"Atheists are people who think that nothing made everything. This is scientifically impossible."
Yeah, that's we think.
I have forty minutes to write this before Tara gets here and we leave. So I'm eating an unturkey and Tofutti cheese sandwich on wheat and going as quickly as I can. Trevor is home as of today!
Wednesday was my meeting with the lady from Boston and the two cunts who are pushing for my eviction from Southgate Apartments. I slept in as late as I could and woke up a little before 1 to brush my teeth. My parents were ringing my phone as I was brushing and by the time I finished, I watched their car pulling out of my parking lot. So I jogged over and then had to head right back to my apartment to grab some papers. I went in there and waited for ten minutes with my mother. It wasn't until 1:30 that we were called in, after sitting in silence and overhearing their smug laughter being shared in the back. It was pretty clear that these three women were all friends to an extent. When we were called back there, my mother and I took seats and shook hands with the lady from Boston and some balding man who was there probably as some sort of witness for them.
The lady from Boston told me now was my chance to go over my story, so I did. I was pretty quickly cut off by some hyperbolic quote from the old black lady downstairs who is the primary, and pretty much only, person complaining about me, claiming I had screamed, "TROUBLEMAKER!" out my window at her the other day, as well as threatened her the one and only time we ever spoke to each other. Total insanity. For the first forty minutes of this hour-long meeting, I was met with a very disrespectful response from the lady from Boston. I remained calm and spoke slowly so as to watch my every word and be as articulate as possible. But every time I'd deny something I was being accused of, the lady would smirk insultingly and chuckle under her breath, like she was Tyra Banks talking to a teenage guest about sex and drugs. It was really amazing to me, because I thought after our phone call together that I'd be treated me with respect than I had previously experienced from Kathleen and Sue. I had to repeat several times that I do not own a stereo. I had to explain to her that I haven't turned my TV on in over three months. I had to explain to her that I wear headphones when online. I had to clear my cats of being guilty of noise-making, since this lady was so desperate to find me guilty, she suggested that maybe my cats were making the noise. Then she tried to say that it was maybe my weird sleep pattern, which no longer exists, and mentioned my walking. I told her that even if it was my cats' pitter-pattering, or me walking across my living room in the middle of the night, that those noises wouldn't be misinterpreted as a loud stereo or drum set. Kathleen sat in the corner and remained silent the entire meeting, just smiling confidently and making head gestures, like a stuck-up bitch. Sue actually got loud and sarcastic to my face right in front of the lady from Boston and the quiet man. They both looked at her like she was out of line. She denied ever telling me that I was scary to my neighbors. The lady from Boston at one point said to me, "David. If this were a courtroom and an elderly woman came in and then you did, who do you think the judge would believe?" I was shocked at that statement. And I asked her, "How do you decide whose word is truth and whose word isn't? How come because she's elderly, she's definitely telling the truth and because I'm younger, I'm definitely lying?" She never had a direct answer to that question, which I repeated several times.
She said there was one more neighbor who had complained about me making noise. And I asked her, "How many times is the number of neighbors complaining going to change? It's been four, five, and now it's two?" She said even Kathleen said she's heard my loud music and I said, "Yeah, but Miss... she's a liar and does not live here." I was berated for calling her a liar. I was apparently out of line because she's a professional and would not lie. She then went on to imply that I was lying and I cut her off and said, "How come I can't call them liars, but you can call me a liar?" And I asked her, "How come because these two quote-unquote 'professionals' work here, they're infallible and because I'm a tenant, I'm definitely lying?" Again, no real answer was returned. And I said to her outright, "I have no proof of what these two women said and did to me, and they have no proof of what they're saying I said and did to them. So it's either you don't believe either of us, or you take their side, which would be wrong and you know it. It's very obvious that I'm being profiled here and that you already have your mind made up." She claimed she didn't. And I said to her, "No, you do. You've already told me that I'm definitely lying. You really have your mind made up already. You're saying it's impossible that they're lying and I'm telling the truth. I mean, I know they're putting on a great act, since their jobs are on the line, but come on." The last twenty minutes, I noticed a shift in tone coming from the lady from Boston. She started speaking softer. I was told I need to get rid of my cats, which I won't even bother worrying about until absolutely necessary, and then she told me that she needs to review everything, talk to some attorneys, and would get back to me in a few days about whether or not I'm being evicted. By the time I left that office, I was covered in sweat from how angry and stressed out I was. I went back to my apartment and cooled down, then took a shower.
