Rancid Garbage and Swamp Ass

When we moved into our apartment, we quickly realized that we were going to have a long and difficult struggle with our neighbor below us, who isn't the most sanitary man. The man is a serious hoarder and slob, leaving garbage all over his apartment. Of course, when you fill your home with garbage it's going to begin to stink. You know where I'm going with this...right?

Minus the rancid apartment, John was a friendly guy who would frequently accompany me during our nightly Tenants Association Meetings in the back of the parking lot. We would joke around about our theories of why Mark disappeared, the Harrison House, and movies. When he said he was moving I was a little disappointed, though I secretly was extremely excited. By John moving out, it meant that my apartment wouldn't smell anymore due to the odors creeping into my place.

A few weeks ago, John and his girlfriend began to move their shit out of their apartment and into their new place. Of course he didn't move everything at once, instead he left a bulk of what can only be described as garbage and his four cats in the apartment while he moved himself in to his new place. John didn't return for almost a week to finally retrieve his cats. Everything else has staid, including the car filled with trash that I complained about a couple of months ago.

John and Amanda have been gone for about three weeks. The apartment has not had electric since they moved, all of the windows are shut tight, and there is trash on the floor that spreads wall to wall. The trash includes everything from McDonald's bags and wrappers to empty water bottles.

Over the last few days, I have noticed an influx of flies in our apartment, which have obviously been traveling from his apartment into ours. Additionally, the nauseating smells of rancid garbage, cat shit, and swamp ass have been traveling through the walls and floor into our apartment. It's fucking horrible.

No matter how much I clean my apartment, I can't get rid of the smell. The smell can only be described as something died in his apartment and the corpse became reanimated, traveled into our apartment, and died a second time.

The final straw came today when I walked into my apartment and smelled cat shit. I checked all the usual places for shit (the tub, behind the toilet, under the bed) and found no shit. As nasty as it sounds, I even shoved my face near each of the three litter boxes, but smelled absolutely nothing. I originally chalked it up as Sasha being Sasha and making her extremely stinky poos, but when Rachel came home an 1.5 hours later, she immediately noticed the smell. As we griped about the smell, she checked the usual places as well the litter boxes, but smelled nothing.

I was going to contact Mark's accountant, who has become the temporary supervisor of the building, but decided to be an adult and write John a message on Facebook telling him that his apartment smelled like soot and poo. It went something like this:

John,

I don't think there is anyway polite to say this, so I'm just going to be extremely blunt. I'm not sure what you have left behind in your apartment, but the smell is extremely nauseating and has permeated my apartment. Additionally, you seem to have amassed a collection of flies that have now found their way to our apartment. Finally, your car out back is full of rats and is beginning to smell. Nobody wants to take the garbage out, out of fear of encountering a creature from your car.

I don't know when you planned on finishing your move, but what has been left behind smells and it needs to be taken care of promptly. Each day, the smell is getting worse and worse, and I will soon have no choice but to contact Philip (Mark's accountant), who is currently managing the building or the Department of Health. Ultimately, if it isn't take care of promptly, I will have no choice to contact these individuals who would be more willing to take care of it and you way wind up facing fines.

We have been friendly in the past and I really don't want to take it to those extremes. However, i can't really stand dealing with the smell, flies, and rats that you have left behind.

Hopefully, he will get the message and clean up his apartment in the next day or so, or else he shall feel my wrath.

Rest in Peace

At the beginning of this month, Frank the barber stopped by our apartment for a brief, yet depressing conversation about Mark. As you know, Mark went missing back in March, within days of depositing our March rent. April came and went and there was no sign of Mark, even after several phone calls, a few texts, a visit to his house, and a wellness check from the police. Instead, my April rent check was in no-man's land, still not having been deposited come May.

As a precaution, Rachel and I went to my bank and had the April rent check cancelled and opened a second checking account just for our rent. Within hours of us arriving home, Frank stopped by to inform us that he stopped by Mark's house and spoke to Mark's sister. A few days earlier, Mark died in a hospital in Delaware of   pneumonia.

After learning this news, our neighbor John's initial reaction was, "did they find the key to the washer?" I kid you not. Glad to know the man is so overly sensitive to the fact that our landlord died.

As for what happens next, I'm not quite sure. The future of our apartment seems uncertain, especially since Mark's sister went back to Denver (where she lives) and his accountant will be handling the affairs of the building until further notice.

Mark Update

Rest assured, after doing some diligent research, Karen has found our landlord! He is a professional bowler! Who knew!

