You'd have to do more than smile
I was supposed to go see a psychic today, but I reneged. For one thing, I didn't feel like parting with $50 for something that wouldn't even get me drunk, and for another, I was at the bar and didn't feel like leaving. It was, after all, like two in the afternoon on Saturday.
My real entertainment came when I left the Inn Place. I was completely fucking drunk, and I came home to take a nap. No such luck. When I had left for work this morning, the locking mechanism in my deadbolt came completely out. I put the thing back in, since I didn't have time to worry about it then. As my drunk self came back trying to get into my apt., I was completely unable to get inside. I left like two slurring, drunken voicemails on my landlord's answering machine, but I still had to accept that I wouldn't be able to get into my apartment until Monday at the soonest.
I went back to the IP and told Mathew that I needed his keys. I went to his apartment and passed out on the couch until like 8:15 or so. Shockingly, when I awoke, I found that Steven had left me a voicemail about when we would hang out today, but I guess the phone call was a one time thing. I have tried calling him back twice since then, to no avail.
So after I un-passed out, I had half a mind to try to break down my door. I came back to my apartment and realized that it was not possible, without severely injuring myself or destroying the door. I had Gordon come down and play around with some screwdrivers, but it didn't work. Luckily, he happened to know which apt the landlord lives in; otherwise, I would be sleeping on Jeffrey's couch tonight. We went up to the door and saw the landlord's husband sitting at the table eating. Gordon told him the situation, and he said, "Well, I'm finishing my dinner." He obstinately sat down and refused to do anything. Eventually, the landlordess and her stubborn husband (who happens to install locks) came over with us and took care of the situation.
The REAL comedy today was at work, when David Selliman came in. He is probably mid to late 40's and makes absolutely no attempt to disguise his interest in me. The fool has a 13 or so year old son who has just as much sugar in him as his daddy, and he has a fucking man at home on top of it. Still, it's fun to kind of go along with strictly for comedic value. Today, Beatrice had to fill in his account number, and I said something like "You can just put my account number on that slip." He then said "You'd have to do more than smile for that."
I seriously couldn't stop laughing for like an hour. Shame on that grown fucking man.
My real entertainment came when I left the Inn Place. I was completely fucking drunk, and I came home to take a nap. No such luck. When I had left for work this morning, the locking mechanism in my deadbolt came completely out. I put the thing back in, since I didn't have time to worry about it then. As my drunk self came back trying to get into my apt., I was completely unable to get inside. I left like two slurring, drunken voicemails on my landlord's answering machine, but I still had to accept that I wouldn't be able to get into my apartment until Monday at the soonest.
I went back to the IP and told Mathew that I needed his keys. I went to his apartment and passed out on the couch until like 8:15 or so. Shockingly, when I awoke, I found that Steven had left me a voicemail about when we would hang out today, but I guess the phone call was a one time thing. I have tried calling him back twice since then, to no avail.
So after I un-passed out, I had half a mind to try to break down my door. I came back to my apartment and realized that it was not possible, without severely injuring myself or destroying the door. I had Gordon come down and play around with some screwdrivers, but it didn't work. Luckily, he happened to know which apt the landlord lives in; otherwise, I would be sleeping on Jeffrey's couch tonight. We went up to the door and saw the landlord's husband sitting at the table eating. Gordon told him the situation, and he said, "Well, I'm finishing my dinner." He obstinately sat down and refused to do anything. Eventually, the landlordess and her stubborn husband (who happens to install locks) came over with us and took care of the situation.
The REAL comedy today was at work, when David Selliman came in. He is probably mid to late 40's and makes absolutely no attempt to disguise his interest in me. The fool has a 13 or so year old son who has just as much sugar in him as his daddy, and he has a fucking man at home on top of it. Still, it's fun to kind of go along with strictly for comedic value. Today, Beatrice had to fill in his account number, and I said something like "You can just put my account number on that slip." He then said "You'd have to do more than smile for that."
I seriously couldn't stop laughing for like an hour. Shame on that grown fucking man.