Velouria (velouria) wrote,

The Dead are Alive and They're Just Not That Into You.

Well we moved at work. Again. And now I'm navigating 3 different freeways with 3 million different douchebags and the sun in my face both ways. To make matters worse, I'm going from the ghetto (where I live) into the burbs (where I now work) and back. Who the hell does that? I live in the ghetto so that I can drive 3 miles within 5 minutes to get to my place of business.

I need to move anyway. I came home the other night and found my bedroom door closed. I never do that. Never ever, never never never. So I clutched my keychain mace and knocked on it. "Hello?" I called, to no response. I slowly cracked it open to find Von Fluffy munching on sunflower seeds and looking mildly terrified. If only she could speak of the horrors that she witnessed. I may contact a hamster whisperer.

I figure it's the dead, the undead, or the maintenance man digging through my underwear drawer. I actually gave him permission to enter a couple weeks ago so that he could fix my garbage disposal while I was at work. That night, I found a note beside a busted up pile of shot glass that read, "Shot glasses r not disposable. U will be charged 75 bucks if u do it again. Thnx."

It must have been that moment that he fell in love with me and would later return to enter my apartment and dick around in my bedroom.
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