Mark Roth Bowling

The Strange Case of the Disappearing Landlord

Out of curiosity, what the hell does one do when their landlord disappears? Mark Roth has went missing. I kid you not. The man has mysteriously vanished for over a month now, and Rachel and I are at a lost to what the hell happens if he doesn't show back up.

Our rent is due by the end of the month, though we have a five day grace period (which we utilize quite frequently). As long as our rent check is in his hands by the fifth of the month, he's happy. We can either mail him the check or drive by his house and drop it off in his mailbox. Obviously we never mail the check into him, since we wait until the very last moment to pay the rent. 

Earlier this month, Rachel dropped went to drop off the rent and found his mailbox packed to the gills with mail. Even though it was odd for his mailbox to be that filled (it's a huge fucking mailbox), she squeezed our check into the box and came home. Since we've lived in the building, I've always noticed that Mark deposits our rent on the eighth or ninth of the month, so I thought it was odd that after a week of having our rent in his possession, the check still hadn't cleared. I kept a diligent eye on my bank account, checking it everyday to see if the rent cleared. 

By the middle of the month, I realized that something was fishy. My check was still not deposited, he wasn't returning any of my phone calls about our washer, and when Rachel called about the washer, the phone call went straight to voice mail. During our daily tenant association meetings in the parking lot, the entire building (except for our anti-social neighbor Amy), agreed that Mark was officially missing. Our theories of his disappearance were reaffirmed after speaking to Diane, who tried to call him and couldn't even leave a message because his voice mail was full.

Mark may be a flaky man; (I would even go so far as to call him the skid mark of the human population); but he's a very social man. His voice mail is never full, his phone always rings, and he'll answer my text messages (even if it's days later that he gets back to me). After giving it another two days, Rachel finally had enough last week and went to his house. She found no barking dogs, the garage door still hanging wide open, and nobody answering the door. She did what any responsible, caring, individual would do, she called the police and asked for a wellness check.

After going back and forth with the police for several hours last Tuesday, the police decided that they needed to find someone who had a key to Mark's house rather than bust the door down. Never mind the fact, that the man could be dead in his house and none of his family lives in the area, they had already made the decision to not bust down the door. You have to love the fact that the police are so considerate when dealing with possible life-threatening situations.

Of course, I have several theories as to what happened to Mark...

1. Mark skipped town to join the circus. Not just any circus, a gay circus filled with big gay clowns, big gay elephants, big gay lions eating big gay lion tamers, big gay trapeze artists, big gay cats jumping through big gay fiery rings...you get the picture.
2. Mark hasn't been paying his taxes and decided to take what he had and leave town. 
3. Mark went on vacation to Europe where he was attacked by a polar bear disguised as a tiger disguised as a polar bear. He's either laying in a European morgue or in a European hospital bed with no recollection of his name.
4. Mark died of natural causes in his house, possibly of an ailment that could have been treated if the police had busted down the door when Rachel called.
5. Mark died in his house and his dog has been slowly snacking on his body to keep from starving to death. (ew...)
6. Mark's psychotic ex-boyfriend was released from prison and hunted him down. He has a restraining order on the man for beating the shit out of him (which I think happened last summer, but I might be wrong as to when it actually happened).

I think you get the picture as to what may have happened to Mark. The major problem with Mark disappearing (besides the fact that he's missing) is that he is responsible for certain things in our building. For example, a part of our rent covers the water bill, the gas for the hot water heater, and the electricity for the hallways and outside perimeter of the building. Since he's obviously not around to cash our rent, he's not around to pay the above three bills. What happens when we run out of hot water because he didn't pay the gas bill? Hell what happens when we don't have water one morning because he hasn't paid the water bill.

If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears because I am clueless about this situation.

Letters

Dear Mark,
Thank you for finally not being cheap and fixing the hot water heater. I have been complaining about this situation for months and you finally decide to fix it without giving anyone a head's up that the job was going to take 36 hours and we would not have any hot water. It would have been nice to have a heads up that our building would be lacking hot water, I would have gladly ventured to Momma Dukes house to take a warm shower. I guess I shouldn't complain too much since I no longer have to clean myself in shifts (wash hair at night, wash body in the morning).

Sincerely,
Somewhat Satisfied Tenant

Dear John,
This isn't so much a thank you letter, more of a Please Clean Your Apartment, It Fucking Stinks note. I'm assuming that you are a hoarder. Why? Exhibit A: the disgusting mess that you call your car that has been sitting in the parking lot since last summer. Your car is filled from floor to ceiling with what can only be described as garbage. I believe there are more empty food containers in your car than any landfill in New Jersey. Since your car looks like three homeless men have made your automobile their new mobile home that doesn't actually travel anywhere, I can only assume that your apartment appears this way.

