All posts tagged “apartment

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They say that roaches are such resilient creatures, they are one of the few species thought to be able to survive a global nuclear fallout. My theory is: perhaps they are not as resilient as we think, and that humans are just too stupid to figure out how to permanently exterminate them. I present to you, as evidence, the following conversation with the leasing manager of my apartment complex.

The set-up: I was having issues with roaches in my apartment. Three times, I requested to have my apartment bombed, and three times, they did not bomb.

Me: John, they didn’t bomb again. You assured me they would bomb, and they didn’t bomb.

John: They didn’t do it? Lemme look here… hmmmmmm… where is that book? Here it is! No… no… they did do it. It says right here, they inspected and sprayed.

Me: John, I’m going to have to stop you right there. You and I both know that “inspect and spray” is not the same thing as bombing. I asked for the bomb, you wrote down bomb, and you posted a notice on my door that said bomb. Please don’t try to pretend that they bombed, when you know they didn’t bomb. Just own up to it. Say you dropped the ball, and fix the problem.

John: Well I wasn’t here yesterday. It was my day off.

Me: I know you weren’t here, and I don’t expect you to miss your day off, but it’s not unreasonable to expect you to delegate the task to someone else. Especially when you told me you would personally make sure it got done after the first two times they didn’t do it.

John: At this point, I think you need to talk to Jason, the Property Manager.

Me: Why do i need to do that?

John: Because I’ve done everything I could do on my end.

Me: John, you just told me you weren’t here yesterday. So how did you do everything on your end?

John: I think you should talk to Jason. You would have more of a chance at getting what you want.

Me: But I just told you what I want. I want them to bomb. What would prevent you from conveying my request to Jason?

John: I don’t understand the problem. You live right next to the office. What’s the big deal? Just come in and talk to Jason. He’s a very nice guy.

Me: Well, John, you WORK in the office with Jason. So technically, if proximity is the issue, then you’re closer. In fact, you LIVE above the office, so again, YOU’RE closer. What is so difficult about telling Jason that I want to have my apartment bombed?

John: Look, Eric, Jason is a nice guy. Just come in here tomorrow, and tell him that you asked to have your apartment bombed three times and…


John: I think the problem is the exterminator didn’t notice sufficient enough activity to bomb. It says in his notes that he only noticed a few dead roaches.

Me: They were dead BECAUSE I KILLED THEM!!! They were “ACTIVE” immediately prior to me “DEACTIVATING” them!!! And why must I have swarms of live roaches everywhere in order to get my apartment bombed? Please tell me why can’t I just get my apartment bombed?!?!

John: I think you should talk to Jason about that.

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Good morning, childrens! Today we’re going to learn about the letter “F”.


Ok I’m done. So here’s the update:

I called the landlord, Harold, on Tuesday and introduced myself.

“Hi I’m Eric Schneider, I live at your property in Scottsdale. Do you know who I am?”


“Have you ever heard my name before?”


“Well then we have a little problem.”

I told him the whole story about how the crazy ass bitch rented out both rooms of his condo, using a fake name, pretending to be the owner, and now she’s living on the couch, has no job, and she’s selling his furniture for extra cash.

Well good ole’ Harold almost had a heart attack. He really liked the part about the furniture.


“I’m sorry, Harold… it’s gone. Sold, paid for, picked up, and gone.”

I thought he was going to cry. Harold confirmed that Jools was supposed to be renting the place while his sister was away, but he hadn’t received a single penny of rent in over two months. The funny thing is Jools has been charging me $550 and Rob $450 per month, and guess what? Her rent to Harold is $800. She’s been pocketing all the money and using it to buy $50 meals every night and cocaine! I was actually relieved to find this out because there’s no way this story would be complete without a fucking drug addict. Did I forget to tell you she hasn’t paid the utilities either?

During my conversation with Harold, I told him, “Harold, I can only imagine what might be going through your head right now. However, I want you to know I am willing to do whatever I can to help you out. If you need me to make a statement to the police, or whatever, just let me know. In fact, if you want to have someone take over the lease on your condo; someone responsible, with a job, and references, I wouldn’t mind staying. Whatever you need.”

