Wednesday, May 12, 2010

boobs aren't cheap

Today at work my co-worker, Abigail, and a client and I were discussing our lingerie. It started with shoes. Abigail was wear a cute pair of Asics Tiger sneakers and I have a pair too, but she paid $30 for her's and mine were $85. She got her's on sale, because she unlike myself, goes shopping to go shopping and only buys things on sale or clearance or at one of the Ross/Marshall's/TJ Maxx type of stores.

I have tried this type of shopping, but it doesn't work. My mother turned me off to it by taking me TJ Maxx far too often growing up. This isn't to say that I don't occasionally go to this type of store, I do, but find that they are only good for kitchen items and shoes and occasionally pre-screened DVDs.

Abigail went on to say that she had just bought a bra for fifteen dollars. I do not think I have ever paid less than thirty dollars for a bra, ever. I mean, I wore training bras for far too long (this is relative, people) because I had an aversion to "triangle bras." Why? I don't know, I suppose it was before I realized what support was and how important it is and that the uni-boob look is never good, though excusable while exercising.

Seriously, the last bras that I bought were all $50+ on sale! But then, I was also the only eighth grader with a C-cup. And it wasn't a "C-cup" it was an almost D-cup.

I have tried to find bras at these clearance stores; they carry decent brands, but they never fit me right or have my size. My mother, like Abigail, does not have this problem. She also would prefer to get a "good deal" and then complain about a top shrinking. Very rarely do I have this problem and most of what I have I wear for awhile. I have pretty much been the same size since I was fifteen and can still wear those clothes, though I have recently been getting rid of them because I never wear them. My taste has changed.

My mother grew up being poor. She literally lived next to the train tracks, I have seen the house, and it is only a couple of yards away from the tracks. She went to Rose's and always had a job. She is the hardest working person I know. And she is fairly frugal, but is willing to spend money on things that she deems "classy." She considers J. Jill to be classy, but still thinks that she's getting a good deal when she guys a shirt that shrinks after the first wash.

My mother's day post is coming soon, probably tomorrow. But I cannot not think of her whenever the subject of bras or boobs come up, as she has never had a problem with either and in turn teases me about my problems and frequently suggests breast reduction as a viable option, followed by "get those things out of my way." Thanks, Mom!

Monday, May 10, 2010

Eviction Pt. 2

Today, Anthea and I made our way down to our leasing office to ask what "non-remediable" offense we done. We waited for about half an hour before the leasing agent showed up to talk to us. And then, we weren't even invited back into the office, he just leaned across the receptionist's counter.

Me: Can you explain this to us?
Him: We want you out in thirty days.
Me: Yeah, got that part, but what did we do that went against the lease?
Him: You brought a dead rodent into the leasing office and told a couple not to rent with us. It's bad for business, and not matter how many times you say you're sorry, it's still non-remediable.
Me: Uh. Huh. Okay, but you didn't state that in the letter.
Him: Look, you can take us to court and this will turn into a long, drawn out process, or you can just move out.
Me: Will we be getting out deposits back?
Him: We will still sent someone over for a move-out inspection, so unless you trash the place, there shouldn't be a problem.
Me: That's all we wanted to know.

We don't really care that their reasoning for kicking us out isn't kosher, because I mean, we hate it here - especially during the renovations. If we cared to stay here we could probably take them to court, but we really just want our money back. And will wait until we have it back before we obnoxiously spread the word of how terrible they are.
If I had known getting our of my lease was this easy, I would have found a dead mouse and used it to this advantage months ago.

We will be filing formal complaints with both the Better Business Bureau and the Health Department. And if I find anymore mice in my apartment, I'm going to take them to the leasing office again. Also the leasing agent is such a prick, he was so snide. How can anyone maintain any level of dignity and work for such a corrupt company?

Friday, May 7, 2010

Eviction Pt. 1

This evening after work I came home to the Mormon magazines my dad has mailed to me and an envelope from my leasing company. Inside the envelope I was anticipating another memo regarding the renovations, but instead was a notice that read:

Dear Tenants,

This letter is to inform you that effective today, May 5, 2010, we are sending you a 30-Day Least Termination notice, per Section 21-D. You must vacate the apartment effective June 5, 2010.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact our office. Thank you.
Section 21-D reads:

