“Too many things… too many things…”

Well, I am officially a resident of Williamsburg. Yay? I’ve been busy peeling off the layer of straight-boy dirt that has accumulated in this apartment – lint on the carpet, toilet issues, shower curtain fiasco, beard shavings, dingy walls… I feel like any place you move to in NYC will be dirty, so I have learned to lower my standards. Anyway, I don’t have internet or cable (GASP!) until I can set up an appointment with the cable company and I can’t do that until my cool-guy roommate sets a cancellation date on his cable. Why is he canceling his cable? Oh, because he just put in his notice and is moving out at the end of the month – so who knows who I will be living with next?!?!?! The adventure continues…

6 Things I Loved About This Week

1. Eating a popsicle while I watched the movers I hired carry my stuff up four flights of stairs.

2. Sticking a dildo inside a broken light fixture for D-Bag Zalman to find – this was after I smashed every single light bulb in the apartment.

3. Buffalo Cantina delivers!!!

4. Meeting a new neighbor at Bed, Bath & Beyond. Her name is Soo-yi and she owns a vintage store a block away from me. We shared a cab back to Williamsburg.

5. Jumping Jack Flash & Outrageous Fortune arrived at my desk! These two movies helped define my sense of humor as a small, gay, fabulous child.

6. Gay Pride was fun! I’ll post pictures when I get my life organized.

6 Things I Hated About This Week

1. Moving.

2. Cleaning.

3. Crying.

4. Sweatting.

5. Falling.

6. Drinking a half bottle of Jack Daniels by myself while listening to the new Coldplay CD. I was trying to motivate myself to unpack, but instead, I just went to sleep. No unpacking. No JO. No nothing.

Zalman is a Hot Mess

Just when you think that I would have a moment of celebration…

Just when you think I can breathe a gasp of relief…

Just a few hours after we won our glorious victory over our heinous landlord, our hot water has mysteriously disappeared. Do Hasids know magic? Or was he mad enough and fast enough to blitzkrieg over to our apartment sometime during the afternoon and shut it off? I swear to Yaweh, this absolutely murders my soul! Maybe it’s co-incidence, sure, but I wouldn’t put anything past this shady mofo.

So, Brian boiled water to wash dishes. Very Little House on the Prairie. I only rinsed the bedhead out of my hair in hopes of taking a real shower later in the day. I texted Zalman three times in the last 21 hours regarding the hot water issue and I have submitted a new report to the NYC help line, 311. I hope everytime he looks at his phone and sees my name, he is reminded how much of a karmic ass whooping he got yesterday.

On a related note – The extremely rude dry cleaning lady that I sued my first week living in New York City was found shot in the head at her store yesterday. I won the case, so it wasn’t me. Some ninja out on parole did it. I just found the timing to be very weird. I would write more, but I have to go text my landlord again.

WE MOTHERFUCKING WON!!!

We were second to last to see the judge today. Motherfucking Zalman tried to get it delayed to another day. Unfortunately for that dirty piece of wet cat shit, he was on first name basis with the lesbian bailiff who was in charge of settling our case before it went before the judge. The bailiff basically told him to stuff it and that we were going to go to trial if we couldn’t reach an agreement.

Our judge wasn’t the amasian, zen lady from before, it was another tiny, ethnic lady instead. Her voice was more stern, but she was still watching out for the little guys (us). Looking around the courtroom, I was amazed that there weren’t more fiesty gays, fighting for their rights. White people give up too fast. The cast of characters in the courtroom were endless. No wonder there are a million different TV shows set in courthouses and law firms and such. So many guest starring roles!

Anyway, we put an offer on the settlement table. Zalman counter-offered with something lame. I brought out my folder full of evidence and opened it to the photo section of all the damage. The bailiff shot Zalman a look and he mumbled something incoherent. Zalman’s new lawyer, dressed in a T-shirt with a silk screen of a badge/necklace printed on the front and sporting well kept dreadlocks, asked to speak with him in the hallway. They came back with a new offer – Pay one month’s rent and move out by June 30th. That’s it! Zalman actually decided to cut his losses, give us three months of free rent, AND made it so we were able to break the lease and move.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You dumb fucker.

