I don’t like you bitch…your credit score is too low

I got a letter from my friends at Experian credit service ala Life Lock. Kiddies, here’s a piece of wisdom: make sure to change your address at your old company when you leave because hunting down the new tenants at your old building aint cute. Anywho, I was reading throught this disturbing letter that conjured up crackheads with Visas/Mastercards in my name. I also came to an important conclusion; if someone were to steal my identity a few years back, they would have gotten a surprise. I hate to fall into the realm of negrodom stereotypes but my credit was bad. I met up with the Joneses, aka my privileged college alumni, and thought I could hang tight by spending money I hadn’t earned. A few years later, I was drowning in debt and they were floating by on a gay cruise. The blessed identity thiefs would have been subject to abusive calls from debt collectors with breaking limbs on their mind and threatening letters that would have frightened the Unibomber. I felt like I was being chased by the mafia. I would have done anything to “make it right” and keep my fingers but all they wanted was my money and I couldn’t give them something I was pretending I didn’t have. Besides, happy hour wasn’t going to have itself. Now, I’ve grown up and paid my dues/debts. Still, if someone had stolen my identity in 2006 they would have been fucked. That crackdealer would have swiped that card through his hookerwife’s breast and lo and behold…declined.

It’s 30 degrees outside…feels like NYC’s Fake Spring

I watched the news last night so I really shouldn’t be complaining. It’s one of those fluke days. The cold wind was so strong it almost knocked me over into a street meat cart. But like Maya Angelou, ’still I rise’. It’s been a strange time at work. I’ve been salivating over my co-worker’s firm ass (I call him hot southern IT guy) and trying to answer every question Ms Bulgaria wants and needs to know.  My white coworker’s ghetto black booty aside, I have been working on the dreaded task of writing up my job. You know what!?! I did a lot of shite. Who knew writing up a click here and a spreadsheet there would be so time consuming. That panda is jonezing for another beatdown (see Rainbows, Unicorns and Sunshine). I’m going to try to stay focused. I’m gonna need that focus tomorrow as I go for my first of 7 driving lessons. Hopefully the cold wind will keep my eyes wide open and my pupils slightly dilated. I know how to drive but was too scared to get my license at the ripe age of 16 due to a psychotic and hypertensive driver’s ed instructor. Now my glory shall come and many more stories I’m sure from my russian driving instructor.  I bet I’ll get a swig of Stolichnaya if I pass.  Stay tuned folks.

Moving on out…to the Beachside

I’ve spent my entire Sunday morning sorting through 7 1/2 years worth of bills, credit card statements, student loan papers, receipts and birthday cards to name a few. It was exhausting. I did look like a quarantined patient. See, I have sinus/allergy issues and so I had to wear a surgeon’s mass that I had happened upon at our 99 cent store Bargain Hunters. I’m not ashamed to admit my sinus insanity: nasal irrigation, keeping enough Sudafed to sustain two meth labs for 6 months at hand, and frequent vaporization.  I did have a great time going down memory lane.  I even found my high school yearbook. I used to cute. Not sure what happened!?!  I also got a thank you card for the gift I gave from friends whose wedding I didn’t attend. I guess someone signed my name on their card. Cheerio!  Still, I’m glad I got all that crap out. I even faked kindness by donating clothes to Goodwill for that coveted donation receipt.  Yeah IRS!  I love philanthropy.

There should be a IQ test for people who use Craigslist

Now, I tried to be nice and give people the benefit of the doubt in this whole selling furniture process-at least to their faces-but things have gotten ridiculous. I finally got someone interested in buying at least part of the futon. A girl emailed interested in picking up the futon at 5:30. She then texted that she would be here at 6ish. In my day 6 ish meant within 30 minutes, not almost 7ish. Then her and her impossibly beautiful but wet behind the ears boyfriend tried to pick up the futon. I volunteered to help them get it down to their car. What’s my problem? Hmmm…they didn’t have a car. They walked from the subway and expected to catch a cab. Unfortunately, location whores who never leave Manhattan, like these poor saps, don’t realize that you can only catch yellow cabs in Manhattan. Finding a yellow cab in Brooklyn is like looking for a giant purple fire breathing dragon in Brooklyn. And livery cabs…a silver unicorn. I was so angry I could have strangled them both. Then they proceed to call a well known car service that didn’t answer and, after called car services we had looked up on the web, they decided they didn’t want the mattress.  In what universe would you come to pick up furniture without transportation. I guess they were waiting for the silver unicorn. Believe you me, I would have booked the silver unicorn for my trip to Miami. No gas mileage mark up. I hate NYC.

