WIG OUT WEDNESDAY-Smoke Detectors

This video does not even do my pain justice.

But it does convey what I would like to do to the fucking smoke alarm in the parking bay below my apartment.

I moved into a new apartment in August.

Three weeks in, the fire alarm (smoke detector, what the fuck ever) below my apartment starts chirping. I figure since the maintenance man is in the complex every day, he'd hear it and fix it. BIG MISTAKE. The weekend rolls around two days later and the thing is still chirping. The intervals between each chirp getting smaller and smaller. On Monday, I call the maintenance number and report it. The woman doesn't seem to understand and keeps insisting they need to get into my apartment. Ummm no, no you do not. Because it is in the PARKING BAY. Ten minutes later I have a reference number.

Three days later, they finally fix it.

Fast forward three weeks (getting the pattern yet?). I hear the unmistakable chirp of a smoke detector. Figuring it must be the one next to my apartment, I again call it in. Three days later, it stops.

Three more weeks go by. I'm woken at 2 am by the damn chirping.

This has happened every three weeks since I moved into my place. I have called the maintenance number, reported it to the guy who leased the apartment and used their website. Yesterday it started up again. I logged onto the website and told them to fix the thing NOW. Then I called the leasing office at 9:30 am. Left a message. Again at 2 pm. Left a message. I never heard anything from them.

I'm sorry but having to report this no less than 7 times now, I think I warrant some kind of explanation. And when someone calls into your corporate office who pays their rent on time and doesn't cause problems in the complex they deserve a same day call back. I swear if I don't hear something in the next 12 hours, I will report them to every entity I can think of and I'll show up there and flip my goddamn shit so bad they'll wish they had a video camera so they could youtube that shit.

You Know Your Life is In Shambles When...

So I’m naked.

Oh, hello there.

Anyway, I’m naked. I turn the shower on. And I go to get in. As I’m closing the shower curtain, the fucking shower curtain rod comes flying down and my legs go flying up. Like a fucking sitcom. I’m lying there with hot water flowing down, NAKED, tangled up in my fucking shower curtain. And like a sitcom, I can’t get untangled or stand up the first time around. No, I spend a solid five minutes flailing around in the shower with water flying all over the bathroom.

Then comes trying to hang the damn thing back up. It stays up for about 5 minutes and then falls AGAIN while I shaving my legs.

At this point, I think fuck it. No one lives with me, no one is going to walk in on my showering. Finish showering and then mop the floor up.

Now I’m in a robe and go to hang it again. No dice.

You know you’re life is in shambles when shit like this happens*.

*Yes, this is the norm for me.

Did You Know? Cause I Sure as Shit DID NOT.

Just read on to see what is really grinding my gears presently.

Email from me to my apt on Friday at around 2:30 pm:

Last question I swear! Mailbox and key? I have two apt keys... Thanks- I love the place and you were a great help in finding it!

Reponse from apt Monday at 9:50 am:

The Post Office is down Roswell Rd. on the left beside the Dunkin Donughts and Outback Steakhouse. Go to usps.com to get an actual street address. You have to schedule an appointment to have your lock's re-keyed. Glad you like the place, let me know if you have any more questions.

Response to their response at 3:34 pm today:

I've never had to do this with another apartment complex so I wouldn't have thought to ask. I suppose that is a mistake on my part and a lesson learned. However, I'm a little disappointed I wasn't told about this to begin with, especially after calling USPS and finding out it is going to cost me $28 to have this service performed. Might want to keep that in mind for people you show these apartments to in the future. Knowing this up front would have made a difference to me as now I cannot have access to my mail until I have the money to pay for this service.

And their response to that at 4:05 pm today:

I'm not sure how many different apartments you have lived in, but this is a fairly common thing. We have no authority over the stand-alone mail box's. The Post Office has installed these stand-alone box's at 95% of our properties and all over Atlanta. The $28 is essentially the same thing as a set up fee for your power, cable, etc. If the $28 is too much for you to float at this point you can simply get a P.O. box. You are not required to set up your mailbox, it is simply for your convenience.

WHAT.THE.FUCK? And this completely relates to my planned WIG OUT WEDNESDAY about the post office and governments attempts to keep America working. Suffice to say, if you watch the news, USPS is reporting a decline in revenue. I'm not sure how since you are charging me fucking 28 to use my own mailbox.

