bekindtostrangers: (Bones: But Here's the Kickster)
 I switched my site navigation from "Vertigo" to "Horizon," so we'll see how long it takes me to get confused.

I spent a good part of yesterday doing nothing reading magazines and working on my style board. Some might call it an inspiration board. It's basically an oversized (we're talking seriously huge, I can't even hang it because I don't have a stud to nail it into) corkboard. I go through all my magazines that I am obsessed with love and cut out styles/fashions/things I like and pin to the board. It gives me inspiration for how I dress, makeup I do, how I decorate my house for a month or two months or however long I am inspired. If I start to gather a lot of things from magazines, I eventually switch things out. I put what's on the board in my stylebook - a giant scrapbook dedicated just to the clippings - and put the new stuff on the board.

Kind of lame, and pointless, but it makes me happy. I like being able to go back through the years and see what's changed.

So that's what I did yesterday. Today and tomorrow are barbecue central. Two barbecues today, one tomorrow. One of the ones today is at my boyfriend's dad's house, my boyfriend and his dad who are Jewish. Which means no pork, of course, which leads me to ask, what's the point?

I'm waiting for him to change (he's slow, bum knee) and then we are off! Barbecues are the only good thing about summer, methinks.

bekindtostrangers: (Misc: Weight of the World)
You know, I've started this post half a dozen times. I just don't know what to say. I want to bitch and moan about my dad and how he keeps spending money I keep telling him we don't have and keeps putting his account into the red so I have to piece meal the shit out of my savings and have now spent around $300 on overdraft charges and there I got it off my chest.

Let's talk about happier things, shall we?

I work in Cubicleland. Gray cubicles (and floors and walls and ceiling) as far as the eye can see. We're rearranging/rebuilding some (most) of the cubes (except mine) on the floor to get ready for the sale that managers won't admit is going to happen probably this fall ( I mean, who paints a stairwell just because? Really?) and it's quite noisy and busy on the floor right now. I love how some of them are being rearranged - it's been needed for a long time - but, for example, I almost walked into one of the new cubes today. So, I'm awesome.

Change seems to be a recurring theme in my life right now. So, I think my bank account needs to change into having some money. See what I did there?

I splurged on a stack of trashy magazines today. God, I love magaznies. Bought Cosmo, Elle, InStyle and People. I always get Cosmo and a People, but I haven't read Elle or InStyle in eons, so I thought "hey why not." My best friend is abandoning me tomorrow and my boyfriend is abandoning me tomorrow, sooo I need something to do and this something shall be wear a beauty mask, eat unhealthy food and read trashy magazines. God, I'm so LA.

ETA: To show you the depths of my maturity, let me show you my eats today: breakfast broccoli (eesh I hate spelling that word) and carrots with spinach dip; dinner peanut butter cookie and iced tea; supper green pepper slices with a balsamic viniagrette, a third of a box of mac and cheese spirals and a handful of tortilla chips. RAWK. The theme today?: Lazy.
bekindtostrangers: (Default)
I am removing the FO-status from my LJ because I just don't care anymore. I will over the next short while open up whatever entries I deem worthy of being public. Some, of course, will remain private or custom or FO.
bekindtostrangers: (Default)
So, at one point during the summer...fuck if I remember when... I came home from work and, in carrying about my normal routine, went to the bathroom. Upon arrival in my little bathroom, I noticed there was my sink. It almost looked like dill. That's what the green looked like. You know what I mean. And it was laying in the browny/white sink in such a way that it was obvious the dill-like substance had been in the water, which had then drained slowly out and finally drained completely before I got home.

I thought it was weird, was a bit freaked out but figured pershaps my sink had backed up, given that there's about 200 other people that live in this building and didn't think anything else of it.

Until it happened again last week. Alright.

This time I tried rinsing it out immediately, and my sink wouldn't drain at all. So I got out the bottle of drano I always keep on hand, dumped it in, shut the door so the cats couldn't play and went about my business. When I went back a few hours later, the sink drained immediately. Yay, I thought, I'm awesome. I can be a house-owner. (All it takes is clearing a drain, right?)