Zalman started yelling in the hallway at the rastafarian lawyer. I’m not sure why, but it made my soul glow with sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows! So in essence, we got a month for pain and suffering, a month towards expenses like furniture and time off work, and a third month in place of our deposit that we know we won’t be getting back. Sure, we have to go through the annoying process of moving again, but we have plenty of money to do it! God, it feels good to have a judge officially tell you that you are right. We didn’t even have a lawyer! We did it ourselves!!!!

At no point did anyone want to look at my folder of evidence. Zalman lost this case on his own bad reputation at the courthouse. I will bronze my folder and keep it for a trophy, or maybe I’ll come by the apartment on my lunch break one day in August and hand it over to the bamboozled new tenants.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH! Hey Zalman! You just got SERVED!

Jew Can’t Handle The Truth

Brian and I are going to court (again) tomorrow with our stupid landlord. Let’s hope I don’t have to cause a scene… and if I do, it’s better acted than this -

and most definitely this…

Trials & Tribulations… and Mojitos

YOU: What happened in court today?
ME: Nothing.

At 3am this morning, I had a surprise visitor stumble upon me in Bed-Stuy. My great friend, Colleen, was visiting from Connecticut to see a boy about “closure”, but she got drunk and her evening led her to spending the night on my sawdust covered futon. Brian bought us egg sandwiches and we left for court. Colleen wanted to go along “for the experience”. I made her take a picture of Brian and I on the steps of the courthouse. I love Colleen.

I was thrilled to find out that our judge was a middle-aged Chinese woman who spoke with a zen-like tone and wore a tank top. She was totally going to be on our side. I just knew it. Then, we met our d-bag landlord’s d-bag lawyer, Something Shapiro. He tried to make us to commit to payments and we told he that we weren’t going to be making payments at all. Something Shapiro had no idea about the conditions of the apartment or that the city was already involved and had sent Indians to fix our floor. Something Shapiro rolled his eyes and mumbled something about how he hated our d-bag landlord, who not only didn’t show up, but wouldn’t answer his cell phone when his lawyer tried calling him. Hilarious.

Something Shapiro told the judge that we weren’t willing to settle and she set a trial date for May 20th. She told us to that we “might want to seek the advice of an attorney”. I think she has to tell that to everyone. She didn’t even want to see my giant book of evidence that I had put together. She didn’t know that we were actually ready for trial at that moment if we needed to be. She didn’t know that I am perfectly capable of representing myself in this matter. See you next month!

Colleen was disappointed that she didn’t get to see me in action at court, so she hopped on a train back to Connecticut. After a hardcore, three hour nap, I woke up to Brian making plans for a mojito party. I was gonna go see I’m From Barcelona with The Traveler, but then we realized that the concert was in Hoboken. Mojitos won out and he came over, along with The Straights, The Other Straights, Jeanne & Adam, and Raffy & Vladimir. Brian had to leave for an audition at UCB and left his mojito party just as it was getting good. We were playing a game we invented called Shoeball in my freshly tiled room. The Indians had put the finishing touches on it just 30 minutes before everyone showed up for mojitos. Instead of setting my room back up, we turned it into a shoeball court.

The Traveler tripped me (on accident…. I think) and I busted my knee cap. Since I was still in court mode, I took some photographic evidence of the injury he gave me. We decided that since he has met some of my friends now, he doesn’t need to have a secret blog name. The Traveler is hereby given a real name – Paul. He’s the blonde in the gray shirt who looks like he likes to trip people a lot for no reason. Jerk.

Raffy & Vladimir were the last guests standing by the time Brian got back from his late-night audition. We were quite the wasted fags. I loved the Impromptu Mojito Party! It was exactly what what was needed to shake off the court crap and reset my emotional rollercoaster for next month. Luckily, I have three big auditions this week, a cute boy, Madonna’s new CD that drops this Tuesday, and an upcoming wedding with rednecks to keep my mind off my stupid apartment. Also, I make slideshows….

Shit Meet Fan

I received a phone call in the middle of my breakfast cereal from AJ with G&N Construction. He was outside my door ready to start work at 8:20am even though they had made arrangements to be there later this afternoon. After being late for three months they were 5 hours early. G&N Construction have been a nice bunch of indians (dot not feather) so I was just happy that they were actually here to start something.

