A long, semi-psychotic rant full of foul language and speeling errors. And grammar mistakes and run-on sentences and shit about how much I hate this cruel world and love my purty bike. You've been warned.
I'm feeling kind of depressed right now.
I guess it started when I came home and bumped into the landlord. I'm a renter, an apartment. First thing he says is that the owner was in my apartment today. Hello? I received a letter last week saying they wanted to enter my apartment on Monday for an appraisal or something, so I cleaned up and shit to make sure it was presentable and all. Then I let it get dirty cause I'm too fucking tired and lazy after a hard day's work to clean up, and its been like 31 hundred fucking degrees out every day this week, not good housefuckingkeeping weather. You're three days too fucking late, bitch.
But whatever.
Then he tells me that she doesn't want bikes being kept in our apartments anymore, and that we'll have to keep bikes in a bike rack from now on. Why? I don't make any marks on their hallway walls, I use their elevator like they fucking asked me to. They obviously have a problem with bikes. First they said I had to use the elevator instead of the stairs because the walls were being marked up. Well, it wasn't me and those marks do come off with a little water and fucking elbow grease, dickheads. I think they actually repainted the walls after that, too. Morons.
Now this shit with not letting us keep our bikes in our apartments. Fuck, I hate that idea. My bike is rather expensive and I'd rather not leave it out there to be vandalized by any asshole passing by. And if I want to work on my bike, I will be doing it in my apartment. Fuckers. And during the winter, when I come home and my bike is covered in snow, I can clean it off from inside my apartment. The landlord told me this new bikerack would be inside the building, but I don't see how that's possible, there is no room anywhere. And if it leaves a mess during winter when the snow melts off my bike, I sure as fuck ain't cleaning it up. And if this bikerack is located outside, as I suspect it will, then great, my bike will be subjected to the ravages of the elements as well as vandals.
Then he says they want to paint the walls because of the damage. Like I don't see any fucking damage on the hallway walls. And if he's talking about the entrenceway where I store my bike, well, fuck, can't they wait till I move out to do that? Like they weren't even the owners of this building when I moved in, and the last owners never did a walkthru when I moved in so they don't even know what the original condition of this apartment was back then. Whatever, fucking walls aren't even that bad, I just never bothered to go to town cleaning them, cause that's where I stored my fucking bike. Like its going to make any difference painting them now instead of later. I feel like abusing them if they do get painted. The walls that is.
I just like having my bike in my apartment OK. It gives me a nice, warm fuzzy feeling knowing my little friend is close by and safe. Don't look at me like that. Its not like I sleep with it or anything. Not on weekdays anyways. Well not too often.
I guess I should just get used to the idea, I'm probably over-reacting. Just don't like people invading my privacy and telling me what to do. Kinda gets under my skin. Wish I could just tell 'em all to fuck off. Wish I owned my own house, then I would ride my bike up and down the hallways, laughing hysterically, scraping the walls along the way. Naked. Till then, I guess I'll just have to bow down to the man, crawl like the dog that I am, take it up t... Nevermind. Where are my pills, dammit?
The END
Posted by Fungii at June 28, 2002 12:00 AM