Closing The Door On Apartment 718
March 19, 2009, 8:00 am
Filed under: Allow Me To Vent, Announcements, Apartment 718

718

For the last two years, I’ve called this shithole of an apartment complex my home. Since it was the first place I’ve ever lived without my parents, I put up with a lot of ridiculous things that I would’ve otherwise flipped my shit about. But now, after turning over 21 rent checks, I’ve decided to let it all out and finally vent. What follows is a list of things I won’t miss about this place…

The laundry room. If one more person opens that dryer before my clothes are done, I’ll shove a fucking tire iron down their throat. The rules of the laundry room are simple: you put your stuff in, you take it out when it’s done. There’s never a need for someone else to touch my shit. Ever.

My shower drain, which clogs for inexplicable reasons. I have no hair. What exactly is clogging the drain, even after I pour an entire bottle of cleaning shit down there?

My sink, which does the same. See above.

The dishwasher. If it’s not too much trouble, do you think maybe you could actually clean the dishes? I mean, it’s not that I don’t absolutely love two-day old peanut butter, but if I’m already cleaning most of it off to begin with, is it too much to ask that you do the rest?

The cats in the parking lot. I hate you. I wish nothing but road kill and Chinese food for your future. You do nothing but clutter the parking lot and walk on top of my new car. If I catch you on top of my car again, you’ll be sweet and sour chicken by morning.

The fucktard on the 8th floor who keeps feeding the cats. Stop. If you continue to feed them, I will cut your penis off and hang you with it. You need a hobby. Or a girlfriend. Or both. Whatever it takes to keep you from befriending 15 stray cats like you’re the creepy old lady in the corner house. Jesus, I hate you.

The fire alarm. You don’t go off enough. No, really. If I don’t see the fire department outside of my building at least twice a month, then I know something is wrong. Hey management, don’t be afraid to fix that, eh? And speaking of management…

Management. Three months to fix an elevator? I think I might be able to build one from fucking scratch in that time.

My neighbors above. Thanks for letting your water heater go to shit and leak into my apartment. That was fun.

My neighbors to the right. The next time your dog shits on my balcony, I’m rubbing it in his eyes and throwing him off the ledge.

My neighbors across the hall. You don’t speak english and I don’t speak spanish, so cursing you out would be a collosal waste of time. Just know that you’re nothing like the people who lived there before you, which sucks, because those guys were quiet. And also because they offered my roommate a job selling weed, so at least I knew they worked.

I wont miss this place. I won’t miss the people, the management, the constant problems or the giant fucking pitbulls.

I will miss the short distance to Aventura Mall and the Target across the street, though, so there’s that.

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1 Comment so far
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Hi
Just to let you know — you’d better find an apt soon- we’ve redecorated your room-no moving back.
Love ya anyway
Mom

Comment by Anonymous




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