On his way home from the redneck yacht club

I've parked in handicapped parking spaces before. Was it right? No. Was it convenient? You bet. It's not that I was deliberately trying to gyp a handicapped person out of a spot, that's just what despicable people do. Moving on. I've parked in handicapped spaces, but never across handicapped spaces.

Yeah, you're seeing that correctly. This person not only parked in a handicapped spot without a permit, they parked across it in a manner that prevented others from even parking in the adjacent spot. When I lived in Illinois, my family called this "parking like a Hoosier".

Just so you can develop or further your stereotyping skills, let me describe the driver. He was about 5' 10", had on a denim jacket and cowboy boots, and purchased a can of Skoal long cut.

Stupid rednecks.

Aggravated Apathy

Click the title. My lastest personal blog post very much belongs here, but for whatever reason, it is there.

Fuck the handicapped.

Crapper Catastrophe

When I first moved into my apartment, the little flapper inside the toilet was broken. It was an inconvenience, but not a tragedy. I reported it to the office, and they said they would get to it once they fixed the major issues in people's apartments.

Shortly after this, I had a leak in my bathroom ceiling. Maintenance came to fix it, but not before putting a giant hole in the ceiling first. They promised to fix it soon.

Now, about three months later, the flapper and the ceiling hole have been repaired. Unfortunately, it has come at a great cost.

Whatever they did to my toilet seriously fucked it up to the point that it doesn't flush right. I don't know if this made a difference, but they ripped a big hole in the water saver cylinder. For a few days it would flush, but extremely slowly. We tried plunging it this weekend, but it didn't appear to be clogged. Today I flushed it, and it completely overflowed, flooding my bathroom.

To make matters worse, they completely trashed my bathroom. The toilet flapper and other random pieces of who knows what were partly in my trash can and partly strewn across the floor. A big, wet glob of plaster from the ceiling repair was stuck to the floor tile, and chunks of dry plaster littered my bathtub. In short, my bathroom is a disaster now, and I can't use my toilet.

Fuck you, maintenance, I thought your job was to fix things, not make them worse.