I would like to tell you a story. It's about a girl who is in college, working, attempting to have a social life, has no love life because boys suck, and often gets home late.
This girl is currently transitioning between roommates and paid her utilites last week. Of these, her cable and internet were included. But her carrier, Comcast sent her a statement that stated that she was behind in her payments, except, this was the first she had heard from them in months, even after calling the customer service people asking about her bills. They told her it was fine before this statment was sent, but whatever, she has intergrity, she knew that the bill needed to be paid and so she paid it.
Then about a week after sending them a check she get another bill saying that she is late, but her check hasn't gone through yet. So she tries to check everything out online, but their Web site keeps haveing "errors" and tells her to "check back at a later time." Awesome.
Then she notices flashing outside her window. So, of course she felt the need to know what was going on. She waslked outside and saw two police cars sitting next to each other, not doing anything, just two chatting policemen. Nothing odd going on, no one being loud, no one drunkenly walking home, nothing. So she stood on the sidewalk and watched them until the police officer in the closer car noticed her and they drove off.
The. End.
I can deal with people being loud outside. I can deal with hearing everyone drive by, but flashing lights when I'm trying to go to bed, not so much.
And Comcast is being stupid.
And my I had to call my land lord company today to tell them about the leak in my bathroom FOR THE THIRD TIME! They "fixed" it for the third time also. And the trash situation behind my building is getting out of hand. I sweartodgod that if thing don't start getting better around here, I will totally stage an uprising in my complex and sue those motherfuckers. Sure, it may be late, and I may be tired, but I am so over dealing with Richmond's bullshit. I get that companies that lease to college students take advantage of us, and I know it's my fault for not doing more research before I moved in, but that doesn't mean everyone has to deal with it. Mainly anyone who may rent with my company in the future. They already think I'm a nuisance for reporting everyfuckinglittlething, but I shouldn't have to, because it shouldn't be a problem. Kind of like how with my roommate I was always asking her to do stuff around the apartment, but wasn't so much mad that she wasn't doing it as much as I was mad she had to be asked to do it - like that, except with a rental company that makes bank off of poor college students who can't afford to live somewhere better. I am so serious about this. And I know that I'm taking on a ton of stuff this year, but this ahs to be done. Richmond needs a swift kick in the ass and who better to give it to them than myself?
Showing posts with label talking in the third person. Show all posts
Showing posts with label talking in the third person. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Up Against the Wall
I am in desperate need of a new journal, but I haven't found the right one yet and I'm poor and so I will write something not quite as personal here.
This week, most notably the past two days, has been a complete and utter mess. So what's a girl to do?
She calls the boy of her affection 2348394827 times, texts him just as much and listens as his friends ask her where he is. Only, she doesn't know, well she has an idea, but not one that she likes, and so she sulks - attempting to go unnoticed, but that is impossible. So she calls some more and no one picks up. Then said boy's friend asks for a ride. She obliges. She drops him off. She can't go home because she's not supposed to be here, but because her plans fell through she's desperate for a couch to crash on. On her way to said couch some idiot hits her in Adam's Morgan, but she can't help thinking that if she had been with said boy she wouldn't have been there or even have dropped off his friend, because she would have been with him. And then when she didn't go knock on his door she ended up at 18 and T in an SUV's way. She's not blaming said boy at all, she's simply thinking of all the ways, reasons, why that night went wrong. And she comes up with this - his complete incapability for using a telephone properly, the fact that he was drunk...and she knows she's over analyzing everything, each detail to the umpteenth degree, but at this point she's leaning against her car in a frequented intersection flipping the bird to each prick that drives by yelling out their window - And so she calls Couch to come pick her because that motherfucking idiot of a Georgia Peach didn't have sense to learn how to drive properly in the District and so her car is not drivable. So the tow-truck comes, she writes down all sorts of information, and thankfully has all the contact information of the wonderful witness - who saw the whole thing, but wasn't being obnoxious about it like that other dude who kept bugging the cops to let him write down what he saw. The car is towed away and she is all shaky and quiet, and completely calm when most people's reaction would be to flip out. She didn't. She didn't even tell that Georgia Peach how stupid she is, because by God, that Peach is a fucking twat. So Girl texts Affection and is further upset, and gives up, but knows that if he weren't passed out in bed (two blocks away) he would hold her and let her get mascara all over his Thomas Cook shirt, that he most undoubtedly would be wearing. So Couch takes her home - their home anyway - and she attempts to fall asleep. unfortunately prior to the smooshsmash she had begun to get a knot in her stomach, the kind that develops as a result of combining hunger, stress, and the ever-present ability to appear forlorn. This doesn't come completely on purpose, but it's not an accident either. She's going out of her way to rethink, and hope, and pray, that this most surreal of evenings was just a nightmare that she'll wake up from in the morning, and he will make her toast, and hand her a glass of cranberry juice, and everything else he does that for some reason despite his idiocracy make sher smile. But that doesn't happen. She shits and crys, on and off