypothesis went out the window…too mean to be like Corky.

And that is what I have been trying to do. Understand him. Empathize with him. And by imagining myself in his situation…living alone, being in my mid 30’s, living in one of mommy’s apts as I worked for her and never having friends over (I have never seen him with anyone and when I saw him waiting outside I jokingly asked him if he was “Waiting for a hot date”. Let’s say he was less than receptive to that joke), nevermind a real live woman to have sex with…I realized that his attitude is from pent up sexual frustration and jealousy of my roommate’s life. I bet he hasn’t gotten laid in a really long time.

So I decided that he needed my help. I selflessly stepped up to the challenge.

I posted an ad on Craigslist for him as shown below: (Click on it to read it):






I figured if he is getting regular sex and has a woman to occupy his time, he’ll stop being a dick to me and leave me the fuck alone. And if he gets a ‘present’ in the form of a puss filled nodule then score one for me.

If this plan doesn’t work, then I am going to have to involve God.

I think he’s Jewish so I am putting a Mezuzah up on my door. Traditionally, they are supposed to ward off evil spirits, I am hoping to ward off an evil landlord. If he thinks I am a fellow member of the tribe, maybe he’ll stop treating me like a warring nation. And if he isn’t Jewish and says that the mezuzah is permanently ruining his doorpost (it has to be nailed in or stuck on), then he is infringing upon my religious right.

But it is nights like tonight that make me question whether my high rent, fighting with my landlord, and having a poor Feng Shui apartment are worth it as I was with an old friend, looking for a cute place to have a drink around my apartment. Whether its all worth it considering that I can no longer take advantage of my awesome area because I have self-blacklisted myself from 90% of the cute bars and several streets in a four block radius. .

Self-blacklisting, a term I invented and perfected, involves going to an awesome place, either on a date or with a group of friends and making such an ass out of yourself either by drunkenly making out with random dudes, dancing on bars, vomiting anywhere in the bars vicinity, or just being an asshole. You made such a drunken ass out of yourself that you are embarrassed to run into one of the people who you embarrassed yourself in front of.

I have realized that I am self-blacklisted from all of my favorite places and a few blocks around my apartment.

This became abundantly clear when we had to walk a block out of our way as to avoid passing some guys apartment who I made an ass out of myself in front of, and it felt like an enlightment from Jesus when I realized we had to walk into the SoHo Tribeca area because I have a high probability running into people who I would much rather forget that I embarrassed myself.

2 Comments:

At 4:23 PM, Blogger Elessar Avenflame said...

freakin hilarous

 
At 12:10 AM, Blogger Beauty In A Can said...

Hahaha.. okay that made me laugh out loud. You're hilarious!! Love you and miss you. I wanna go on adventures with you girlie girl. I need to start living. ;/

 

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