More importantly, there is Exhibit B: the obnoxious smell that radiates from your apartment into my apartment. I do believe whatever you have going on down there is toxic. I'm pretty confident to say that you may need to start wearing a hazmat suit to enter your apartment.

Please clean up your rat hole. If I can smell your three month old fruit and strange cat odors in my apartment then it's a problem. If you don't clean it up soon, I will have no choice to complain to Mark, and we both know how he feels about you.

Sincerely,
Nauseating Nostrils

Dear Math Department,
It has been fun working with you during the last few years, but the powers that be have decided that my services are no longer needed with the department. I will now be heading to the social studies department to perhaps shape them up. Please do not cry for, I am actually quite excited about this. In fact, I am actually thrilled. The last set of math notes will be sent you within the next two days, and I promise that they will be extremely entertaining.

Sincerely,
Former Math Teacher

Dear Winter,
Please make up your mind. I was under the impression that nasty winters never repeated themselves two years in a row. I enjoyed my snow days last year, but I have not mentally prepared myself for the onslaught of snow this year. In fact, I haven't been able to find a proper snow shovel or a new snow brush this year. If you are going to snow, please don't continuously change your mind. I have finally prepared myself for the snow storm that was supposed to occur on Tuesday, but have recently learned that you will be postponing the snowball fights until Wednesday. Please, make up your mind.

Sincerely,
Anti-Snow Days

Dear Students,
Please understand that this thank you note is actually a Catch-22, which is a term that will probably fly over your tiny little heads. Please start coming to school more often. When all three of you are absent on the same day, I am very productive and extremely bored with myself. I am also tired of writing lesson plans for the day only to have you not show up. While this could be resolved in simply pushing everything back a day, we have the small problem of Gold and Maroon Days. I cannot simply push today's plans to tomorrow since I don't see you as much on Gold Days. Instead, you will probably receive extra homework assignments tomorrow. I would apologize, but you brought this on yourself.

Sincerely,
Teacher

Dear Sasha,
We love that you like to spend time in the bathroom and I think it quite adorable that you want to stick your whole head underneath the faucet to get a drink of water. However, it isn't really nice to poop in the bath tub. I'm not sure where you got the idea that pooping in the tub was a good idea. It just makes your humans pissed off at you. As a result, you have been locked out of the bathroom until further notice.

Sincerely,
Human

Hornet Nest

After Comcast showed up early on Friday, Rachel and I decided to go out for breakfast at The Harrison House. On our way to the car, Diane, our neighbor, was also heading to her car. We started discussing the move, when she pointed out a hornets nest that was near our bedroom window. I thought she was referring to the wasp nest that Mark and Diddy had taken care of on Saturday, but she was actually referring to a new nest in front of our other bedroom window.


Bees - 1, Humans - 1

Before heading to breakfast, Rachel and I went to investigate the nest. There was a huge nest of hornets on the porch by the stairs to the third floor. In all my time in South Jersey, I had never actually seen any hornets. I’ve been stung by a fair share of yellow jackets and wasps, but was never stung by a hornet, so I wasn’t sure if I was even allergic to this new stingy insect. Diane was worried about the nest not only because it was so close to our window, but she was allergic to hornets. What is with all these people in Mullica Hill that are allergic to bees? Was that a requirement at some point to live in the town?


Rachel wanted to call Mark about the hornet nest, but I didn’t want to rely on him for a problem like this. The one thing I’ve learned from this moving experience, is that there are some issues that you have to deal with yourself or you will be on Mark’s Naughty List. After the last few weeks of hell with the moving situation, I felt that Rachel and I were finally off the Naughty List, and I didn’t want to take chances of returning to the list. I told Rachel that I would take care of the problem myself.

Dressed in my Sunday best (camo pants, a hooded long sleeve shirt, and towel wrapped around my face), I headed outside with my trusty can of Raid. I stood back and sprayed the nest, watching hornets drop like the wasps from Saturday. Of course there were about twice as many hornets as wasps, but only two managed to escape. I tried to spray them as they flew away, but they were agile flying creatures, and escaped the Raid. As for the nest, it was now drenched in Raid, and the hornets lay dead below.