Non-remediable Violations. If Tentants(s) commit material noncompliance which is not remediable, Landlord may serve on Tenant(s) a termination notice stating that the Lease Agreement will terminate in thirty (30) days for the reasons stated terein without allowing Tenants(s) an opportunity to remedy such breach. If a breach of Tenant(s)' obligations under the Virginia law, or the Lease agreement, involves or constitutes a criminal or willful act, which is not remdiable and which poses a threat to health or safety, Landlord may terminate the Lease Agreement immediately by giving of and appropriate written notice.
Please note that in the letter they did not mention what I was being evicted for. This entire week has been so surreal - like something from a crappy comedy about a single woman who keeps running into problems in the new city and is looking for a better life, but needs to learn to appreciate the life she has and takes down a company along the way to discovering herself. I mean, they have no reasonable explanation for my eviction. I have only paid my rent late once, and that was because I thought I had three business days, but it's actually three regular days and I paid the fee and everything was taken care of that day. As far as I know, no one has ever complained about me and until this week I haven't had excessive problems with my appliances and despite the roach infestation, I can't complain.

In the last year I have learned way too much about roaches. And I have found that a 3:1 ratio or boric acid to cocoa works really well for getting rid of the vermin. Also, there are a lot of species and at least five of those live in my building. I could work at one of those bug zoos - also, I have the appropriate shorts for such a job. They are khaki and I wear them all the time.

I have wanted out of my least pretty much since I moved in and now they are kinda, sorta, doing me a favor by "terminating my lease" only five days after I give them my 90 days notice. So to get this straight:

-My roommate and I gave them the required notice to discontinue our lease.

-I called and visited the leasing office repeatedly this week to resolve various issues that resulted from renovations, nothing that I did.

- Received a letter kicking me out without an explanation.

I spent a great deal of time tonight looking up reviews of the company and most of which were negative, and the positive ones were so obviously not real it was pathetic. I then moved to the Better Business Bureau and found that this particular company was graded an F and there were 56 complaints filed in the past 36 months.

Yeah, I'm going to be spending a good portion of Monday in the leasing office waiting to talk to either the manager or the owners of the company. And I will be moving out by June fifth, and I will be taking them to court. And I will win.

Renovations Pt. 3

I am losing my mind.

I am honestly going to commit some sort of crime that will be excused because of my insanity.

The renovations have done nothing but inconvenience my life.

So, since they've started, everything that could go wrong went wrong this week:

1. The AC broke
2. Dead mouse
3. Broken window

Mind you, there was nothing wrong with my apartment before, except for the occasional brown bug - but I can deal and have dealt for a year. I understand that my leasing company is out to make money, and part of that means getting tax deductions for "renovating" hundreds of apartments. This week though, this week has been a complete nightmare.

And then there's that whole starving student thing. I had enough food to hold me over until I get paid on Tuesday, but with the exception of the vodka and thinmints, everything else in the fridge and freezer was thrown away. For dinner last night I made guacamole and had my friend bring chips. And today my coworker bought me lunch, so I'll pay her back.

My parents have done renovations to their house while I was growing up. And never in my life were things this stressful. I have had strange men, most of whom have bad teeth (I have a thing about teeth, I have a difficult time trusting people with gaps) and I had no say in the times they work in my apartment. So, unless I've had class or been at work, I have been sitting on my couch because I'm paranoid that one of these dudes will raid my vinyl collection and I'll have to buy it back on Ebay. Or steal my laptop, but even that has been with me most of the time, just because of this reason. It's not with me today, and I'm worrying about it. Luckily my roommate is home, so it should be fine.

But I don't have any real food except for maybe some french-cut green beans and rice. I can't even make a grilled cheese sandwich. It is Friday though, I don't really need anything except vodka and thinmints anyway.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Running Through Walls

I know that I posted the 'Walls' video two posts ago, but I'm posting it again. This time with an explanation.

Among my all time favorite bands, and mind you my musical taste is always growing is the band Shout Out Louds. I love them. All of them. All of their albums. All of their songs.

I saw them for the first time this past Sunday, it was a long time coming. I reviewed the show for The Vinyl District (it will be up tomorrow) and I interviewed Adam Olenius and Bebban Stenborg for RVA Magazine (that's coming later as well). They are more charming than I had anticipated. And Adam is much taller than those videos give him credit for.

Anyway, 'Walls.' 'Walls' is one of those songs that I just cannot stop listening to.

Walls lyrics:

You know it, there's a a wall and you just run through it.
You had too much to drink, and all those telephone bills...but it's worth it.
Victoria, I just knew I'd end up in Victoria.
I took too many pills, and wrote my will just to get to you.

I need a pencil, a piece of paper, a lock and a cage.
It feels so much better now, getting rid of my rage.
I'm suspicious. I'm suspicious and can't keep my mind straight.
I see them when I sleep, nowadays, so sleep now and go.