I went downtown and hung out with my brother for the evening. We went to Muddy Cup and hooked up my new laptop to set it up and go online. I felt like such a yuppie hipster, but whatever. Brianna and her younger cousin, who looks like Winnie Cooper, met up with us and joined us while we sat and ate pies and drank juice. Brianna and I made plans for the weekend, which includes her making me a yummy sandwich, and then her and her cousin got going. Yoda and I stayed there for a bit while I made fun of one of the cops there who was walking around, doing absolutely nothing.
Some tall scumbag in a leather jacket, probably in his thirties without a strand of facial hair, walked over to take a seat nearby with his fat, redneck girlfriend, and exclaimed to us, "Heyyy, terrorist brothers!" We looked up and said, "Huh?" and he said, "So, when's the next terrorist attack?!" Why did he say this to us? Because of our beards. You may not know this, but beards are common amongst terrorists and Middle Easterners... not just, ya know, males who grow facial hair in their early twenties or anything. I just cringed at his stupidity and said, "Oh, my god," and put my head back down to my laptop.
We got going and went to Stewarts to sit around and eat chips and salsa. Angie was there. So was Kayla and this beautiful girl named Emily who I hear is really into indie film. Of course, she has a douchebag boyfriend who wears a trenchcoat and sharpens his teeth. I sat and stared at her. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She doesn't wear an ounce of makeup and seriously has the most amazing face; like, everything is flawless: her eyes, lips, smile, cheeks, everything. Plus, she was busy worrying about getting fired for throwing change at a rude customer's face, which made her even more attractive. But oh, well. Angie asked Yoda outloud if I still wanted to fuck her and he told her, "Yeah. Actually, he wants to fuck the life out of you." I cut in and confirmed, "Yeah, I wanna fuck you until your spirit leaves your body." I thought it was funny. I half-jokingly told her she looked pretty and she replied, "Who the fuck says pretty?" all offended. So I said to her, "Fine. You're a fine-ass slut." I kinda wanted to stab her. But I understand, girls just want a guy who will abuse them in all the right ways. I went home on the bus with Yoda and Sam at 10 and we hung out for a bit. They sat on my computer and looked at graffiti and I wound up falling asleep around 2.
I can't believe I'm tappin' this ass.
Yesterday, I was at Big Guys from 10-3. I had to take a cab there for $10, since my grandmother's car was still out of service. By 3, she was able to pick me up. But on the way back to my house, it started smoking and had to be returned to the shop again. I feel so bad for that woman. I decided to give myself some alone time before I invited Tara over and sat online. I took a long shower and got into clean clothes, which were freshly cleaned by my grandmother. Dave Hughes stopped by with a birthday present. Disinformation's You Are Being Lied To. It was really nice of him. We talked for a few minutes and then he was kind enough to drive me over to Price Chopper so I could buy a four-pack of really generic toilet paper for 99¢. He's a cool fucking guy. He brought me back home and I sat around some more before calling Tara and asking her to come over. She showed up at 6:30 and we laid around and talked. Had some intensely sweaty sex, of course. Kinda getting routine and I am not enjoying it as much. I'm totally confused by how attracted to me she is, to the point that it's distracting to me. After she left, I stayed on the couch and ended up falling asleep after my Digital Cable froze. It freezes every single day and I end up having to wait at least a half hour before I get my cable back. I can't wait to complain at the end of the month and be waived of an entire month. And yes, that's how it will go, or I will have a nigga moment. I woke up near midnight and rolled around uncontrollably for a few hours before successfully falling back asleep. It was awful. I had to get a ride from my parents this morning to get to Big Guys. Trevor came in at 10 and it was awesome to see him again. Just having him there was great, even though now I have three different people to complain that I'm not doing something their way, which they all believe is the only way. Two weeks after going without soda, I finally took a sip of Coke today. I think I might allow myself one soda a week. Kara gave me permission. I keep munching on this vegan birthday cake my mom made me. It's really good. This weekend's gonna be full of plans, which is totally exciting.
I feel guilty that this entry is so half-ass. But whatever. I wonder if I'm going to be homeless soon or not. I'll worry about it when the times comes, I guess. I really have no choice to do so.
