I'd like to tell you the story of a dark and hostile place, where grimy, week old, food encrusted dishes wallow in odorous pools of dishwater, mischievous bubbling rust spills over the sad eyes of the stove, the oven yawns and creaks like a tired old man, and the devilish little knobs on the cabinets greasily slither away from your hands as you try to open them. Not to mention holes in couches lead to wondrous unidentifiable bits of matter, shower tiles change color like mood rings, and entire bathrooms disappear for weeks, POUF! into another dimension. But the most terrifying of all, an other worldly presence... manbearpig! (yes stolen from the only episode of South Park I've seen in 5 years) and its trail of prickly leftover body hair that infiltrates the carpet, walls, bathrooms, kitchen, even the dishwasher.
It's disgusting, it's appalling, it warrants a serious case of the heebie jeebies. Escaping this apartment, oops I mean fictional land, can only be accomplished by pole vaulting over a giant bulging, blubbering and bloated cable bill filled with hoity toity French channels and 48 mind numbing channels of C-SPAN shouting loudly out from the TV for hours on end, and scaling the towering pile of 2 week old trash while the ear splitting country music blasts from the main lair of the manbearpig! itself! oh no!
Lesson learned: don't sublease. don't live with "men" using that term lightly. don't live at The Blairs. Management companies are universally evil.
This was the nicest way possible to describe the events of the past month. Thank god it's over and we made it out with only a few cuts and bruises. Enjoy that lack of cable asshole, you're lucky we didn't do horrible things to your toothbrush, but I do hope you can't sleep at night wondering....
love and kisses.
*manbearpig is a South Park charachter. not my own creation, but it was the perfect choice combination of words. thank you Al Gore.