How about a cup of get the f-ck outta my apartment

I received a solid offer on my futon earlier today. Unfortunately, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb showed up. For some reason, the were confused by my ad. I listed the futon and the price with photos. I specified that it was a wood futon (queen) and for some reason that did not connect with their brains. Maybe its Spring fever or perpetual stupidity: I don’t know which because I only just met them. Still, they sauntered in here, tried to lift the futon and decided they wouldn’t be able to get it out. I offered to help but they still didn’t want to take it.  Somehow, they just couldn’t grasp the fact that a solid wood futon would be a little heavier than a hollow metal one. I wasted an hour plus waiting for these knuckle heads to get here and back out of the deal because they both are dumbasses and have no upper body strength. I felt like the kid whose parent snatches the candy from their little hands and puts it back on the store shelf. Needless to say, I didn’t walk them out. I figured they could find the door but might get trapped in because they didn’t know how to use the handle or maybe it was too heavy to pull ajar. You’re trapped now bitches! I can’t wait for my next Craigslist adventure.

Victoria’s Secret Tranny Fierce Hot Mess

I’ve been getting Victoria Secret catalogs for the entire year that I have been here. I never wanted to know what Victoria’s secret was or what lacy underthings she was wearing. It’s the mystery of the ages. Did I sleep order red lace panties? How could have become a transvestite without even knowing it? Don’t get me wrong. I think transvestites are neat and trannies are fierce but I’m not in the market to become either. Though I do like the Victoria Secret angel wings. 

Under my Dumbrella, ella ella eh eh

It’s another rainy cold spring day in NYC. Returning from a delightful lunch with a friend, I was chastized by a short middle aged woman with a chip on her shoulder and some animal’s skin on her back. I was fighting the windy NYC gusts and spitting rain on 8th ave only to be spit on by a woman on a mission. I doubt she really had anywhere to go. She took the time to prepare a small derogatory monologue about umbrella etiquette and fan her beaver pelt in my face.  I forgive her.  She’s an angry dumass.  I’ll miss each and every one of the 100 umbrellas I’ve lost to the winds of NYC street…

 

I’ve been inducted

My head has been spinning since I took a Sudafed and I’m wondering if I’m feeling better because I’m high or actually have sinus pressure relief.  People think so poorly of those cooky teenagers making Sudafed meth but I think they should be heralded as resourceful lads and ladettes. They pulled themselves up by their cocaine-dusted bootstraps and have come up with an inventive way to get high. Shouldn’t they be applauded for their chemist aspirations? Should they be recognized for finding a cheap solution to getting high in these difficult times? We’ll it’s time for another Sudafed…all I need now is a rolled up dollar bill and a street corner to beg on…

Rainbows, Unicorns and Sunshine

I’ve come to accept my tendency, that when tired or distracted, to be completely ADD and not pay attention to anyone and anything. I did it today when the Bulgarian temp, now permanent, went into a diatribe about how good European education is and how crap our is.   As a result of my blahness, I went into a deep place of magic and imagination.  Leprechauns dressed like metrosexuals danced to Madonna on a gay rainbow. Raging unicorns kicked sassmouthed pandas dressed in Crocs for back talk and sunshine shined in from the purple, polluted sky.  Nope, I never do drugs. I just have a lot of time on my hands.  Still, you know that panda deserved it…and all’s right in my ADD world far far away from temp mcchatty.

Who hasn’t heard the screech of a girl trapped in a window?

It was an interesting evening. I made a lovely $200 from about $150 worth of used crap. Some nameless hipsters dropped by to pick through my bamboo boxes and end tables and such. They kept rambling off the names of their other 4 roommates and seemed to enchanted by everything in the room. It was funny to watch masculine presumably straight guys dressed like druggies making pointed critiques of my furniture like Bravo designers.  Each one of them egged the other on to buy and more stuff. They bought so much it took me 15 minutes to tally it up because they kept adding to the list. I gave them some freebies to seem philanthropic: my dying bamboo plants and a fake flower (don’t ask me why these boys wanted that–queers don’t judge, we just giggle). Still, I wish they had taken that horrible futon. I guess it was just too good for them. Still, I appreciate them handing over their parents’ hard earned money. I only wish they were cuter.  And richer…and possible naked…jeans were too loose fitting. Haven’t they heard of low rise? I should be ashamed of myself but that would require effort, self-reflection and time. Oh yeah, there was girl trying to climb through the window across the street for some dumbass reason and the window fell on her legs. The hipsters rushed to help but it was stealth neighborhood kid who jumped the fence and saved the girl from absolutely no real harm. She screamed like a banshee. All three of the guys looked traumatized; it was their first non Williamsburg ghetto incident. I felt bad for them until I looked at the sheen on their like-new truck. I would have rushed out to get a closer look at the mamed girl but my bullet proof vest is on backorder at Amazon. Can’t risk it. Tootles kiddies!