Bees - 1, Humans - 2

Before I could bask in the glory of hornet genocide, Rachel noticed the two remaining hornets were trying to rebuild their hive on a different section of the porch by our window. I went out to check, and low and behold the two survivors were making some good progress on a new hive. Stupid hornets.

Bees - 2, Humans - 2

With the remaining contents of the Raid canister, I headed back outside to take care of Bonnie and Clyde. While they were working hard on rebuilding their hornet community, they didn’t realize that I was standing below them ready to kill. I sprayed the new hive with my insect genocide spray and watched Bonnie and Clyde join the remainder of their community - dead.

The hornets are still dead on the porch, I’m hoping the pile of dead bees will be a reminder to any other bees that I mean business.

Bees - 2, Humans - 3

The Move

Rachel and I officially moved into the new apartment last weekend (pictures to follow). Finally. I was beginning to worry and wonder whether the move was actually going to take place or not. When we originally talked to Mark about the apartment in May, his original timeline had us moving in during the middle of July. The middle of July turned into the last week of July…which then turned into the first week of August…which turned into the weekend of August 6th. The only part of the timeline that didn’t change, was the fact that we needed to be out of the apartment by August 9th because Mark needed 2S to be painted and ready by August 15th for the new tenants.

As August 6th approached, it was looking doubtful that we would be moving. The biggest obstacle was the stove. Mark had replaced the stove in 2N, removing the old stove but left the new stove in the garage. The new stove was a compact stove which would fit on the opposite wall of the old stove. Mark needed the electrician to come in to not only replace the fuses with a circuit breaker, but more importantly, install an outlet for the stove. By Friday, the stove was in the apartment, but there was no where to plug it in. Since Mark needed us out of 2S, we came to an agreement that we would move into 2N with the stove unhooked, with the condition that either he would move the compact stove to where the old stove was or the electrician would be back by Monday to install an outlet for the stove.

After Mark left Friday, Rachel and I closed off the hallway that joins the two apartments and opened the doors to both apartments. While Rachel and I cleaned 2N, Gerald and Sasha wondered freely from the two apartments, while Zonks hid under the bed. The first thing Rachel did was man-handle the fridge, which Rich and Kim (the previous tenants) left absolutely disgusting. The apartment didn’t have electric since they moved out, so the puddle of rancid meat juices was quite gross. Rachel may be poor at day to day upkeep, but when there are huge projects such as cleaning rancid meat juices out of a fridge or scrubbing a bathroom, she jumps right in. She gets double points for that.

Diddy came over later that night and the three of us decided to get ahead of schedule and start moving stuff over. The three of us moved a majority of the stuff from the bedrooms, consolidating two bedrooms worth of stuff into one. Sasha made herself cozy in 2N, while Gerald walked between our feet, roaming from 2N to 2S with curiosity. Zonks made the occasional appearance, which usually consisted of her poking her head in the doorway for a few seconds, then running back to 2S to hide.

Scratches in the floor

Rachel and I spent the night in 2S that night, so we had to cat wrangle Sasha and Gerald from 2N before heading to bed. Rachel had a prior obligation at Rowan to attend to for enrolling in grad school and wouldn’t be home till around noon. While she was at Rowan, Mark and the electrician were in 2N. I pointed out a few things in 2N that Rachel and I had noticed, (a few nasty scratches in the hardwood floor in the living room and two windows that had been painted shut). Mark said he would make note of the floors in our new lease and would have the painters open the windows. Since Mark kept getting in the electricians way, he was leaving for the morning, but would be back to clean up the kitchen and help us install a board in the window for the air conditioner.

By the time Rachel got home, the electrician had left for the day but told Mark that he would be back during the week to finish the job (the electrician still hasn‘t returned). All of the electric was working, he only had to finish changing everything over to a circuit breaker. For the time being, all of the electric would run on fuses, which we were already accustomed to using from living in 2S.

Mark returned in the afternoon, and we discussed the windows a second time. The two of us went through the apartment to check all of the windows, when I noticed three wasps in the bedroom window. At first Mark thought they were outside of the window, until I pointed out that you could see the front of them, so they were obviously between the window and the screen. Upon further inspection, Mark noticed a wasp hive in the corner of the window. He bangs on the corner of the window, causing about seven or eight wasps to come flying out of the hive. After telling me that he was allergic to wasps, he then devises a plan where we would open the window to open the screen in hopes that the wasps would fly out of the window. I’ve already decided that there was no way I was going to stick my hands in the window, so I call Diddy to assist. When a wasp flies into the apartment, Mark nearly cringes when she picks up a sneaker to kill the wasp resting on the window. After Mark leaves for he final time, Diddy and I head to Shop Left to buy some Raid to take care of the wasps. After she sprayed the hive, another eight wasps flew out from the hive, dropping to the bottom of the window in agonizing pain.