It's so new now, being the one building all the roads.
Can't wait to crack all of your codes.
Learn how to ally, allies who know how to love.
And show you how it looks up there, it looks like a bug, so go.

Whatever they say, we're the ones building walls.
Whatever they say, we're the ones who never say no.
To get to know yourself, you gotta run away.
Never trust anyone, so run away, run, run, run.

- Adam Olenius

This is exactly where I am in my life right now. But don't misinterpret the last stanza, I don't think it's really about running away from things as much as it's about finding out what those things are and changing them.

I know I need to write more. I know that I need to read more, travel more, be more. I know that I have a lot of things about myself that are going to change on their own and other parts that I will have to be more proactive in changing.

I really need to become better at editing my own work. Luckily, I have a friend who has volunteered to do that for me. And if he has anything to say about my life (and he does), I should be done writing a best-seller sometime next year. So, between semesters, I will be writing, a lot. And he will be telling me that it's all complete shit and to change this and to "lift" that.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Renovations Pt. 2: I want my old Apartment back

This past Sunday I woke up to an apartment that was 88 degrees. Inside. It was hotter in my apartment than it was outside. And this was after they installed the new AC units. I wasn't home most of Sunday and my leasing company's office isn't open on Sunday, so I waited until Monday to call and complain. Apparently my apartment is not the only one with this issue, and apparently my leasing company doesn't care enough to check out who they hire, because the dude that installed mine and about three other units (not Ed) wasn't certified or something. AWESOME! So Anthea and I have had the front and back doors open for most of the time we've been home since this weekend.

I really wouldn't care that much about how hot it is if I could just hang out naked in my apartment, but I can't. There have been random dudes in and out of my apartment every day this week. And I am just not that open. So, I've been dealing with the heat, and the random dudes.

Monday we were told that we should go ahead and clean out all the cabinets because they were going to be replaced on Tuesday as well as all the appliances in the kitchen. Then we got told that we were also going to have everything replaced in our bathroom the same day. At first, I was excited about this because it meant that I was going to be rid of all these dudes sooner.

Silly, me.

While I was cleaning out the cabinet under my kitchen sink, I found a dead mouse. This is the second dead mouse I have found in my apartment this month and the third mouse overall this month. This is not cool. I mean, I already have to deal with roaches. I don't need mice.

Aside: I do think that mice are cute, and they have been my favorite animal since I was a toddler and got a Fischer-Price stuffed animal Christmas mouse every year.

So, I put the mouse in a container and saved it. Tuesday, all the construction workers came into my apartment and sawed and drilled and generally made a mess, and after class I took the mouse down to the leasing office.

Me: I would like to speak with (the owner's of the leasing company who happen to live two blocks from me).
Bitchy Receptionist (who used to get her hair done at my salon): They aren't here.
Me: Yes, they are. Their car is parked outside. They drive that Lincoln SUV.
BR: That's none of your business.
Me: Well, I know they're here. If they aren't available, fine, but don't lie to me.
BR: They are unavailable.
Me: Well, I would like a maintenance request/complaint form.
(She brings me one)
Me: Can you make sure that they get this? (I pass her the container)
BR: Sure, what is it...Oh, what a cute, poor little fellow...
Me: You must not live in one of their properties.
BR: That is also none of your business.
Me: You wouldn't think it was cute if it was the third one you'd found in your apartment in a month.

When I got home, I pulled up right as a leasing agent and an interested couple were parting ways. I waited until the leasing agent was out of hearing range and word vomited all over that couple. I told them everything negative that I have experienced in the last year of living here. I'm pretty sure I talked them out of leasing with my company, at least I hope so. I wish I had been so lucky as to have someone tell me not to rent with them last year.

When I got inside I saw that they were done with the bathroom and kitchen, but nothing was really different. I mean, yeah, there were new things, but it isn't impacting my life in a positive way. This whole thing has been a headache. A huge, fucking headache - a migraine. My bathroom now has new everything, but it's exactly the same as the old stuff - still a white toilet, but one with a plastic seat instead of the heavier kind; still a pedestal sink; still a claw-foot tub, but this one has been re-varnished. The kitchen has a new fridge but it's still a 3/4 sized one and there wasn't anything wrong with the old one. We have a new stove, but instead of a drawer on the bottom of it, we have a broiler - so there's storage space lost. And the cabinets are new, but aren't as deep as the old ones, and they didn't replace the small cabinet/counter that used to be on the other side of our fridge, so where we used to have a place to store baking sheets, set our mixer and toaster, and had a drawer for utensils - we don't. So now I have to figure out where to put this stuff. I haven't tried the dish washer yet, the old one didn't work as well as I would have liked it to, and I've gotten used to hand washing dishes, so I probably won't use the new dish washer.