Also, just in case anyone was wondering, I switched power companies and didn't have to pay any connection fees so my apt complex can kiss it.

And, I've lived in 4 apartments jackass and never had this happen before. And my parents, between the two of them, have lived in about 15 and never had this issue. So clearly, it has nothing to do with the number of apartments I've lived in and everything to do with you failing to mention pertinent details (other pertinent details I know nothing about: how to access the free wi-fi they offered me and whether I can use the closet with the number 14 on it below my apt).

Clearly, my decision making skills should be called into question at this point.

One Shithole Down...two more to go...

So, I got an offer that seemed too good to be true and in typical Berryfine fashion, I immediately began daydreaming about the wonderful life I would have in my new two bedroom apartment in the cute but vintage Avondale Estates. Of course, per usual, whenever I try to be positive about something I am inevitably disappointed.

When she said they had "landscapers", she meant they pay an illegal $5/hr to mow the lawn and pick up sticks. And the lawn ain't much to mow- except of course the one right outside the model building.

Hardwood floors- like "she told me" (ummm no she didn't)- are an upgrade. And by upgrade, she does actually mean an upgrade since the carpeting is circa 1980 and is reminiscent of my elementary school floor (which I was acquainted with during tornado drills).

The master bedroom that "fits a king size bed" does, in fact, fit a king size bed- if you plan on never seeing the floor and not being able to shut any doors.

The "roomy walk in closet" is just a long closet. My current closet is double the size and filled to the brim with clothing so that won't work.

The "vintage" bathroom is the size of a box. So that's what vintage means...

The woman told me the place is "always this quiet". Um probably because the neighbors are all in their 80s.

"People live here 10, 15, 20 years...they just don't leave!" Umm, because they cannot afford to?

And on another note, don't set a fucking appointment with me for 2:30 pm and then when I show up NOT BE THERE. So I called and got the answering service. So I knocked. Bitch, hey Suzy!, opens the blinds and mouths "were closed". As she goes to shut the blinds, I yell that I have an appointment at 2:30 which she thinks is a lie. She opens the door and tells me she'll be with me in a minute then shuts the door in my face! Not the best way to get future tenants.

Also, I don't generally follow apartment reviews because the only people that do them are people who hate them but the reviews for this complex seem to be pretty fucking on target. I will NOT be moving into Avondale Station any time soon (unless I can't find something else by August 8th!)

FreakOut Friday

I know, I know…I’m doing this all wrong. It’s supposed to be Wednesday Wigout and Fun Friday or Fuck up Friday or something equally as entertaining and oh so fun. Unfortunately, in my world the stress level has hit epic proportions. There’s all kinds of personal shit going on in my life that will remain personal. I mean the public followers are pretty much my friends but I know there are some sneaky people who won’t admit to reading my blog so you don’t deserve to stalk me further. So, since Wednesday was Wedding Wednesday today shall become FreakOut Friday (obviously, it was the title of the post).

So, I’m hunting for a job (this blog I’m sure is not helping). It fucking blows (for instance that comment right there). Add in the fact that I have until August 8th to find a new place because I hate the hellhole I live in right now and my life is literally below shambles. It’s like BPs oil leak is in my apartment. I’m drowning in oil (I can’t wait for someone to jump on me for comparing my life to that of the BP Oil Spill. It’s not quite the same level- I get it. Back off). My days are consumed with work, overtime work, gym, applying for jobs I’m never going to get and emailing apartment complexes only to find out 700 square feet (usually less) is going for minimum $1000 in Atlanta. Seriously, the only thing worse than apartment hunting is job hunting and putting the two together is like the worst form of hell. Actually, the worst form of hell would be having to do all of this in a bathing suit surrounded by Victoria’s Secret models.

There are a lot of things standing in the way of me getting a job. The largest one being that I’m me…and not someone cooler, more edumacated, in the know, whatever.