I let Brian babysit the construction crew while I ran over to work and kick-started the office. Once my messages were retrieved and doors were unlocked, I came back home to find that my bedroom was empty and the floorboards were torn up. It had been less than an hour! Amazing! Indians are very fast, hard workers. They are all very polite too! They are the Mexicans of New York City. Boy, do I miss real, live Mexicans from Southern California. Now, if only AJ could make me a decent burrito while he hacks away at my apartment…. anyway, I digress. After shoving everything I owned into the living room, I took a shit-ton more photographic evidence for our big court day tomorrow morning.

That’s black mold by the way! I knew it! OK, so I don’t miss the humor in this entirely shitty situation. Trust me, it’s hilarious. That’s why you are laughing in disbelief. However, my sense of humor and patience have been exhausted. I am ready to check myself into a mental hospital. I cannot take the stress of this shit anymore. I feel like I have no place to live, to be comfortable – no place that is mine. I don’t even know where I should masturbate anymore.

I barricaded myself into the back part of my apartment by using my moldy mattress as a wall between the living room and the hallway. It’s helping to keep the sawdust and crap out.

OMG!!! I JUST TURNED AROUND AND FOUND THIS!!!!!! How did it die? I didn’t kill it. Where did it magically come from? And why is the leg detatched? Was it inside my pants? Christ.

Think of Brian and I tomorrow morning at 9:30am!!!! It’s our big court day!

If we don’t win, I’ll die.

Weekend Pre-(r)Amble

First off, Bri-Bri and I have a real, live court date scheduled with our landlord for next Friday, April 25th!!!!! I am probably the only defendant in all of Kings County who is legitimately thrilled to be going to court. I simply cannot wait to bring in fancy, photographic evidence, papers and forms from the city documenting the disrepair of the building, and videos of us on youtube chasing a mouse out of the house. I am currently working on a giant binder to organize and color code all of our court materials. I am a regular Erin Brockovich!

Our shady landlord probably won’t even show his scummy, little, fat face. His lawyer’s heads will spin when they see how prepared I am. Bring it on! Light it up! Set it off!

Last night I had a delicious Vietnamese meal. I had never been to a real Vietnamese restaurant before. I mean, I’ve gone to little hole in the wall places in Garden Grove, California, but they think that anything is Vietnamese food if you put a bottle of Sriracha Sauce on the table. The tasty restaurant I went to last night was called O Mai. This new dude I’m hanging out with suggested it. He certainly knows his restaurant hot spots. Last week, we went to Nomad and had a delightfully zesty, lemon chicken stew. I haven’t decided on a blog name for this guy yet, mostly because I know he will be reading this blog! So, I won’t be able to talk about how bad he smells, or ugly he is, or how both of those things are lies and I actually think he’s quite adorable. Maybe I’ll call him The Traveler since he knows a lot of different languages and travels a lot. There. It’s settled. The Traveler.

Today is sooooo slooooow at the office. Everyone is in Manhattan at some fancy meeting. It will take them all day to get there and all night to get back because The Pope is in town and is gumming up the traffic works. Who knew The Pope would be so popular? I think this Pope is a pretty boring Pope… and a step backwards for all them Catholics anyway. Yawn, yawn, yawn. I would be asleep because he is so boring, but he is creepy looking enough that I am vaguely awake.

OK, well this unspecific blog entry is nearly over. I’m going to a farm in The Poconos this weekend, so I am checking out for a spell. I never thought I would be one of those people who say, “I just gotta get out of the city for a little bit”, but it appears that that is EXACTLY what I have to say right now. Especially right before my big week of construction and court dates! That’s right, the construction guys called me and said their permit is approved and they will start work this Monday. Woo-hoo!

Fallingdown

Maybe this “Age 31″ thing isn’t working out so well. Maybe I should try on a different size, a new, spring color. Some sort of make over is overdue. I’m over it. I have done nothing this week except watch reality TV and pretend to be happy. Ugh. I want to go back to when I wasn’t so krazy.

My landlord cursed at me in Hebrew. I laughed at him. Old Lady Sausage Fingers came back to work after a week long vacation and promptly ate a bowl of oatmeal, mozzerella, an apple and crackers. I knew her menu without even looking at it. The city inspector fucked up some paperwork and now I have to make a new appointment so they can come and inspect the apartment again. Meanwhile, the contractors had to apply for some permit they didn’t have in the first place. So no work is being done on our apartment. I have come to a writers block on the play I’m working on and I feel sad because my creative output is zero – no shows, no rehearsals, nofinishedwritingnoboyfriendsnogentlemancallersnofriendsnohome…

I hope all this New York City-cock-and-balls-bullshit is worth it some day.