I have forty minutes to write this before Tara gets here and we leave. So I'm eating an unturkey and Tofutti cheese sandwich on wheat and going as quickly as I can. Trevor is home as of today!
Wednesday was my meeting with the lady from Boston and the two cunts who are pushing for my eviction from Southgate Apartments. I slept in as late as I could and woke up a little before 1 to brush my teeth. My parents were ringing my phone as I was brushing and by the time I finished, I watched their car pulling out of my parking lot. So I jogged over and then had to head right back to my apartment to grab some papers. I went in there and waited for ten minutes with my mother. It wasn't until 1:30 that we were called in, after sitting in silence and overhearing their smug laughter being shared in the back. It was pretty clear that these three women were all friends to an extent. When we were called back there, my mother and I took seats and shook hands with the lady from Boston and some balding man who was there probably as some sort of witness for them.
The lady from Boston told me now was my chance to go over my story, so I did. I was pretty quickly cut off by some hyperbolic quote from the old black lady downstairs who is the primary, and pretty much only, person complaining about me, claiming I had screamed, "TROUBLEMAKER!" out my window at her the other day, as well as threatened her the one and only time we ever spoke to each other. Total insanity. For the first forty minutes of this hour-long meeting, I was met with a very disrespectful response from the lady from Boston. I remained calm and spoke slowly so as to watch my every word and be as articulate as possible. But every time I'd deny something I was being accused of, the lady would smirk insultingly and chuckle under her breath, like she was Tyra Banks talking to a teenage guest about sex and drugs. It was really amazing to me, because I thought after our phone call together that I'd be treated me with respect than I had previously experienced from Kathleen and Sue. I had to repeat several times that I do not own a stereo. I had to explain to her that I haven't turned my TV on in over three months. I had to explain to her that I wear headphones when online. I had to clear my cats of being guilty of noise-making, since this lady was so desperate to find me guilty, she suggested that maybe my cats were making the noise. Then she tried to say that it was maybe my weird sleep pattern, which no longer exists, and mentioned my walking. I told her that even if it was my cats' pitter-pattering, or me walking across my living room in the middle of the night, that those noises wouldn't be misinterpreted as a loud stereo or drum set. Kathleen sat in the corner and remained silent the entire meeting, just smiling confidently and making head gestures, like a stuck-up bitch. Sue actually got loud and sarcastic to my face right in front of the lady from Boston and the quiet man. They both looked at her like she was out of line. She denied ever telling me that I was scary to my neighbors. The lady from Boston at one point said to me, "David. If this were a courtroom and an elderly woman came in and then you did, who do you think the judge would believe?" I was shocked at that statement. And I asked her, "How do you decide whose word is truth and whose word isn't? How come because she's elderly, she's definitely telling the truth and because I'm younger, I'm definitely lying?" She never had a direct answer to that question, which I repeated several times.
She said there was one more neighbor who had complained about me making noise. And I asked her, "How many times is the number of neighbors complaining going to change? It's been four, five, and now it's two?" She said even Kathleen said she's heard my loud music and I said, "Yeah, but Miss... she's a liar and does not live here." I was berated for calling her a liar. I was apparently out of line because she's a professional and would not lie. She then went on to imply that I was lying and I cut her off and said, "How come I can't call them liars, but you can call me a liar?" And I asked her, "How come because these two quote-unquote 'professionals' work here, they're infallible and because I'm a tenant, I'm definitely lying?" Again, no real answer was returned. And I said to her outright, "I have no proof of what these two women said and did to me, and they have no proof of what they're saying I said and did to them. So it's either you don't believe either of us, or you take their side, which would be wrong and you know it. It's very obvious that I'm being profiled here and that you already have your mind made up." She claimed she didn't. And I said to her, "No, you do. You've already told me that I'm definitely lying. You really have your mind made up already. You're saying it's impossible that they're lying and I'm telling the truth. I mean, I know they're putting on a great act, since their jobs are on the line, but come on." The last twenty minutes, I noticed a shift in tone coming from the lady from Boston. She started speaking softer. I was told I need to get rid of my cats, which I won't even bother worrying about until absolutely necessary, and then she told me that she needs to review everything, talk to some attorneys, and would get back to me in a few days about whether or not I'm being evicted. By the time I left that office, I was covered in sweat from how angry and stressed out I was. I went back to my apartment and cooled down, then took a shower.