• My resume BLOWS. You would think, me having been a recruiter, I would know how to write a damn good resume. Not so my friend. I used to joke around with people and say I got my job as a recruiter because I had a lot of trouble finding myself a job and no trouble finding others a job. That holds true to this day. It is hard to list everything you do in a day in an intelligent manner (log into work, check email, print claims, write blog, stuff envelopes, write another blog, print patient claims, read other peoples blogs, run mail, get coffee, gchat, write third blog, lab billing, read ny post, patient write offs, wash dishes, check facebook, bbm with Amanda, call patients, log out. Shit, I'm half way there!)
• My interviewing attire is ATROCIOUS. Actually so is my work attire in general.Here’s the issue, I dropped 22 lbs. But when I weighed a lot, I just squeezed my size 16 ass into the size 12. So obviously, now the size 12 is stretched to a 16 but I don’t fit in an actual size 12 either. I also don’t fit in a size 10. I’m pretty much fucked. And if I keep losing weight there is no reason to waste money on pants. I don’t care how rich I am, I will not waste money on clothing I LOVE to not be able to wear it at a later date. It’s stupid.
• I have a tattoo ON MY FOOT. There is no getting around this big ass saying that covers the entire top of my foot. Meaning that I cannot wear the one suit that fits me. It’s a skirt suit and not only is this tattoo unprofessional in general but also what if the person interviewing me has some creepy foot fetish? I don’t want to draw more attention to this entire ordeal.
• How do you tell someone why you were FIRED? If someone was fired from a job, as a recruiter, I refused to hire him (or her, being political correct sucks balls). Especially if the reason had something to do with their general attitude. Now, how the hell do I explain that I was fired because one day I had a terrible, no-good, very bad day which could entirely be attributed to work because I was leaving for vacation that day so I logged into facebook and typed the following “I hate my job. No joke.” I’ll explain more on this later. It’s a post in itself. Anyway, what kind of explanation do you give? And how do you make anyone realize you have learned from your stupid behavior?

This post is getting long (as is my freakout for that matter) so part dos will have to come at a later date. Wait for it. I mean I guess I could sum it up like this “Without a new job and better salary, I cannot get another apartment. The end.” Post posted. Bing bang boom.

Piggy Back - Neighbors.

I am going to try to not wig out like Erin did - but neighbors suck. It is one thing to be an inconsiderate neighbor/human being when you live in a HOUSE with a yard dividing you from the people you live around but in an apartment complex. Really? Why are you SO great that no one else matters?

When I moved into our apartment I was told that they used sound proofing materials for the walls and since I was an end unit we would have a lot of peace and quiet since no one ever used the stairs. I must be a dumbass to believe that shit because I have not had a peaceful nights sleep in oh, over a year. Let's address the issues that I have at The Battery At Chamblee Station in regards to neighbors and noise.

The bitches above me: Are you elephants after 5pm?! I swear to God they do not walk. They hop on pogo sticks, wear combat boots, or hop from one room to another. All we hear all night long is thud.thud.thud.thud. FML. My boyfriend and I constantly ask the question "what the hell are they doing up there". Like Erin's neighbors, I know when they're eating due to the slamming of cabinets and when they're done eating due to the dish washer. I know when they're getting it on because I can hear every moan and groan and squeak of their brass bed. Oh baby Oh baby is not what I want to hear at 2 AM on a work night (or any night for that matter). And is it really necessary to vacuum at 11:30 PM.

The ass clowns above me and to the left: He beats her. Her being his girlfriend or wife. His lady friend. They argue so loud that my dog can hear them and we live a floor down and over one. Because my dog has super sonic hearing he barks and barks at them and my neighbors get so annoyed they have to RUN up the stairs to tell them to shut their pie holes it is 2 AM.

The whole building who uses the stairs past 11 PM: Are you training for an uphill run? Must you run up and down the steps and bang your feet? Must you scream into your cell phone or at your friends who are following you? Seriously. First of all, it is like late night, why are you not at all considerate about people who may be I don't know sleeping? My neighbor to the left and only neighbor on my floor works for a valet company - he comes in super late every night - but he also RUNS up the stairs. Waking me up and my boyfriend and my dog. My dog then barks and barks and barks. I have to get out of bed, reign him him and then settle back in my sheets. Only to have him realize he left something in the car and to run back down them and then back up. My neighbor is not the only one. Everyone seems to use the stairs now and it is like Macy's fucking Thanksgiving Day Parade up and down the stairs at all hours of the night.

We are moving when our lease it up and never living by stairs again. My main question is - why does nothing happen during normal afternoon hours. Why must every one's asshole tendencies come out in the middle of the night when people are trying to sleep?!