“You wanna hang out this weekend?”
“Sure, what are you doing?”
“Not sure yet, I’m waiting to hear back from someone cooler than you.”
“Cooler than me?”
“Well, someone who may further my wants and needs more than you.”
“Um…”
“No offense.”
“OK.”
“You should hang out with those other friends of yours.”
“Yeah. Hey Other Friends, what are you doing this weekend?”
“Hanging out with our hot boyfriends.”
“Oh cool.”
“We’d invite you out, but we don’t want to.”
“I understand. Have fun.”
“I mean, you’re cool.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s just a couples thing.”
“Isn’t James hanging out with you guys tonight?”
“James is hot.”
“Right, of course. I forgot.”
“Maybe you should make plans with your real friends?”
“They’re either busy or crazy or live in California.”
“Or you’ve emotionally alienated yourself.”
“OK, Mr. Therapy.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.”

Bed-Stuy in My Eye

Guess what? Brian and I have officially waged war on our shitty landlord. He hasn’t returned phone calls, he has been unresponsive in making repairs, and, when I call from an unrecognizable phone number and he actually answers, our conversations are short and hostile. This month, however, we are pulling the carpet out from under him.

After creating a pretty dense paper trail of certified letters, 311 complaints, city inspector reports, photos of damage, receipts, and a chronological timeline of everything that has happened up to this point, I felt pretty secure in withholding rent from this horrible, horrible man. Sure, he has tossed a few glue traps for the rats in our entryway. Sure, there was a cheap smoke alarm carelessly thrown on the floor in front of our door. This tells me that he has, indeed, been contacted by 311 and is aware of all of the repairs that are needed. He just chooses to ignore it so he doesn’t have to spend any money. So, we are choosing to not give him any money. Suck it. Here is a full list that I reported to the city inspectors -

FRONT BEDROOM
- Hole in ceiling, ripped paint, occasional water leaks
- Four holes in southeast wall which allow for vermin entry
- Floor sinking into the basement, unstable movement detected
- Exposed electrical wiring on south wall, incident of electrical fire
- Radiator leaking
- Possible black mold from radiator
- Second radiator broken
- Rotted floorboards due to water damage
- Floorboards are peeling up from floor
- Vermin and rodents

HALLWAY
- Radiator sinking into floor
- Rotted floorboards due to water damage
- Possible black mold from radiator
- Exposed electrical wiring in light fixture
- No lights

KITCHEN
- Constantly leaky faucet
- Hole in south wall which allows for vermin entry
- Floor sinking into the basement in a small area
- Vermin and rodents

BATHROOM
- Bathtub leaks onto the floor collecting still water
- Shower head needs to be replaced
- Toilet flushing mechanism needs to be replaced

FRONT YARD
- Trash and debris not collected or maintained
- Dirt and mud left from when they replaced the boiler
- Mailbox not properly maintained
- Drainage blocked, water collects
- Vermin and rodents

BACK ROOM
- Unheated
- No electrical outlets
- Unauthorized add-on
- Wall not insulated

BASEMENT
- Rotten beams that hold up the floor need to be replaced
- Electric panel rotted

Pretty fierce list, huh?

After the city inspector issued a “C Class violation” for the floors sinking into the basement, another city guy came to take pictures of everything, then a construction guy came by to look at the work that needed to be done. He said that it would take between 3-5 weeks and that they would be starting this week. Lucky for me, the city does all the work for the emergency repairs and then takes my landlord to court for reimbursement. Ha! The work includes ripping out the floorboards in my room and the hallway, exposing the basement, and replacing the huge wooden beams that are supposed to support the floor. THEN, replacing the wood paneling on the floor with tiles. Here is my list of concerns -

1. I have to clear out my entire room.
2. Will it be cold because of the gaping hole in the floor?
3. Can people get into the apartment through the gaping hole in the floor that would technically be accessible from the street grate that leads to the basement?
4. I have to live in a kitchen again! Something I swore I would never, ever, ever, for the sake of my mental health, EVER do again!
5. Will it really be finished in 3-5 weeks? My guess is no.
6. Will my computer, digital camera, ipod, TV, DVDs, and stuffed animals get stolen?
7. Should I just move now?
8. Or should I try to squeeze at least two months out of this shit hole to save the money to find a new place to live?
9. Will they find my landlord’s body I hid in the basement?