And what do I get for my efforts? What do I get for doing this fuck the favor of informing him of the scandalous shit going down here? What do I get for saving him from further financial loss and having to spend time and money finding a new tenant? A giant, straight on, full force kick to the fucking ball sack. Well, that and he also threatened to call the cops and change the locks, and informed me I’d be receiving anΒ  eviction order. That’s odd, my birthday isn’t for another 11 days, but one should never underestimate the generosity of your fellow man.

So I have to move out of here as soon as possible; preferably before that nut job, Jools gets back from Lake Havasu.

Before I moved in here, my father warned me to make sure these roommates were alright, and I told him “Yeah yeah… I know. They’re fine.” Needless to say, I didn’t take his advice. What fun would that have been?

Excuse me, can you pass me the cyanide?

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Kick to the Jools

As entertaining as this story may be, it is just further validation that I am starring in a painfully tragic, yet funny sitcom written and produced by God Herself! For those of you who are not in the know, there is only one God and her name is Jennifer Garner, and I forgive her for that whole Ben Affleck thing.

Sooooo I got a new job. Actually I got two new jobs. The full time job is working for a web development company which builds websites for attorneys. The other is a weekend gig as a chauffeur / activities coordinator for a luxury, independent living, retirement community. Both jobs are great by the way, and I discovered I really love old people. I drove a group to the Cat Show last Saturday, and called BINGO on Sunday. Don’t be jealous.

Anyhow both jobs are in North Scottsdale, and since I had been living in East Mesa, 20 miles away, I decided I should look for a place closer to work. I started checking Craigslist, and after only a day or two, I hit the jackpot. Here’s the ad:

Date: 2006-06-14, 2:22PM

Room for rent in two bedroom, two bathroom condo. Room comes fully furnished, with 1 queen sized brass bed, 1 set of dreeser drawers, a desk, and 1 nightstand. Room has local telephone service and cable. Room has walk-in closet with organizer shelves. Room also has his and her sinks, vanity mirror, and private bathroom. Room has own private patio with sliding doors and private outside storage closet with lock. Condo has washer and drier in unit. Rent includes all utilitys and renter will have full house privilages. Please contact Jools at 480-XXX-XXXX. Will except couples for a hundred dollars more. I am looking for someone A.S.A.P.

Fine, she cant spell, but the place was in a great neighborhood, literally across the street from my chauffeur job, and less than 5 miles away from my full-time job. So really it was practically a no-brainer.

So I called Jools and scheduled a visit to check out the place. When I got there, I noticed there was furniture everywhere. Well everywhere where there shouldn’t have been furniture. For example, there was bed in the breakfast nook, two dinette sets in the living room, and random end tables, shelves, and upholstered chairs scattered here and there.

Me: “Whats all this furniture doing here?”

Jools: “Well, I bought the place from the lady that was living here before, and she sold it to me with all the furniture in it because she didn’t want to move it. We just moved in and now we have extra furniture and we need to get rid of it. In fact, we have more furniture in storage which we’ll get out once we sell this stuff.”

Me: “Who is we?”

Jools: “My friend Rob.”

Me: “Well where does Rob sleep?”

Jools: “In the other room.”

Me: “Where do you sleep.”

Jools: “We share the room, but were just friends.”

So we continued the tour of the house and we came to the room I would be renting. On the plus side it was a very nice sized room, and was pretty much how the ad described it, except for the fact that it was disgustingly filthy. Dominating the entire room was this monstrous king size bed covered in sheets that looked like someone wiped their ass with them. Yes, I know the ad said queen size bed, but as you’ll soon find out, not everything was how it was first represented.

Jools then showed me the bathroom which was even dirtier than the room. Every inch of it seemed to be covered in mounds of hair, wadded up toilet paper, soap scum, and more filth.

Me: “Why is this room so dirty?”

Jools: “This is where the lady stayed, and she left the house exactly how she lived in it.”

Me: “Well if it’s ok with you, I’d like it cleaned up before I move in. Also, I don’t want any of this furniture.”

Jools: “Oh of course it’ll be clean. It’s just that we just moved in and I haven’t had a chance to get to this room yet. And I’ll get rid of the furniture. No problem.”

