Archive for inappropriately long posts

To Catch a Cheat

Posted in are you joking me? with tags , , , on April 7, 2009 by thedith

In a previous post, I referenced my thieving roomate, Roomie Madoff.  In case she comes up in other posts, I better explain myself….So, I just found out that one of my roomates, Rachel*, has been swindling me.  Her name’s on the lease, so she figured it was totally legal, but homegirl’s an idiot and didn’t read up on her San Francisco Tenant Laws, because it turns out, it’s not.  She has the biggest room in the apartment, yet she pays the least. Approximately half — that’s right, HALF of what I pay. She’s got huuuge windows that overlook the Golden Gate bridge.  Meanwhile, I have a tiny slit pretending to be a window that has a lovely view of the back of our refrigerator. My other roomate, Caitlin, told me all of this a few weeks ago. Caitlin has the smallest room, yet for many months she was paying TWICE the amount Rachel was paying. Their old roomate moved out of my room because she found out what Rachel was doing when the apartment above ours went up for rent. She now lives happily upstairs with her friends. When confronted about the money laundering,  Roomie Madoff responded,  “sorry, I know it sucks, but I’m saving up money to travel around South America.” I know! After Caitlin found out, she confronted our roomate (complete with printed out copies of the law ol Fuckface was violating) so she lowered Caitlin’s rent some, increased her own by a little, and still continued to bleed me for money. The funny part is, earlier last month when I paid my rent, Rachel was like,

“oh, so I was thinking, when you move out in May [ed note: oh yes, when i signed the sub-lease i learned that her younger sister is graduating from college in May and moving into my room in June — great time to let me know, right?] I’ll reimburse you a little bit, and then it will be like you paid $100 dollars less per each month.”

“Oh, thank you! that’s so nice of you!” I gushed. Ha. Nice my ass, Captain Crook.

When I found out about this Ponzi scheme to fund Rachel’s trip around South America, I wanted to confront her, but she was conveniently away for the weekend; skiing in Tahoe — probably on slopes of cash made out of my money.  After a two-week long email exchange, where she tried to tell me that I couldn’t see our lease because her “agreement with the landlord is private”.  She finally consented to talk about matters face to face.  Again, she tried to slither out of telling me the total rent of the place (something that Judge Judy would yell at me for not asking about up-front, but like, it was my first subletting experience, and I’m an HONEST person and didn’t expect to be living with a psycho who likes to rape my savings so that way she can buy expensive high-tech sleeping bags from REI).  Eventually she cracked, and I found out I’m paying like 2/3 of the rent which is hilarious in a sick, twisted way.

“Uh, wow.” Was all I said.  “That’s not only unfair, but totally illegal.”  I pushed myself away from the table to collect my thoughts.

“Well, that’s what I put the ad out for, and you accepted.” McSwindler hissed through pursed lips.

“Um, okay, but you know there are laws about how to set up a sublease right? Like, you can’t just go around making up any price you want. ”

“Well, Caitlin and I have been here the longest, so, we’re paying less.”

Youuu liar, you two are paying less because you were only paying $400 dollars, and Caitlin caught you. I wanted to say.  But instead I settled for, “Okay, that’s nice.  But the law says if we don’t split the rent down the middle, it’s determined by room size, and I’m sorry, you have the biggest room — by far.”

“My room’s not really that big –” she started to protest.  To which I should have said, are you kidding me? You have a bike, a tv + tv stand, a table, a fucking corner NOOK with a table and a chair, and an outrageous view of the city! But instead I said, “Rachel, that’s not true.” Then I laughed.  Because that’s what you do when faced with ridiculous people: you laugh at them.

“Listen, you’re room is bigger.  By a lot, we can solve this by measuring it. ”

“I’m sorry [ed note: no you’re not, whore!] but you agreed to pay that much.”

“Yes, but I’m paying disproportionately more, which means by law, the amount that I agreed to pay is null in void.”

“What? So you can just make up a price for your rent?” Her beady eyes darted about in confusion.

No, moron, what do you think laws are for? “No, it needs to be determined based off of room square footage.” I repeated through gritted teeth.”

“Okay, look, I don’t want to remeasure rooms…” She started.  Then she offered me a deal which I realized the next day is STILL a rip-off, and I’m STILL carrying the bulk of the rent, but I was tired and over it.

Until today.

I discovered a nice little passive-aggressive sheet of paper lying on the kitchen table.  It was a piece of paper, breaking up how much money Caitlin and I “owe” in utilities.  Thanks, Mom, for breaking that down for us!  You know who’s name was NOT on the paper? If you guessed “Rachel” then you’re smarter than she is.  Like, seriously, c’mon now.  You think I’m just going to blindly accept that Caitlin and I each owe $20 dollars for gas/electricity for the month of February, and you owe…what? $20 dollars? Really? Our gas bill for one month in 60-degree-weather San Francisco is $60 dollars? I uh, don’t think so.  So Caitlin and I talked about it today, but basically, it takes a whole lot of strength to not just like, push her out her big fucking window overlooking the Golden Gate bridge.

*Name has NOT been changed

Buckle Your Seatbelts, It’s a Doozy

Posted in Weekend Wars with tags , , on April 6, 2009 by thedith

Sooo Here’s how it happened

This weekend was a good weekend: my money stealing roomate was out of town.  If you’re new to the whole Roomie Madoff saga, I’ll enlighten you in another post, but for now, just know that she’s ripping me off — and I’m not happy about it.  Feeling in a festive mood because we’d have the apartment to ourselves, The Good Roomate really wanted to have a tropical cocktails party. Unfortunately, someone had stolen her phone 2 weekends ago, so she only has like 5 phone numbers in her phone: some High School friends and an Indian Hipsterboy who she’s on the fence about,  and some  30-something- year-old Brazillian businessman who she’s desperately avoiding.

