wow. where to begin? i guess i'll start off by explaining the title of this blog. i believe i've blogged many times in the past on the topic of how bad my roomates suck. all of their suckiness has cultivated and i moved out on their asses. i essentially grew tired of paying 1/3 of everything (including cable and internet) and having one room to use. there were two bathrooms, yet they insisted on using the one i use to wash their dogs. they slept in the living room after being asked numerous times not to. they would sleep until 2:00 in the afternoon, so i'd have to sneak around all day to avoid waking them up. i couldn't have people over because of their sleep. basically, they got two bathrooms and i had none. they had two bedrooms and i had no living room. they had a kitchen that i couldn't use because they would be disturbed.
let us not forget about the dog situation. there was barely enough room for the two dogs that lived there and they decide that it would be a wise decision to bring home another one. ultimately, my dog went insane from being locked in my room all day by them while i was at work, so i let my dad take care of her. dog lovers... riiiiight.
they were also made aware that if the problem were with sharing their things, (couch, tv, computer, etc.) i would gladly move my things in and let them put their shit in their bedroom. it was bigger anyway. i'd share my things and not complain about it. but.... low and behold, that wasn't it.
when i finally became fed up with the situation and decided to move my shit out, all of the bullshit came out in the wash. according to them, i had been charged 1/3 of the price of everything to rent out one room. the living room was never mine anyway and neither was the kitchen, bathroom, or anything else. wow. why would anyone knowingly pay a price equal to everyone else's to have just one room. why would i pay for internet and cable when i had neither services connected in the one room i was paying for?
i guess i became a little side-tracked, didn't i? let's get back to the explaination of the title of this entry. i decided that it would be a wise decision to move my shit out before telling them about it, just to protect my things. if they knew that i were planning on moving, they could have done anything (destroyed my shit, thrown it away, pissed on my couch, let their dogs shit on my tv, had sex on my sheets, whatever). soooo, candace and i came home one morning and there were some people whom i didn't know sleeping in the living room that i had thought that i was paying for. that was the last straw. candace and i moved every item of mine in that entire apartment in about 45 minutes without waking anyone up (quite the feat, if you ask me). basically, i recieved a phone call about two days later explaining that if i didn't pay rent on the first, his family would come here and kill me.
fast forward about a week. i'm not dead (i paid him the money like a punk-ass pussy bitch), i live with my dad, my life still kicks ass, the band started back up with practice, i've been reading, candace feels beautiful again, my new roomates are awesome (dad, squeel, peanut butter, putters), matt is still here and we're hanging out lots, and my lungs are filled with clean smoke-free air. ain't life grand?
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