Me: “Great! Another thing, I notice you have a small TV in the living room. I have a big screen which I was thinking of selling, but maybe I should just bring it with me.”

Jools: “Don’t bother, I have a 50 inch in storage, and once we get rid of all the old furniture, I’ll move it in here. That small TV came with the house.”

Me: “Oh ok, then I’ll sell it before I move. One last thing, I noticed you have a full-size bed in the breakfast nook. If that’s an extra bed, maybe I’ll sell my current bed, put that one in my room, and you can sell the king.”

Jools: “OK sounds good to me.”

So, I told Jools I’d take the room, and she and I spent the next few minutes getting to know one another. Jools told me she was originally from New York, so, according to her, we were bound to get along great. She said she was in a band, she was a chef, and she also ran her own clothing business. “Have you ever heard of 4Hate0 Apparel? Like the area code? 480? Get it? Get it? 480? 4Hate0? Get it? That’s my business.” Got it. πŸ˜›

So, that was the short version of my first visit, but if you’re a fan of my writing, you know its also a set up for the total unraveling of all my expectations.

After I left Jools, I headed home and immediately put my couch, dinette set, TV, coffee tables, and bookshelves up for sale, and within 24 hours, everything was sold. I hadn’t planned on selling my bed right away, but the person who bought my shelves was looking for a bed too. I had to sleep on the floor a few days, which I don’t recommend doing.

The night before moving day, I decided to stop by the new place with a pizza in order to introduce myself to Rob, and to make a little nicey-nice with the new roommates. Rob seemed nice enough: younger guy, not too quick witted, but whatever. Before I left, I took one last peek at my room to make sure it was ready for move in. It wasn’t. It was still full of furniture and shit and dirt, but Jools assured me that she would get the room cleaned out before I got there.

The next day, I spent about 8 hours packing, loading the truck, and cleaning my old apartment. I showed up at the new place during the hottest part of the day, exhausted, sweaty, and smelly. I hoped since I brought over a pizza the night before, they would be eager to help me unload the truck, but I was wrong. Rob said, “I’d help, but I had a hard day at work, and I’m really beat.”

Jools, however offered to help. First, she went outside with no shoes on, picked up one pillow from out of the truck, and slowly padded back into the apartment. She put the pillow in my room and flopped back down on the couch. “PHEW!!! It’s fucking hot out there!” And that was it.

Oh yeah, guess what? The room was still filled with furniture, and covered in filth, but at that point, I had no choice but to move my stuff in. It took me a few hours to unload the truck and find a temporary spot for everything. When I was done, I returned the U-Haul and went back to my old apartment to pick up the kitty.

The very first thing I wanted to do once I got back to my new place was take a shower, but there was no way I was going to get in there without scrubbing the shit out of it first. I grabbed my cleaning supplies, and turned on the shower to start rinsing off some of the grime. I reached up to adjust the direction of the shower head, and CRACK!!! The whole fucking shower arm popped off, ripping a giant hole in the wall! Water sprayed out of the opening all over the bathroom and behind the drywall. As fast as I could, I turned off the water, and called out for Jools who came meandering in to see what I wanted.

Me: “Hey Jools! What the fuck?!?”

Jools: “Oh shit! Ill call the handyman tomorrow to fix it. Good news is, we don’t have to pay for it.”

Me: “Why don’t we have to pay for it?”

Jools: “Well the owner pays.”

Me: “You said you were the owner.”

Jools: “Well actually, my dad is financing it with the owner, and until its paid off, the owner pays for repairs.”

Me: “Oh.”

So, you’d think Jools would offer to let me use her shower instead. She didn’t. I found that very strange at the time, but it would all make sense soon enough. I ended up sleeping on the dirty sheets, on the dirty king sized bed, in my dirty clothes, and went to work dirty the next day.

I called Jools from work at 8am and asked her if she called the handyman. She said she did, and he told her he’d be over in a few minutes to fix it.

At 4:30 pm I came home from work, the shower was still broken, and no one was home. A few minutes later, Jools walked in the front door, spotted me, and said, “Oh, didn’t the guy come back yet?”

