That said, I am sick to death of people. Fuck 'em. For anyone who's been reading regularly, you know that I hate my possibly retarded and definitely incandescently inconsiderate upstairs neighbors - that's not news. Meanwhile, I've noticed a rising trend in the amount of douchcanoe-ery being perpetrated at my apartment complex's workout room. I finally reached a point where if I didn't say something, I'd shit bricks from my eyeballs. Before you ask, yes, this is exactly the e-mail I sent to our apartment manager. It's only funny if you actually send it.
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Hey, Cecil -
I'm not sure what your policy is with people using the weight room to not actually work out, but rather plop down on the machines and watch tv, but for me, it's an uncomfortable experience to try to exercise with guys (because yes, it's always a dude - or two) just hanging out. A quarter of the time I'm in there, some dude without a key stands at the door staring at me to let him in, rather than going to the office to ask to be let in. Which leads me to believe that I am either a door man and didn't know it, or they don't actually belong there.
My other issue is - and I know you'll be shocked to hear this - my upstairs neighbor's dog barking over my bedroom. It doesn't always sound like they are necessarily on the balcony (although they definitely spend time there because our patio is yet AGAIN filled with dog hair, dog food and various trash) but they are definitely just barking enough to murder sleep. I'm woken up early about five days a week, while they just let the dog bark and bark and bark. Now, I hate the play the "I have a disability card" but I have a disability, and if I don't get enough sleep, I can not be a functioning member of society - when you add to that the fact that our rent just went up by more than $100 a month, I can't afford my medication anymore. So, to paint you a picture, if I'm in pain AND sleep deprived, I turn into one of those moms who just lays around on the couch, throwing Goldfish crackers at her kids to feed them and sending them out to the patio to catch the water that the dogs spill every day. Think of the children!
Thanks in advance!
Nico
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6 comments:
Oh, won't somebody PLEASE think of the children!
Is he a CEE-cil, or a CESS-il? It affects my enjoyment of this finely crafted grievance.
Oh I love rants in the morning! I can't wait to read his response! Also, go you for even making it to the workout room!!
DoD - they never do!
Bunny - CEE-cil. He's not British, although he is very formal.
Bridget - I'm at the gym about five days a week. I'm basically just maintaining my bread and vodka habits.
As for his response, he did not respond to that e-mail, but rather to the second, not even a little joking around e-mail I sent complaining that not only had I been chased out of the workout room for a second day in a row, we'd also just discovered that it wasn't only spilled water on our patio, the god damned dog was pissing on it.
That was a Sunday and he wrote me back quickly, saying he would address it on Monday, as well as putting some sign up on the workout room door - which, in my opinion, will definitely keep the honest people honest.
Someone from maintenance was just out there, scrubbing the ever-loving shit out of the patio, for like, 30 minutes, easy. Bitches get shit done.
What he doesn't know is that the "children" to which you are referring are not your biological younguns, but are in fact, mutant critters-- half child, half dog-- created through genetic casseroles of dog fur, saliva, and Velveeta cheese that you create in your microwave. You are slowly building an army the likes of which will destroy any and all opposition and will also guard the door to the workout room whilst you are in it.
I told you that in confidence.
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