Bees - 0, Humans - 1

By Sunday night, Rachel and I were completely moved out of 2S and nearly finished with unpacking 2N. There would be no cable or internet until this past Friday, when Comcast came to install the cable and modem. Rachel made the appointment for Friday and they were supposed to come between 11 and 1, calling before they showed up to our apartment. Rachel and I were very surprised (and quite pissed) that they showed up at 9 am, two hours before they were supposed to be here. We had literally just woken up and were still laying in bed when we here someone at the door. At least we have cable and internet now.

After spending the first night in 2N, and using the bed rather than the futon, I had to wake up extra early for the plumber and painter on Monday. It was the return of Creepy Carl on Monday morning, who needed to fix the slow drain on the kitchen sink and the way the toilet flushed. Creepy Carl did a horrible job on the kitchen sink we realized later that night, when Rachel went to wash a couple of dishes. It took about 15 minutes for the sink to completely drain (compared to a five minute drain time before he “fixed” the sink). Not only did the drain take extra long, the faucet was now leaking.

Creepy Carl returned on Tuesday morning, with an attitude. We spent the first five minutes arguing about the way the sink drained.

Creepy Carl: There is nothing wrong with this sink.
Me: It drains slower than it did yesterday. What do you mean there is nothing wrong with the sink?
Creepy Carl: No two sinks are alike.
Me: Really? Your telling me that in all of the places that I’ve lived, I’ve never had a sink drain like this. They have always drained “normally.”
Creepy Carl: There is nothing wrong with this sink. It’s draining normally.
Me: Are you calling me a liar? Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than have the plumber come out for imaginary problems?
Creepy Carl: I’ll look at the sink again, but there’s nothing wrong with it. What’s wrong with the faucet?
Me: It wasn’t leaking until you came out and messed with the sink.
Creepy Carl: It was leaking yesterday when I was here.
Me: So you didn’t fix it then?

Needless to say, Creepy Carl kept his mouth shut for the rest of the morning and fixed the sink and faucet. I keep meaning to call George’s Plumbing to complain about the way Creepy Carl behaved, but I want to talk to Mark first to make sure that he wasn’t charged for two days of work, rather than one. I may not agree with the way Mark runs his apartment building, but it would be unethical if George’s Plumbing charged him extra for Creepy Carl’s mistakes.

Of course, between worrying about when we were moving to the actual move, I would up getting myself sick. I’m not battling a nasty head cold, that seems to not want to go away. I’ve spent the last few days lounging around the apartment doing absolutely nothing except getting frustrated with Rachel’s unpacking techniques.

Trash at the Langmore

I've complained about the landlord. I've complained about the laundry. Now it's time to complain about the trash.

As I've said, the Langmore is divided into five apartments (four are currently occupied) and two store fronts. At the rear of the parking lot, there are four trash large trash bins and a yellow can for recyclables. When we first moved into the building, Rich and Kim lived in the apartment next to ours (the unit we are moving into). Rich can only be described as the "extreme-macho man" and always took it upon himself to get things done around the building (trash, tree maintenance, shoveling snow, etc). In our town, trash needs to be taken out Tuesday nights for pick up on Wednesday morning.

Since Rich moved out two months ago, the building seems to be at a loss of who supposed to take out the trash. The week after Rich moved out, Rachel and I took the trash to the street. Apparently, by taking the trash out the first week, we have been assigned trash duty in the building. It's become an unspoken fact around the building. In the last two months, we've taken the trash out six times. Six times is equivalent to 80% of the trash removal from the building!

About a month ago, we came home late on Tuesday night and one of our neighbors took the trash out to the curb. A few weeks later, Rachel and I went to Laura's for fire and meat, and I thought it I was safe to assume that a neighbor would once again take care of the trash. I was very wrong. Of course, I didn't realize this until Wednesday morning when I was heading to work. As I pulled my car out of the driveway, I noticed that the trash cans were still in the back of the parking lot. Obviously I didn't have the time to take them out to the curb by this point, and headed to work instead, fuming the entire ride there.

Once again, Rachel and I were stuck doing trash duty. Of course Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl left the trash area a mess, with huge cardboard boxes on top of the trash bins, along with the vanity from our apartment and two heavy sinks in front of the walkway in front of the trash. Since the left the area a disaster, the rest of the building decided to do the same, throwing their trashbags on top of the recyclables container. I'm pretty sure that the plumbers were supposed to take all of their trash with them, and not leave it for the tenants to clean up, but then again we're talking about Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl.