for the next five hours. How is it that most people, when they get sick to their stomach, they expel their anxiety through their mouth and she through her ass? And eventually her eyes hurt to much to keep them open, but not enough to close, and she calls that insurance agent and tells the Nice Lady what a horrible evening she had. And that Nice Lady, notes the quivering of her voice and takes a pause and asks if she's okay. And of course they both know she isn't but she says yeah, I'm fine anyway. Couch is still asleep and Affection is not going to respond to her text because he has no idea where his phone is. Eventually Couch wakes up and they get breakfast, a slow, tasteless one served by newly immigrated Ethiopians. And then they drive around in search of the lot with her car in it hoping to have it towed to a garage, but that doesn't happen and won't until Monday. So they go back to Couch's house and she gets her stuff and is dropped off at the Metro, and her parents will come to pick her up in Springfield. But she doesn't go straight there, she gets off at Dupont and walks the four or five blocks uphill to Affection's building. The lady at the desk is unable to reach him to let her up, but lets her anyway because she recognizes her. And when she reaches his door, there's a long pause between the elevator doors closing and her knuckles beating the old door. He answers, uses the bathroom and then joins her on his couch. They don't touch. Or sit next to each other. The silence infiltrates the tired morning walls, until finally they speak. Very little is to be said. He knows exactly what he did, there is no need for her to explain what an arse he is, he knows, and he knows well. And she still wants to be the girl on his arm, if only one uninterrupted, one unshared night a week. They agree that she is not being unreasonable, but she can't stay, she has to get back to the train. And he offers to drive her instead. Do you want to? Yes. And so he does. And little is said, and they attempt to be cheery, it works, slightly. They are both still walking on wobbly legs, but with time will stand up and this will all be behind them. This is one of those "bigger" things that he had told her would come up. He knows it's much bigger than he had anticipated. And he's thinking of how stupid he is, and what if she hadn't been able to reach anyone? What if it had been more serious? They keep these thoughts to themselves. Do you love me? Yes. Really? Yes. And he drops her off. Now give me a kiss. (she turns her cheek) You know, I love you, you make me mad, but I love you. And with that she shuts the door and walks down the stairwell to where her parents are waiting. They don't know any of this, just that Couch doesn't live with girls and that people should be in bed early in the morning. And when she gets home, still shaken and not quite awake to reality, she changes out of the previous night's clothes and goes for a ride to clear her head, and she listens to this song on repeat. Somehow it suits perfectly, maybe a bit uncannily so.
This week, most notably the past two days, has been a complete and utter mess. So what's a girl to do?
She calls the boy of her affection 2348394827 times, texts him just as much and listens as his friends ask her where he is. Only, she doesn't know, well she has an idea, but not one that she likes, and so she sulks - attempting to go unnoticed, but that is impossible. So she calls some more and no one picks up. Then said boy's friend asks for a ride. She obliges. She drops him off. She can't go home because she's not supposed to be here, but because her plans fell through she's desperate for a couch to crash on. On her way to said couch some idiot hits her in Adam's Morgan, but she can't help thinking that if she had been with said boy she wouldn't have been there or even have dropped off his friend, because she would have been with him. And then when she didn't go knock on his door she ended up at 18 and T in an SUV's way. She's not blaming said boy at all, she's simply thinking of all the ways, reasons, why that night went wrong. And she comes up with this - his complete incapability for using a telephone properly, the fact that he was drunk...and she knows she's over analyzing everything, each detail to the umpteenth degree, but at this point she's leaning against her car in a frequented intersection flipping the bird to each prick that drives by yelling out their window - And so she calls Couch to come pick her because that motherfucking idiot of a Georgia Peach didn't have sense to learn how to drive properly in the District and so her car is not drivable. So the tow-truck comes, she writes down all sorts of information, and thankfully has all the contact information of the wonderful witness - who saw the whole thing, but wasn't being obnoxious about it like that other dude who kept bugging the cops to let him write down what he saw. The car is towed away and she is all shaky and quiet, and completely calm when most people's reaction would be to flip out. She didn't. She didn't even tell that Georgia Peach how stupid she is, because by God, that Peach is a fucking twat. So Girl texts Affection and is further upset, and gives up, but knows that if he weren't passed out in bed (two blocks away) he would hold her and let her get mascara all over his Thomas Cook shirt, that he most undoubtedly would be wearing. So Couch takes her home - their home anyway - and she attempts to fall asleep. unfortunately prior to the smooshsmash she had begun to get a knot in her stomach, the kind that develops as a result of combining hunger, stress, and the ever-present ability to appear forlorn. This doesn't come completely on purpose, but it's not an accident either. She's going out of her way to rethink, and hope, and pray, that this most surreal of evenings was just a nightmare that she'll wake up from in the morning, and he will make her toast, and hand her a glass of cranberry juice, and everything else he does that for some reason despite his idiocracy make sher smile. But that doesn't happen. She shits and crys, on and off for the next five hours. How is it that most people, when they get sick to their stomach, they expel their anxiety through their mouth and she through her ass? And eventually her eyes hurt to much to keep them