Me: “What guy?

Jools: “The handyman.”

Me: “Come back? From where?”

Jools: “He was here and I guess he needed to get his tools or something.”

Me: “No, no one came back. I thought you said he was coming at 8 am. What time did he leave to get his tools?”

Jools: “A while ago.”

Me: “Then why did you leave and lock the door if he was supposed to come back?”

Jools: “Uh… I didn’t know when he was coming back. But he should probably be back pretty soon.”

Jools sneaked off into the other room, but I could hear her making a call from her cell phone: Beep bop beep beep beep bop bop. “Hi is Bob there? Hi Bob, this is Jamie from 120, there’s a leak in the shower, can you come over to fix it?” PAUSE “Uh I don’t know I think it’s…” PAUSE “Um, I don’t know.” PAUSE “You know what, hold on, I’ll let you talk to Eric, and he can explain it to you.”

So Jools (or Jamie?) came back into my room and handed me her phone.

Jools/Jamie: “Here, it’s Bob.”

Me: “Who’s Bob?”

Jools/Jamie: “The handyman.”

Me: “What does he want?”

Jools/Jamie: “Explain to him what’s wrong with the shower.”

Me: “I thought he was here and saw it.”

Jools/Jamie: “Oh.. no he sent over one of his guys, and I guess they couldn’t explain to him what was wrong, so maybe you can.”

Me: “So the handymen sent over another handyman with no tools in order to report back to the first handyman what the situation was, but he was unable to describe a broken pipe?”

Ok, intelligent readers, you can see where all this was going. Lie after lie after lie after lie. Bob did come over, and I talked to him. It turns out that Jools never called him until I got home from work, and he didn’t have “another guy”. Go figure. He also wasn’t a handyman, but that’s not really pertinent to the story. I ended up paying $125 bucks out of my own pocket for a real plumber to come out and fix it.

I’ll spare you the rest of the play by play for everything that followed, and instead, summarize the rest of the lies Jools told me:

  • Jools is not her real name. Not even her nickname. Just made it up. Her real name is not even Jamie. πŸ˜›
  • She doesn’t own a business.
  • She doesn’t work as a chef.
  • She doesn’t work anywhere.
  • She used to follow a band around, but was never in one.
  • Her dad is not buying the house. It’s owned by a real estate investor named Harold in Seattle. Harold has no idea she’s renting out the rooms, but a nosy neighbor called him to let him know that Jools has two men living with her. Now Harold is pissed off.
  • She doesn’t share a room with Rob, nor does she share his bathroom. She sleeps on the bed in the breakfast nook and lives in the living room.
  • She used to live in my room, and it was her filth that I had to clean up when I got there. Now that I’m there, shes been using Rob’s bathroom without his permission and telling Rob she’s been using mine.
  • Rob had no idea she was getting another roommate until I walked in with the pizza the night before.
  • She doesn’t own any of the furniture in the apartment, and has no right to sell it. I found this out after I sold the dresser and the king size bed. Now I’m stuck with no bed and I’m sleeping on the floor again.
  • She told me she gets $3000 per month because she’s part of a Native American tribe. She told Rob that she is petitioning the Tribe to get her share which is more like $500. Rob and I both think she’s not even Native American.
  • It’s very possible, although not verified, that Jools is only subletting the apartment temporarily while the real tenant is away for a few months visiting her brother. Her brother just happens to be the owner, Harold in Seattle. This is only a theory, but we’ll see.

There’s a whole slew of additional lies, but they don’t tie into the story very well, so we’ll overlook them for now.

To top it all off, I came home from work today, and my women’s intuition told me to check the history logs on my computer. Sure as shit, she’s been snooping around on my computer while I’m at work.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t confronted her about anything yet, but Rob and I had a meeting of the minds and compared notes. Everything that she told him is different from what she told me and none of it is true. She’s supposed to be going away for 10 days, so were going to enjoy the peace while she’s gone, and when she gets back, we’ll kill her. Just kidding. πŸ˜›

Neither Rob nor I want to move out because it’s such a great friggin location! Were thinking there might be a way to contact the real owner, get Jools evicted, and then take over the lease.

What a fucking headache!