Rachel and I did what any good tenant would do: we drug the heavy sinks and vanity to the back of the trash area and dumped them there. I'm sorry, it's not my responsibility to lug heavy sinks to the curb. Plus, I don't even think the trashmen will take anything that's not in a trash can. After throwing the boxes left by the plumbers on top of the mess the flower shop left in the back of the trash area (don't even get me started on the raccoon/rat infestation the flower shop has created). After leaving behind all the garbage the plumbers left for us, Rachel and I finally took the remaining trash out.

Golden Rule 7: Nobody wants to take your garbage out, especially your neighbors. Pitch in and take the bins out more than twice in a two month period. Your not special!

Golden Rule 8: Contractors are responsible for the trash they may bring to the site with them and all trash they create while there. Don't expect others to do your work for you. It's ignorant and rude.

Awkward Conversation

Before I begin my story, there are two things you need to understand about me: I absolutely detest the heat and when I am hungry I shake and become cranky. When you add those two elements together, I become a nightmare to be around. During the summer, I try to avoid being outside and stick to the air conditioned living room to play video games. Please, refrain from being jealous of the exciting and thrilling life I lead during the hot summer days.

Earlier this week, a very sick Rachel talked to Mark about the sink/vanity situation. During the phone call, Mark gave her a hard time about our cats and the way the litter box had been set up. When she got off the phone, she decided that it would be a good idea to shut off the air and open all of the windows. I tried to be a good sport and went along for the ride. After a few hours, I was a miserable mess and she was feeling the aftershock. We finally agreed on leaving the air on in the living room and opening the windows in the back of the apartment to “air” out the cats.

Of course, the apartment quickly became a sauna and by Saturday morning, I was grumpy. While she was still sleeping, I snuck to the back of the apartment and closed all the windows.

By Saturday evening, I quickly realized that the kitchen was lacking in the food department. I basically had three options to eat: cheese sticks, eggs, or a granola bar. I allowed myself to go to long before food and my body got the shakes and my mind went blank, resulting in ULTIMATE GRUMPINESS. Rachel made me some Easy Mac and we decided to make a list for the grocery store.

Rachel is very particular about her grocery lists. I’ve never seen a more organized list. The list always starts with the produce section and works its way around the store. Organized ideas are impossible when your brain is not functioning from the lack of food. In fact, the organized list is extremely scary (I actually did have a nightmare about the list trying to eat me later that night. Not cool.)

After we finally get our list together, we finally get out the door to go to the grocery store. I’m starting to feel better now that I have a little food in me and I’m ready to get this show on the road. We head into Shop Left and make our way through the list. Towards the end of the list is the soda. I have a 12-pack of Diet Cherry Vanilla Pepsi in my hands, but I quickly realize that Coke is on sale for much cheaper (one case of Pepsi was $5 while 5 cases of Coke were $11).

We head into the next aisle when the two of us have a communication breakdown about the soda. Rachel doesn’t want to buy the extra soda since we’re moving next week, while my math brain is realizing that we’re getting 3 cases of soda free. We both saw each other’s point, yet were having a mind melt on the soda issue.

As we’re talking about the soda situation, Mary (the custodian at Shop Left) enters the aisle. She begins to clean up a mess at the other end of the aisle, but quickly stops what she’s doing and approaches us. She doesn’t say a word but just stops a foot in front and just stares at us. Of course this ends our conversation about the soda, because we’re not exactly sure what to say. Has the woman never seen a lesbian couple bicker about soda before?

Frankly, I’ve never seen a lesbian couple bicker about soda before either, but I don’t think I would stop and stare. Honestly, what made it that much more awkward, was the fact that she approached us and stood a foot from us and just stared. It was like she wanted to put her input in the situation, but wasn’t sure what to say.

After paying for our groceries, I told Rachel that I wanted to complain about Gawker Mary to Harvey (my former boss). She heads to the car with the groceries while I ask to speak to Harvey. Of course, with my luck, Harvey had just left for the day so I was stuck talking to Jason, whom I also knew from my days at Stop and Shop.

I explain to Jason what happened and he gives me the puzzled face. I’m sure he didn’t even know how to respond to my complaint. It takes a moment, but he finally responds to my complaint.