open, but not enough to close, and she calls that insurance agent and tells the Nice Lady what a horrible evening she had. And that Nice Lady, notes the quivering of her voice and takes a pause and asks if she's okay. And of course they both know she isn't but she says yeah, I'm fine anyway. Couch is still asleep and Affection is not going to respond to her text because he has no idea where his phone is. Eventually Couch wakes up and they get breakfast, a slow, tasteless one served by newly immigrated Ethiopians. And then they drive around in search of the lot with her car in it hoping to have it towed to a garage, but that doesn't happen and won't until Monday. So they go back to Couch's house and she gets her stuff and is dropped off at the Metro, and her parents will come to pick her up in Springfield. But she doesn't go straight there, she gets off at Dupont and walks the four or five blocks uphill to Affection's building. The lady at the desk is unable to reach him to let her up, but lets her anyway because she recognizes her. And when she reaches his door, there's a long pause between the elevator doors closing and her knuckles beating the old door. He answers, uses the bathroom and then joins her on his couch. They don't touch. Or sit next to each other. The silence infiltrates the tired morning walls, until finally they speak. Very little is to be said. He knows exactly what he did, there is no need for her to explain what an arse he is, he knows, and he knows well. And she still wants to be the girl on his arm, if only one uninterrupted, one unshared night a week. They agree that she is not being unreasonable, but she can't stay, she has to get back to the train. And he offers to drive her instead. Do you want to? Yes. And so he does. And little is said, and they attempt to be cheery, it works, slightly. They are both still walking on wobbly legs, but with time will stand up and this will all be behind them. This is one of those "bigger" things that he had told her would come up. He knows it's much bigger than he had anticipated. And he's thinking of how stupid he is, and what if she hadn't been able to reach anyone? What if it had been more serious? They keep these thoughts to themselves. Do you love me? Yes. Really? Yes. And he drops her off. Now give me a kiss. (she turns her cheek) You know, I love you, you make me mad, but I love you. And with that she shuts the door and walks down the stairwell to where her parents are waiting. They don't know any of this, just that Couch doesn't live with girls and that people should be in bed early in the morning. And when she gets home, still shaken and not quite awake to reality, she changes out of the previous night's clothes and goes for a ride to clear her head, and she listens to this song on repeat. Somehow it suits perfectly, maybe a bit uncannily so.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Oh Shit!
For those of you that have already heard this story, sorry.
I guess it's been about a week since this happened - but I'll continue
Last week was SOL week, and unfortunately for me I had to be at school about an hour earlier than usual, and I didn't even have any SOL's DAMNIT! So, one day I had to be there at 7:30 AM. I walked in the side, lower level door just as the bell rang. I'd already gotten three tardies (two hour detention) and a fourth would mean a FOUR HOUR DETENTION! I couldn't let that happen, so what's a girl to do?
She ducks into the nearest bathroom and sits in the handicapped stall for twenty minutes perfecting her plan. She had obviously been stressed out, and she gets constipated when she's stressed out, and so she took a diuretic, but it didn't start working until she got to school (early - coughcough) and so she had been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes with diarrhea. Thankfully the nurse was understanding (tears of embarrassment helped) and called her administrator so no one else could hear. And she got an excused tardy that day. WHEW!
I know I'm ridiculous, but do you know anyone else who would have been clever enough to avoid that? DO YOU? I didn't think so.
I guess it's been about a week since this happened - but I'll continue
Last week was SOL week, and unfortunately for me I had to be at school about an hour earlier than usual, and I didn't even have any SOL's DAMNIT! So, one day I had to be there at 7:30 AM. I walked in the side, lower level door just as the bell rang. I'd already gotten three tardies (two hour detention) and a fourth would mean a FOUR HOUR DETENTION! I couldn't let that happen, so what's a girl to do?
She ducks into the nearest bathroom and sits in the handicapped stall for twenty minutes perfecting her plan. She had obviously been stressed out, and she gets constipated when she's stressed out, and so she took a diuretic, but it didn't start working until she got to school (early - coughcough) and so she had been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes with diarrhea. Thankfully the nurse was understanding (tears of embarrassment helped) and called her administrator so no one else could hear. And she got an excused tardy that day. WHEW!
I know I'm ridiculous, but do you know anyone else who would have been clever enough to avoid that? DO YOU? I didn't think so.
Monday, September 24, 2007
forty days
Amanda is going to be eighteen in forty days and there is nothing her parents can do about it. absolutely nothing.
this means that she will be crashing at your house when she doesn't have a car to get into DC. just a heads up for everyone who lives closer to the metro than she does.
this also means she will be seeing all of the following:
the thermals or maria taylor on her birthday (november third guys)
bright eyes
georgie james
ted leo and the pharmacists
and others that she can't think of right now, but there are more, a lot more.
this means that she will be crashing at your house when she doesn't have a car to get into DC. just a heads up for everyone who lives closer to the metro than she does.
this also means she will be seeing all of the following:
the thermals or maria taylor on her birthday (november third guys)
bright eyes
georgie james
ted leo and the pharmacists
and others that she can't think of right now, but there are more, a lot more.
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