Do you have a headache? Because I do. That wasn't a metaphor. I really do have a headache.

Today they started working on our porch. And our specific part of the porch has had a huge hole over it since December. I have complained about it repeatedly since then and it has slowly grown larger. It started as three small holes last summer and finally the whole thing just fell through Sunday. So now I have strange dudes hanging out tearing down asbestos and lead infested paint and plaster - so I can't open my porch door. And to my delight, after I got home from a meeting today and had settled into my couch and computer when one of the panes of my porch door breaks. One of the workmen had bumped into it with a 2x4. I go out and ask about them fixing it. One, who did not do the breaking tells me that he'll do it within the hour.

He comes in and is picking out pieces of glass and stripping paint off pieces of wood and constantly pulling his shirt down because his fly is down. I pretended not to notice. Anyway, so we're talking and he's fixing my door and we're discussing the type of people that live in my building now versus when I moved in. AND apparently there are not only strippers above me, but also across the hall and a prostitute in #11! Apparently the prostitute was very unhappy with strange men coming in and out of her she gave them half off.

They guy fixing my door said that he found this out from another worker who took her up on the deal! AGHHHHHHHHHHHH! Twenty-five dollars. TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS! That's all she charged! I'm already hated by everyone in my building because I'm that bitch who asks them to be quiet at two in the morning on weekdays, so I was really considering asking her if it was true. I mean, I'm really curious. I want to know how she got to the point in her life where she will fuck the Mexican day-laborers for $25. Seriously? If you're going to sell yourself, don't be so cheap. And fuck businessmen, and charge them hundreds of dollars, if not thousands. Now, I don't have any experience in the sex trade, but I wouldn't fuck someone so cheaply. I would hang out in yuppie bars, find a really drunk one, go home with him, take all his cash and credit cards and be on my way - you know, take total advantage of the John. Or hotel bars, or something. I mean, hasn't she ever seen Secret Diary of a Call Girl?

(If you're Mormon, you probably shouldn't watch this, it's cause to speak with your bishop and go through the steps of repentance.)

Twenty. Five. Dollars. You charge more than $25 for that.

I don't care if it's not true, it's still the most pathetic thing I've ever heard.

I mean, damn, I thought people paid more than that for head.

August cannot come fast enough.

Monday, May 3, 2010

The Undeserving

I drive around in the car that my parents bought me with the insurance money they were given after I got into an accident in the car that they had previously given me. While I drive, I put the windows down and turn the music up as loud as it will go. The music comes from a black ipod that was bought for me by a friend for my birthday after I stupidly left my old one, that I saved up for an entire summer to buy, in my car - that was when I found out that the locks didn't work all the time.

Sometimes when I'm driving around in the bubble that I've created, I come to stop lights and intersections. At these places are men and women two, three times my age with signs. Written on those signs are questions, thoughts, sometimes the single word "help."

I'm not a religious person, and I wasn't even raised Catholic, but I've adopted that cross thing that they do. And while I'm avoiding eye contact, I look up to the God that may or may not exist, but I believe in, and I do that cross thing and think to myself how good I've got it.

Those men and women have lived longer than I, and they've probably worked harder and experienced things that I may never experience, both good and bad. When the light turns green I think of the granola bar that I keep in my glove compartment and how I should have given it to them, but it's too late. Then I show up late to wherever I'm going, somewhere that requires me to have money, gas money, ticket money, food money - money. Disposable income. Money that I can spend freely on whatever I choose, because I earned it, because I'm fortunate enough in my twenty years to have both a job and parents who make up the difference.

Today I looked at studio apartment in a clean building that didn't have roaches or mice, and there was a diverse population in both age and ethnicity that lived in the building. I looked at this building because I like nice things, and while I don't consider my upbringing to be particularly luxurious, I wasn't poor and I've never known real hunger. I have gone to the dentist every six months my entire life, and when I get sick I don't have to worry about absurd premiums. And when the crazies start to creep in, I can pay someone to listen to my demons. And when something doesn't go my way, I can make a fuss until it does, because I wasn't told no very often.

And it's because I am not familiar with the word no that I am able to fumble my way around and maintain the level of comfort that I feel I deserve. But I don't, at all. And that is really scary.

I'm trying to earn it.