Jason: We’re not allowed to ask what’s wrong up here (points finger to his forehead) but she’s a little slow. She’s a very sweet woman, but has a tendency to just stare. We actually have her on camera walking into an aisle and just stopping and staring at a shelf for a half hour.
Me: Oh. I feel a little bit better then.
Jason: She wasn’t staring because you were gay. She seems to just go in a trance.
Me: Well I guess in some weird way I feel a little bit better that she wasn’t staring at us for being gay.

Talk about an awkward conversation.

Pretty Thing

This week, Mark decided to actually start work on the new apartment, and knock a couple of things out in our apartment at the same time. Our new apartment has been painted (a light shade of dead grass) and the old, rusted, nasty stove has been moved out of the apartment (I believe the new stove is in the garage). Mark also planned to replace the sink/vanity in our apartment due to a broken hinge. He’s on a spending spree, why fix the cabinet when you can just replace it?

Mark called Rachel on Wednesday night and left a message that the plumber would be in to replace the vanity the following day, but they never showed. Instead, he had the plumbers come out on Friday, which is my day off. How enthused do you think I was when I heard someone at the door Friday morning?

I was still in bed when someone knocked on the door. Since I was still sleeping, I was not in the proper attire to answer the door and needed to find appropriate clothes. Mark knocks on the door and literally gives it five seconds, before he unlocks it himself and allows himself in. We’ve been sleeping in the living room due to the heat, so I’m now stuck in the living room wearing barely any clothes and Mark roughly five feet away from him. Of course I tell him to give me a minute to find clothes, which I don’t even think he heard since he headed straight to the bathroom to start measuring stuff in there.

After finding a shirt and shorts, I head towards the bathroom to talk to Mark (and find out what the hell is going on). At this point, it’s about 930, and Mark tells me that the plumber will be here in about an hour to complete the work. They were already upstairs working on another sink/vanity, and when they were finished there they would be right down. Apparently in Mark’s world, it takes about an hour to replace an entire vanity and sink.

I didn’t want to jump in the shower out of fear that he would invite himself in again, so I brush my teeth and started playing video games. At about 11:30, Creepy Carl enters the apartment with his tools and asks if I minded if he left his tools here while they went out for lunch. I told him that it wasn’t a problem and went about my business. Moments after Creepy Carl leaves, Mikey Mullet arrives with his tools.

Before I continue, I need to explain the appearance of Mikey Mullet. Mikey Mullet is in his fifties with a full beer belly and THE most attractive mullet I have ever laid eyes on. Picture extremely short, gray hair at the top with a braided ponytail in the back. We’re not talking a rat tail, more on the lines of full head of hair in the back that has been braided.

Mikey Mullet decides that it would be extremely appropriate to A) call me “pretty-thing” and B) comment on my legs. After dropping off his tools, he asks me if I would like to bring my pretty face to lunch with them. What do you even say to that?

No thank you, I live here and have plenty of food.
I’m antisocial.
Only if I can play with your mullet?
No thank you. I have bad gas today.

Seeing that I was completely caught off guard, the only thing that came to mind was “No thank you.” How lame was that response? Definitely kicking myself in the ass on that one.

Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl leave for lunch, but again as much as showering sounds like a great idea, I’m still nervous that Mark will invite himself in at any moment. Plus, I now have the obstacle course that the plumbers created by leaving their tools from one end of the hallway to the other. I kept having visions of getting out of the shower and tripping over a power cord or screwdriver and banging my head on a hammer, leaving me naked and unconscious for Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl to find. Definitely no showering for me!

Mikey Mullet and Creepy Carl finally come back at one to work on the vanity. Really! An hour and half for lunch! I’m a little curious if Mark was being charged by the hour or the job. Mikey Mullet enters with the already built vanity. Again, he refers to me as “pretty-thing” and asks what I think of the new vanity, making a joke about no refunds. At this point, I’m honestly ready to hit the man in his nut sack with a bag of flour. What the hell does “pretty-thing” even mean?

For the next two and half hours, the creepy plumbers are in the bathroom and I’m counting down the minutes till Rachel comes home, so I don’t have to be in the apartment alone with Mikey Mullet any longer. Finally, rescue seems close when she calls on her way home from work (don’t worry, she has a fancy Bluetooth…no ticket for her). Only a half hour left with my new plumbing friends.

Of course, I want to tell her about Mikey Mullet, but can’t exactly talk about his AMAZING hair when he’s in the other room. I simply tell her that I can’t wait till she gets home so that she can see what I’ve been dealing with all day.