I want to make my fucking shitface landlord’s life hell. Let him do the legwork of filing court papers to try to evict us. I’ll show up in court with a goddamn smile and a stack of evidence. For months, I have gone to bed every night looking up at a hole in my ceiling, wondering if water will fall on me again. At least once a week, I hear mice and occasional rats rummaging around my room. More than once I have come home to see more than one mice on my kitchen counter tops. Mouse Party! I worry about my room being set on fire because of faulty wiring and rotten electrical panels. We already had one fire in my wall. My last thought before I drift off into sleep is “Will I fall through the floor into my basement tonight?” I have had countless dreams about falling through the floor. When I walk on my bedroom floor, it creaks and bounces up and down. SCARY! I claim mental distress and now I will wage psychological warfare on my landlord. I want his soul to bleed.

Wow. I am really healthy.

Seriously, this is the type of shit that happens to crazy people before they go crazy. I am just a step away from becoming a drunk, homeless lady wearing one purple slipper who yells at strangers on a subway platform about the injustice of everything. So, if I seem a little short fused, please don’t take it personally. I am embroiled in a deathmatch. A gladiator spectacle.

Also, I am working on a writing a play and some sketches, so this blog may or may not be updated as often as it has been. I also may or may not be softly crying in my kitchen. I also may or may not be passed out with an empty bottle of cheap merlot in Grand Central Station. WHY MUST EVERYTHING BE SO HARD?

Ultimately, this will be a hilarious story. Right?

10 to 31: Drats

Last night, a terrible, horrible, awful thing happened. I came home to find a rat. Recently, I have developed a habit of immediately checking the glue traps upon entering my room. I didn’t see one trap where it usually was placed. It had disappeared! I knew this could not have been a good sign. It was in the middle of the floor and had a giant rat attached to it. Not a cute little mouse, but a huge rat!

He stood on all fours and looked directly into my eyes when I flipped on the light. He panicked, squirmed around, and accidentally got his face stuck in the glue! Oh, I felt so bad! I screamed. He screamed. Brian filled up the water bucket. I tried to muster up the courage to pick up the trap. I started crying. The rat jerked himself hard enough to release his face from the trap. I watched him bite his foot off!!! There was blood everywhere!!! Then, the rat pooped all over the place!!! He had so much energy! It looked as if he might actually pull himself out of the glue! We couldn’t let that happen! I don’t want a bloody, stumpy, rat running around my apartment! I had to make Brian put him in the bucket. I just couldn’t do it fast enough. Brian used some kitchen tongs to pick it up and hold him down in the water. I heard him making sad, little rat screams. His little rat air bubbles came to the surface and he fought really hard. I said a little prayer for him and told him we were sorry and he drowned. No more bubbles. I’m emotionally scarred. Poor rat. Always remember. Never forget.

If you are curious to what it was like, there are a million videos on youtube. We did not film this experience because it was just too sad. I feel so bad for that rat. He really did try his hardest. We reset a new trap. I am sure this will not be our first kill.

They say killing gets easier after your first time. By “they”, I mean serial killers I’ve watched in interviews. You know how spirits remain in the area where they were tragically killed or murdered? I might have a ghost rat in my future.

17 to 31: Suggestions

So, I feel a little stagnate. This once a day blogging isn’t really my style. If I am not inspired to write something, I find it very hard to come up with stuff to fill the void. So, I ask you, the reader, to offer some suggestions to inspire my blogs until my birthday at the end of the month. They can be one word suggestions, they can be the title of a song, or even a topic you would like to see covered (a particular TV show or perhaps my most embarrassing moment). Just drop the suggestion in the comment section of this post.

Also, I would like to share that this morning, at 7:32am, my ceiling caved in on my face with cold water and paint chips. It was an alarm of cascading waterfalls with slimy poop water and lead poisoning. I have been full of rage at my landlord all day. He hasn’t returned my calls. I am filling out court papers today. I am at war with Mr. Perl. It’s like World War II all over again, but this time, I want the Nazi’s to win.

Suggestions please!

