Come live in a real honest-to-goodness shithole. We take great pride in our inability to keep good tenants happy. Do you pay your rent on time every month? We will reward you by increasing it to the maximum allowable limit every year like clockwork. Love hot water for your morning shower? Who doesn't? Well, you won't find those kind of luxuries here. The water temperature is tepid at best. And if your bathtub stops draining, you'll be billed for the repair, even though that's illegal. Don’t worry when the ceiling leaks on sunny days. That’s the pipes above the ceiling that are leaking. All repairs will be made by unlicensed handymen found in the Home Depot parking lot. We will attempt to clean your stained couch cushions in our own laundry facility, right on the premises. We won’t do a very good job, though. What do you care? You live in a shithole. Speaking of our laundry facility, please note that you will have a difficult time finding available washers & dryers. This is due to the fact that our on-site managers allow their various family members to do laundry when they make weekly visits. Even though you see air-conditioners in two other apartments, do not be fooled into thinking that you too may enjoy electrically cooled rooms. Should you decide to install one in your unit, you will find an eviction notice taped to your front door. We also like to snoop around your apartment once a month under the guise of smoke alarm checks. Enjoy the beautiful pool--but only during the week. Here's the schedule: Every Saturday at 10 AM the gardener uses his leaf blower to fill the pool with leaves & debris. It remains this way until the pool cleaner comes by on Monday. Perfect for kids that don’t yet have health problems.
The neighborhood gang activity keeps things lively as well. The dealers are all within walking distance. Convenient for drug users who are fed up with high gas prices. Enjoy real culture with vibrant artists ‘tagging’ their area. See that broken glass on the curb? That’s where a local artist liberated the contents of a car the night before. It’s OK, the owner needed a new stereo with iPod hook-ups anyway. Win-win.
We can’t imagine why this apartment has been vacant for over six months.
Large 2 bedroom 1 bath, newly painted, vertical blinds, ceiling fan, new appliances, pool, gated parking, new roof, laundry facilities, no pets, one year lease.
Yesterday, I got a small padded envelope in the mail, returned to my address in Anchorage, Alaska because it needed a customs declaration attached.
Trouble is, I never sent this particular parcel.
My girlfriend looked it over, and we realized that it had the right address, but there was no such apartment number.
We looked up the name at the top, but there is no R. Kent in the phone book, nor any people with the same last name with a similar street number. A quick search on Alaska Posts website reveals the postal code to be valid on a nearby street.
My girlfriend opened it, and you can imagine our reaction to its contents. We debated if it was a friend playing a joke on us, or if it was intended to be found and cause trouble. However, Alaskan Customs never found out about the contents, so the point is rendered moot.
I will keep the contents for now, and remail the envelope with a photo of its former contents with a short note saying if he gets in touch with the person how mailed it orginally, he can drop by and retrieve it.
He better hurry though, as I only intend to hang onto it for so long.
I particularly like the happy pink stickers on the package it was sent in.
Dear, guy masturbating in the bathroom stall at my work...
DATE: 18 Feb 2008, 9:54 pm / MOOD: Other
Ok, I get it. You had to rub one out. I know the feeling. Maybe it was thinking about that totally hot little minx in purchasing that got you going. Or you got some steamy email from your wife. Whatever it was, you just needed a little release. We've all been there my friend.
But if I may be so bold as to offer a few tips?
1. Location Location Location - Maybe it was the bathroom closest to your desk. Maybe it has bigger stalls for more elbow room. But whatever the reason, the bathroom just off the factory floor is not your best choice. It is huge for a reason. There are about 80-90 workers on that factory floor at all times, plus about 30-40 office workers, and there's almost always at least one person who needs to take a squirt.
2. Silence is Golden - While we all might empathize with your situation, NO ONE WANTS YOU HEAR YOU SLAP YOUR SALAMI!! And we certainly don't want to hear the gentle grunts you were letting out. It was like being forced to listen to the audio of a bad gay porn soundtrack, minus the cheesy Casio keyboard jazz/funk fusion music. Keep it down, will ya?
3. Ms Manners says... - Ok, so you had a poor choice in bathrooms and you are just naturally loud. Even elemental problems such as these can be overcome by following rule #3. When someone comes into the bathroom....STOP!!! Seriously, I'd think that would be the easiest rule to follow. Did you not hear me open the door? Did you not hear me pull the ass gasket from the holder, tear off those 3 annoying pieces that hold the center in place, and sit down? Good god man, another man is taking a not 8 feet away from you. Shouldn't that take the bloom off the rose, so to speak?
4. Good fences make good neighbors - This is the most important rule of all. If you have been caught rubbing one out in the men's room, do not, under any circumstances, come out of your stall until all affected parties have left the bathroom. I'm never going to be able to get the picture out of my head of you going over to the sink right next to the one I was at, and looking at me in your mirror with a big contented smile while you're washing your hands.
They don't make a body soap strong enough for the ick I felt after that. No amount of showering tonight will do it I'm afraid.
Okay, so saunas are naked places. I’m fine with that. And some guys like looking at other guys. Fine with that too. I realize that gay men have it a little rough in our society, and I’m willing to cut some slack for the odd locker-room check out or sidelong glance in the shower. Lord knows I’d have difficulties keeping my thoughts holy and towel un-tented if I had to shower or sit in a sauna full of mostly-nude women. But you, fat sauna gawker, you’re different. You push the envelope. A real renegade, you are.
So here are some tips, in case you make a habit of this sort of thing.
I might not have even known, Fat Sauna Gawker, had you just used a little tact. Pretended to read a newspaper, perhaps, or done some 'neck stretches', etc. Surely it’s not that hard to sneak a peak here and there without getting caught. But you were always a rule breaker, weren’t you Fat Sauna Gawker? Yep, your strategy was to just, flat, out, STARE.
And hell, sauna gawker, you probably could have even gotten away with the unabashed staring had it not been accompanied by your HEAVY-ASS MOUTH BREATHING. But you wanted to get caught, didn’t you fat sauna gawker? You stared and you mouth-breathed to your double bypassed little heart’s content. And it worked. And I looked.
But even when I noticed, Fat Sauna Gawker, even then I could have let it go. But that wasn’t the end of it. There was no apologetic or even uncomfortable look in your eye. Animalistic lust and debauchery, that’s all I saw.
And after that, Fat Sauna Gawker, with all of your unholy intentions known, with your creepy gaze and pursed lips, and with your pudgy little hand making its way under your towel… Even after all of it I would have shrugged it off.
I turned to stare at the wall, sauna gawker, since I’m not one for awkward silences or confrontation. I figured it might give you a hint.
But the shadow-puppets, Fat Sauna Gawker, those were unforgivable. Vile creature, how did you even do that? Just thinking about it makes me shudder.
And I left, Fat Sauna Gawker. I left, and I felt dirty. And the sauna is no longer that warm, happy and relaxing place in my mind. And you’re to thank for it.
So cheers to you Fat Sauna Gawker. You creepy fuck.