I went downtown and hung out with my brother for the evening. We went to Muddy Cup and hooked up my new laptop to set it up and go online. I felt like such a yuppie hipster, but whatever. Brianna and her younger cousin, who looks like Winnie Cooper, met up with us and joined us while we sat and ate pies and drank juice. Brianna and I made plans for the weekend, which includes her making me a yummy sandwich, and then her and her cousin got going. Yoda and I stayed there for a bit while I made fun of one of the cops there who was walking around, doing absolutely nothing.
Some tall scumbag in a leather jacket, probably in his thirties without a strand of facial hair, walked over to take a seat nearby with his fat, redneck girlfriend, and exclaimed to us, "Heyyy, terrorist brothers!" We looked up and said, "Huh?" and he said, "So, when's the next terrorist attack?!" Why did he say this to us? Because of our beards. You may not know this, but beards are common amongst terrorists and Middle Easterners... not just, ya know, males who grow facial hair in their early twenties or anything. I just cringed at his stupidity and said, "Oh, my god," and put my head back down to my laptop.
We got going and went to Stewarts to sit around and eat chips and salsa. Angie was there. So was Kayla and this beautiful girl named Emily who I hear is really into indie film. Of course, she has a douchebag boyfriend who wears a trenchcoat and sharpens his teeth. I sat and stared at her. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She doesn't wear an ounce of makeup and seriously has the most amazing face; like, everything is flawless: her eyes, lips, smile, cheeks, everything. Plus, she was busy worrying about getting fired for throwing change at a rude customer's face, which made her even more attractive. But oh, well. Angie asked Yoda outloud if I still wanted to fuck her and he told her, "Yeah. Actually, he wants to fuck the life out of you." I cut in and confirmed, "Yeah, I wanna fuck you until your spirit leaves your body." I thought it was funny. I half-jokingly told her she looked pretty and she replied, "Who the fuck says pretty?" all offended. So I said to her, "Fine. You're a fine-ass slut." I kinda wanted to stab her. But I understand, girls just want a guy who will abuse them in all the right ways. I went home on the bus with Yoda and Sam at 10 and we hung out for a bit. They sat on my computer and looked at graffiti and I wound up falling asleep around 2.
I can't believe I'm tappin' this ass.
Yesterday, I was at Big Guys from 10-3. I had to take a cab there for $10, since my grandmother's car was still out of service. By 3, she was able to pick me up. But on the way back to my house, it started smoking and had to be returned to the shop again. I feel so bad for that woman. I decided to give myself some alone time before I invited Tara over and sat online. I took a long shower and got into clean clothes, which were freshly cleaned by my grandmother. Dave Hughes stopped by with a birthday present. Disinformation's You Are Being Lied To. It was really nice of him. We talked for a few minutes and then he was kind enough to drive me over to Price Chopper so I could buy a four-pack of really generic toilet paper for 99¢. He's a cool fucking guy. He brought me back home and I sat around some more before calling Tara and asking her to come over. She showed up at 6:30 and we laid around and talked. Had some intensely sweaty sex, of course. Kinda getting routine and I am not enjoying it as much. I'm totally confused by how attracted to me she is, to the point that it's distracting to me. After she left, I stayed on the couch and ended up falling asleep after my Digital Cable froze. It freezes every single day and I end up having to wait at least a half hour before I get my cable back. I can't wait to complain at the end of the month and be waived of an entire month. And yes, that's how it will go, or I will have a nigga moment. I woke up near midnight and rolled around uncontrollably for a few hours before successfully falling back asleep. It was awful. I had to get a ride from my parents this morning to get to Big Guys. Trevor came in at 10 and it was awesome to see him again. Just having him there was great, even though now I have three different people to complain that I'm not doing something their way, which they all believe is the only way. Two weeks after going without soda, I finally took a sip of Coke today. I think I might allow myself one soda a week. Kara gave me permission. I keep munching on this vegan birthday cake my mom made me. It's really good. This weekend's gonna be full of plans, which is totally exciting.
I feel guilty that this entry is so half-ass. But whatever. I wonder if I'm going to be homeless soon or not. I'll worry about it when the times comes, I guess. I really have no choice to do so.