24 to 31: War

This weekend, my A-hole landlord told me that he doesn’t have to fix anything in my apartment because he just spent $7,000 on a new boiler – a boiler that should have been replaced 19 years ago, and was only replaced this winter because our entire building had called the city to force him to turn on the heat. What a freak. I mentioned my ruined mattress, the 4 holes in my wall, the rapidly expanding hole in my ceiling, radiator leaks, faucet leaks, shower head leaks, bathtub leaks, exposed electrical wiring, rotted floorboards, an electrical fire in my wall and the fact that we spent money on space heaters back in November and I asked if he was responsible for reimbursement of a portion of the electric bill. He said that he will not renew my lease because I complain too much. I dropped my nice-guy act that I had been using with him all along and told him that I will be pressing the issue of these complaints. He flipped out.

I am positive he put a hex on me. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Hebrew curse words sound funny so I laughed at him. He told me to expect to move out on September 1st and that I should go to court if I want everything fixed in my house.

Sounds like a dare to me.

What a complete d-bag! I will not be bullied! He must have mistaken me for someone who backs down when it seems too hard to fight. So today, I have spent all morning doing research online regarding NYC Rental Rights. I am nearly an expert on this matter now and I will have my day in court and he will definitely lose. I have pictures, receipts, 311 complaint records, and very, very fierce tenacity. In just the past 20 minutes, I have been able to find that he has 44 open violations still pending, dating back to 2004, on record with the city.

Ante up, Mr. Perl. You’re asking me to call your bluff. Game on.

Game on.

27 to 31: Harassment

I was late to my sexual harassment seminar because I was having sex.

That was the cute little line I had planned for the blog this morning, but Like-Like ended up going home a little earlier than anticipated. I was fine with it though, I think I have decided to save myself for marriage.

Instead, I was late because our landlord is a douchebag. We have had severe heating and electrical problems since the end of November. Leaky radiators, holes in my wall, exposed wiring, electrical fires inside my wall, water falling from the ceiling and ruining my bed, floorboards rotting, etc, etc, motherfucking etc…. this time around, we haven’t had heat for two days and this morning, in the middle of my tepid shower, the electricity went out.

Immediate rage.

Brian wrote a detailed account of this morning. I didn’t have time to do that because I had to sit in an HR sponsored training session – “Harassment: There Are No Real Winners”. During a portion of the training that told us that stereotypes are untrue, I couldn’t help but want to disagree, but that would make me a horrible person. It’s very hard to remain neutral with people who bring stereotypes to life – like my cheap-ass Jewish landlord who refuses to fix the heat, electricity, or holes in my walls and always has a line of bullshit to tell you about why he can’t fix it right that moment. Spend the money and fix it for fuckssakes!

Now excuse me, I’m going to dress up in drag and smoke some tina.

Karma Police

Remember that old bitch who always riles me up at work? The one whose extreme negative energy infects my soul 40 hours a week? Her loud chewing noises stab me in my ears and in my heart? Well, I walked out of the restroom earlier yesterday afternoon to the sound of her crying. It was awesome! I didn’t know why and I didn’t care at the moment, but I instinctively found great delight in her blubbering. I felt bad right away when I found out that her sister or friend or somebody was just diagnosed with breast cancer. So, in order for the universe to be fair and balanced, I came home after work to find a large, wet, stinky hole in my ceiling… right above my bed.

The hole itself wasn’t as bad as having a completely soaked through mattress, dripping from top to bottom. My blankets and pillows were drenched. The ying and yang was restored quickly. I made a promise to whatever spiritual god-like diety thing that exists that I would be a good person from here on out. Now, I sort of know what it feels like to have a period bed only alot more wetness and not as vagina-ey.

Mouse in the House

Brian and I have noticed that we have a small guest in our house the last couple weeks. The mouse has eaten my Trader Joe’s wheat bread, my pita’s, and my hamburger buns. He has totally carbed out in our kitchen! Apparently, the mouse has flying powers, because he has been on top of the ‘fridge, on the microwave, and our wine shelf. He’s everywhere! I left the package of eaten hamburger buns on top of the ‘fridge in hopes of setting traps and catching him one night. Well, we didn’t have to wait that long, because this morning, while I was watching ‘Ugly Betty’, I heard the tiny, baby mouse chewing threw the buns. I yelled for Brian to help and I ran and grabbed the camera. I guess that makes Brian the man of the house.

There are two very clear shots of the mouse. One, right after Brian bashes the shit out of it and it falls against the wall down to the floor. The other is once we get it outside you can see it run on our steps and try to get back inside!

Also, my laugh doesn’t usually sound that gay.