I honestly wish I had a way to picture Rachel’s face when she saw Mikey Mullet’s hair for the first time. It was combination of curiosity and amazement all at the same time. I’m actually debating on whether to grow my hair out in the same fashion.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

In August of 2009, Rachel and I moved into a two bedroom apartment located in The Langmore, a historical building located in Mullica Hill. Our apartment came with hardwood floors, a porch/balcony, and a garage. Our landlord Mark, can only be explained as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, since one minute he is pleasant with a touch of goofy and the next minute he is grouchy, as if someone shoved something up his pooper and he can’t get it out.

During the tour of the building and lease signing, we dealt with Dr. Jekyll. The man was eager to please, willing to negotiate the price of the nonrefundable cat deposit, going from his original asking price of $750 to $250. Of course it wasn’t until after we had already signed the lease, that Mr. Hyde came out.

First, there was the problem with the fridge. Prior to the move, Rachel and I came to the empty apartment and scrubbed the place from the floorboards to the ceiling. Rachel soon realized there was a huge problem with the fridge. Since the previous tenants had left the fridge/freezer doors closed with no electricity, it began to grow mold. The seal on the freezer had been broken and the mold spread into it. Originally, Mark agreed to have the fridge replaced, but then backed out on his agreement. He then said he would have a cleaning crew come out, but failed to even do that. At this point, we had been living in the apartment for about a month and been using two mini-fridges. Finally, after going back and forth about the fridge, he finally replaced it.

Roughly a month after replacing the fridge, the ceiling above the shower began to leak. Imagine the horror of taking a shower and brown water dropping on your forehead when you're about to get out. I called Mr. Hyde, who explained that it was normal for old buildings to leak from time to time and “not to worry about it.”

Let me get this straight, I’m not supposed to worry that there is water dripping from the ceiling that looks and smells like rancid diarrhea? Within days of the initial leak, the ceiling began to rain. About seven or eight different spots in the ceiling began to leak, then the walls started. Again, we made more phone calls, and even called the plumber. This only made Mr. Hyde even more angry, until the problem was finally fixed. (Turns out that the apartment above us had a leaking shower faucet and failed to say anything about it. The water leaked into the caulking of her tub, leaked into the walls, and eventually dripped into our bathroom).

Rachel and I decided we would only call Mark on emergency situations, and have only had to deal with him a handful of times since the tub incident. When I learned of my layoff, our neighbors, Rich and Kim, moved out and Mark had put up a notice for a one bedroom apartment for rent. Rachel and I jumped on the opportunity, since it would save us roughly $150 a month in rent. We made arrangements with Mark, with us moving into the new apartment by July 15th and new tenants moving into our apartment by late July. Prior to the move he wanted to have lots of work done on both apartments, such as the electric (changing the fuse boxes into circuit breakers), painting both apartments (the new apartment has a fire engine red dining room and black bathroom), and replacing the sink and vanity in our current apartment.

In early July, Rachel and I were both at work, when he entered our apartment unannounced. (In NJ, there are laws protecting tenants, such as landlord needing to give 24 hours notice before entering an apartment alone). Rachel and I had been extremely busy that week, and our place had become “a little” messy. Mr. Hyde had the nerve to leave a note in our bathroom sink that our cats smelled!

I’m sorry…excuse me! You weren’t even supposed to be in our apartment!

In early July, Mark gave Stephanie and her daughter, the tenants to our apartment, a tour of our place, Since we had notice of the tour, Rachel and I scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom. We made sure that every nook and cranny had been cleaned. Mark made no mention of any “funny” smells from our apartment until weeks later when he talked to Rachel on the phone about replacing the sink and vanity (which is a whole other story). Of course, in typical Mark style, he tells Rachel that our apartment smelled like cat box when he gave Stephanie the tour, and that we would have to pay a new deposit for the new apartment.

Rachel was already having a stressful day, which included her coming home from work early from being sick, and the last think she needed was Mr. Hyde getting her more stressed about the cats. During the work being done yesterday, I had to deal with Mark twice, luckily he was in a Dr. Jekyll mood. Not only did he show me the new paint job in the apartment, he also told me that the cat deposit would be waived.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Mark hates Rachel. To him, being able to tell her “No” about something evokes the same feelings as a five year old boy on Christmas who just opened his dream gift. On the other hand, if I ask him the same question (or even question his judgment) he jumps for joy for me.

Which brings me to Golden Rule #5:
Golden Rule 5: Unless I’m physically unable to speak, Rachel is not allowed to have any communication with our landlord. This also includes allowing her phone to go straight to voicemail when he calls.