This was like last Thursday or Friday. On Monday of this past week, the landlords went around to each apartment and gave us all a gift...which, apparently, is a 2-lb. box of Belgian chocolate covered cookies. Overkill, I think, but with the rent I pay, those cookies should've been plated in gold, I'm just sayin'.

Ooh, looky, there's my box. Yay, I win. I put the box on the counter and go about my business.

I get home from work on Tuesday, rushing in to change so I can run back out, do some last minute Christmas shopping in the crappy weather, since I was leaving the next day after work, and I round the corner from the front hall into the back slightly surprised.

If you stand at the top of the hall, you look right into the bathroom, right at the vanity. My habit when I come in is to turn on the back hall lights, because it lights up everything well enough that I don't have to turn individual lights on and off until I get settled. So, I can clearly see into the bathroom. Both cabinet doors are wide-open, everything from under the sink is in the hallway (somewhat haphazardly assembled, but such is to be expected from boys.) I go into the bathroom, there's a goopy brown sludge in the sink (that, thankfully, didn't smell) and a note on the vanity from my landlord saying that he was working on the sink today (last Tuesday) and he couldn't get it, but he called the plumber and he "might get to it tomorrow."

Okay, first.

Might? Might? You possibly fuck up my sink without guarantee that it'll be fixed before a long weekend? Really?

On top of that asinine asinineness, I have a whole laundry list of complaints.

1) They apparently had an overflow issue because they had taken the towel off the towel rack behind the door and used it to wipe up the water...and then dumped it, in a sopping heap, into the middle of the tub. Without even spreading it out. My rug was, at least, hanging over the tub.

2) They used up a large quantity of toilet paper, presumably before they resorted to the towel.

3) I didn't make a complaint to the landlord, nor did I file a work order. So unless they inspected apartments, there was no way for him to know that my sink had been stopped up for all of a day, one or two days before he showed up.

4) I was not given 24 hours notice. Yes, I had notice that they would be in my apartment to drop off my "gift," but once that gift had been dropped off - Monday - I considered that notice to be null and void. Any additional entry from that point on should have been proceeded by an additional 24 hours notice.

5) I'm pissed off by that bit for a couple reasons. I have two cats, one of whom longs to explore the World Beyond the Front Door, one of whom is neurotic and any time I've had scheduled work - like when my kitchen sink plugged, or when they did their "bi-annual" fire alarm, etc check, I always lock the cats in my bedroom and put a note on the door - the workers in this building are notorious for leaving doors open when they work and I can only imagine what Moe would do with that sort of freedom.

6) It also worries me that he left a note only because he was unable to fix the sink. There's potential I might never have known, had he been successful - which leaves my overworked, paranoid mind to think how many times have they been in here that I just haven't known? So now I feel compelled to leave booby traps (shoes placed just so behind the door, and so on) so I can tell if someone has been in here or not, that shouldn't be. I have a lot of expensive electronics, some of which is not easily replaceable and being a misplaced Chicagoan, I trust these people about as far as I can throw them.

I haven't called the office yet, because I don't quite know what to say. "How dare you fix my sink?" I'm uncomfortable that they came into my apartment without notice, when my lease specifically states that I be giving at least 24 hours notice, but I know the bitch in the office doesn't like me. Any time I've called her about anything (over various things that have come up) she's never returned my call. And when I've called back again, and she gets me on the phone, she's like...oh. right. 

Fuck you people. I pay much, much more than this apartment is worth because you think you're in a luxury area (hi, it's Cedar Rapids. Newsflash: you're not.) and I canNOT wait til late winter when I can start looking for apartments and get my ass out of this building. Toads.

ETA: A couple things I forgot to mention. One, someone had obviously used the toilet on Wednesday, at some point while fixing the sink, because the toilet seat was up and the only bipedal male who lives here wasn't home at all Wednesday. And also, both lights in the bathroom were burned out. You spent TWO DAYS in my apartment. You couldn't have replaced the fucking lights? Goddamn asshats.


bekindtostrangers: (Default)

December 2011

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