“Should I invite our neighbors upstairs?” Good Roomate mused aloud.  Feeling social, I replied yes.  I had never met one of our upstairs neighbors, an elusive dude whom I had never seen, but often heard.  You see, he’s a “professional musician” i.e. he’s unemployed and spends his time playing the guitar and singing all the Beatles songs found on the “I Am Sam” soundtrack.  Earlier in the week, Good Roomate, née Caitlin, expressed the desire for one of us to hook up with our wannabe Clapton, because “it’d be really funny.” A statement  I  had to agree with.

Our neighbors weren’t home, so Caitlin left a post-it note on their door to come hang out with us. Despite calling Slumdog Hipster, our only guests were Caitlin’s friend Ferrah*, and her  boyfriend, Gavin*. At one point, Ferrah started to feel tired.
“Want some of my ADHD medicine?” Caitlin asked, pouring more champagne into her grapefruit juice cocktail.
“Uh, sure, why not.” Ferrah shrugged her shoulders. Caitlin came back with a little pink pill.
“What is this?” Ferrah asked.
“Dexatrine. It’s an amphetamine.”
“Ohhh no! The last time you gave me one of these I was up for like 2 days!” Ferrah pushed the pill back across the table.
“That’s because that was a slow release one. This is a fast-release one. it releases all the amphetamine at once so it only lasts for like, 4-6 hours.   Don’t take the whole thing — here, split it with Meredith.” Caitlin broke the pill in half, and that’s how I ended up accidentally on an “amphetamine” last night — but half of one, so it doesn’t even count.
“Here, Gavin, take one too. I hate ADHD meds, I’m trying to get rid of them.” Caitlin gave The Boyfriend a pill too.
“Can you snort it?” He asked.
“Uh, I guess…” Caitlin laughed. We all laughed. We thought he was joking. He was not. He snorted the ADHD medicine off of a kitchen cutting board. This didn’t go over too well with his girlfriend. Then Good Roomate and I felt kind of guilty.   But, what’s snorted is snorted, and we poured ourselves some more champagne, and all was right in the world once again.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. it was upstairs neighbor. He introduced himself as having some name other than Eric Clapton, but I quickly forgot it. He was not cute. And yet — and yet, I still thought one of us should hook up with him. Why not me? Yes I can! I thought. Maybe Good Roomate did too, maybe she didn’t.  But in my head, we were in silent competition for like, a good 3/3-and-a-half minutes.   But then, as we were walking down the street, Caitlin randomly saw her ex boyfriend walking down the street with a swarm of Fratboys — faded somewhat from their college glory years, but damnit if they didn’t think they were dressed like kings (poped polo shirt collars, topsiders, tucked in shirts…)! Oh man, it was awful.*
[*I told this story to Mel  over gchat today, and at this spot in the story, she replied, Melanie: girls got needs]

Sooo Caitlin beelines towards the Brooks Brothers, jumps in a cab with Prepdog Millionaire and his friends, and is like “meet us at Toooooniiiicccc” as the cab pulls away.
Me, Ferrah and her boyfriend, and Clapton did NOT want to go to Tonic, so we just kind of watched the cab pull away, shrugged our shoulders, and walked down the street to another bar.   At this point, I’m kind of grumbly because now I’m STUCK with the neighbor, and realize he’s sooooooo boooooring. Like, SO BORING. HELLA boring. At one point, he told me that he’s part Indonesian, part Chinese — and that was the most interesting thing about him. (“How about you? what are you?” he asked. “Uh..” I responded. “You’ve got some Native American in you, I can tell. That’s cool, I can dig that.”)And I start to realize, there are like a million and 1 other DTD reject guys who i could totally make out with, if only I had better thought through my schemes! But alas, I was trapped. So then I just looked forlornly into the Blue Moon Clapton bought for me.  Then, Ferrah starts falling asleep in the bar, despite the “amphetamine”  we took earlier.  Meanwhile, her  boyfriend is like, SO psyched on life after snorting the same amphetamine . And me? I’m just bored.

So we all leave, and I decide “fuck it, I’ve come this far, might as well hook up with the neighbor,” and I’m pulling all the best seduction moves:  leg touches, eye contact, compliments, charm, wit*, laughter — you name it, I tried it.
[*Melanie: hahaha wit]

But Clapton’s stuck in his hippy reverie (he’s like, high-Matthew-MccCaughnehey-playing-the-bongos-naked hippy, okay?) and we even go up to the rooftop, and he literally just wants to talk about how he does yoga and looks at the stars. and I have to hear about surfing, and skateboarding, and guitar playing, and everything being “hella chill”. and then I realize, not only is he really boring, he just sucks! In fact I kind of hate him. He’s all kinds of Norcal awful. He’d say stuff and I’d literally roll my eyes. I wanted to be like, ‘shut up, just DO me!’ except he’s wasn’t even attractive, and hello? I meant metaphorically.  Sheesh, who do you think I am? Once the novelty of hooking up with the neighbor wore off, I realized ‘hella’ is not even a real word, and he does yoga on the rooftop while “absorbing good vibes” from the neighborhood children at school? At this point, I said I hate children (sooort of joking of course) and he got offended and that’s when I realized: I really DO hate him. he’s not funny. He’s boring. He’s not cute, He’s not even a good guitar player. But I AM going to make him teach me how to skateboard this week. Seriously, though. I hate him. He’s boring.

*Sometimes I change names until I get the o.k. otherwise