Thursday, July 15, 2010

Reasons I hope my landlord falls of a cliff

My much handsomer alter ego is currently in a country called Kosovo. He has a landlord that he doesn’t like. I shall assume his persona… now (Does someone really understand anything about this whole alter ego crap?)

When I first got to Pristina (the capital) and saw the house I was living in, it looked fine. The landlord had just contracted the home and it was freshly built; everything seemed sleek and modern. The house has four floors, a group and I occupy three floors with three of us on each floor and the landlord uses the basement apartment.

The landlord was there for about a week and left. He works in Germany and I didn’t mind seeing him go. The floors each have their own doors but we are a big group and leave them open allowing us to treat it as one big home, using the stairwell to visit each other at our leisure. Not having some creepy landlord at the bottom of the stairwell didn’t seem like a bad idea. Then things started happening. Imagine a demonically possessed house of ineptitude. These are the reasons I hope he falls off a cliff:

1/ Internet is included but the cheap bastard left us with one wireless router for nine of us, each with our own laptop. He didn’t spring for the largest bandwidth and it crashes all of the time (Are you guys living without internet? Oh my Gosh! Kosovo is a so tough place… Be a man for God sakes!)

2/ The home was supposed to be fully furnished for us but half of the rooms have nothing but futons in them. I live like a cloistered monk. I love keeping my clothes on the floor and being surrounded by four white walls when I go to bed every night (It reminds me of the mental institution, those were the days) (Okay, I concord in this one, that mental institution was amazing, shame some of us got out)

3/ The water pressure doesn’t reach the top floor and the people living up often have to come downstairs to take a shower when we all have to leave for work in the morning. (I can’t believe you super American guys still alive… I didn’t take a shower since a week already and I am very healthy and fine so far dude!)

4/ My toilet broke because the cheapest possible parts were used. If any of you have lifted the lid on a toilet, there is a plug that opens and closes to allow it to fill with water and then release it when you flush. He bought a piece that doesn’t fit properly so that it lets water through, the cistern doesn’t fill up and thus the toilet doesn’t flush. Of course the first time it didn’t flush on me, I had just relieved myself in the secondary fashion (I was taking a shit) and I had to leave my poop there without knowing what the hell to do. Somehow the maid our landlord hired got it all to go down without the flush working.
I have become a defecation nomad since I don’t like to use my housemates’ toilets. I go in restaurants and at work whenever I can. (Okay alter ego or whoever the hell you want to be, this is something I learned a week ago: TMI)

5/ The neighbors are right on top of us and loud as hell. The landlord decided to build a house on a narrow plot surrounded by shrieking neighbors. They prefer settling their many family disputes after midnight. I’m sure they can’t go out in daylight. Although the children like to go out in the daytime and bicker in their high-pitched whines while I am trying to get work done in my room. (I understand your pain in this one, it’s very difficult to be focused working while there is noise all around and when your work is being masturbated)

6/ A door fell of its hinges. Yes a brand new door on the first floor simply came off of its hinges. (Would anyone like a sled? It’s made of a great wood) (This blog is full of fucking publicity or it’s just me?)

7/ Remember the maid he hired? She cleans our house once a week. Great right? Nope, she steals. Not just money but random things. She stole my friend’s purple eye shadow. What a slovenly wench wants with makeup is beyond me. (You have to respect maids man, you don’t want to deal with Jenny again do you?)

8/ Remember our Internet? It doesn’t work anymore. Is it the company’s fault? No, he just hasn’t paid the bill. How do we know? Because when we try to go online, the internet service directs to a page that tells the landlord that he hasn’t paid and offers him convenient links to pay; such as with a bank account or even western union!
Our truant piece of shit landlord doesn’t pay bills. There is an electric bill we received that is past. (I’m seriously starting to be attracted to your landlord man)

9/ Perhaps he’s strapped for cash and waiting for our rent to clear you might wonder. No, we game him 2700 Euros before we even got there for two months rent. This is a country where the per capita GDP is les than 2000 dollars a year. We gave him a small fortune. The Internet bill is 30 Euros; the electric bill is 65. (Definitely, that guy is my new hero, an old Kosovan ripping off a bunch of young Americans is something remarkable)

10/ We are in Kosovo. The court system is ready to handle complaints against landlords. It would take us years to get our claim. I want him in jail. I want him to fall off a cliff. (Maybe you guys should give him some more money in exchange of him falling off a cliff. He seems to be a guy whom you can trust)

Monday, July 12, 2010

Things I am ashamed of

Everybody has secrets, everybody is hiding something from his friends, relatives or partners. That is perfectly normal, people are insecure and we need to pretend we are like everybody else even though all of us are different. I have to say I am tired of that. I want to get out the closet and confess my secrets. These are things I am ashamed of:

1/ One day I was at home and they broadcasted Hanna Montana’s movie on my TV. I watched it and even liked it (Almost cried when she sang: The climb in front of her family and fans being just Miley)

2/ I listen to Taylor Swift’s music sometimes (She is very relatable…)

3/ I have to shit in the airports because I get nervous before flying (US airports are the best to shit, but the greatest restrooms have always been in the museums, try it and you’ll find out what real cleanliness is)

4/ I don’t like American Football, I watched at the stadium the match with most scoring in playoff history and I was pretty bored the whole time (The extra time was just a tragedy for me)

5/ I type just using two fingers (I usually do a lot of things using two fingers ladies...)

6/ This blog (Thanks God it is anonymous)

7/ I prefer very bad movies than very good movies because they amuse me more (The guy who made the Sixth sense is gradually becoming my hero)

8/ I prefer black women than whites, I find way more attractive blacks than whites (Black women don’t find me attractive, I don’t fulfil their expectations according to them)

9/ I had to babysit a two year old girl once and she managed me like twenty-year-olds do (She just realized she was smarter than me and used that to her benefit to eat all the ice cream, M&Ms and chocolate she wanted)

10/ I usually use the bidet (That’s the reason why I came back to Spain)

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Ways of dealing with a maid

I have to find a work as soon as possible, the life of doing nothing is over for me. The reason: My parents hired a maid. You don’t appreciate the home life until an unknown person starts working in your house two mornings per week. She is a normal person though, where I live it is very common that women without studies or working experience work as maids while their children are at school. My maid is almost fifty, not attractive at all and not particularly outgoing if you are wondering.

You wake up unkempt, disoriented and with a huge boner, then you raise your head and you find an unknown woman cleaning your corridor. Or you want to have breakfast but your maid is cleaning the kitchen and the living-room at the same time. You just want to watch TV while waking up, but since someone is working in the same place you feel so bad that you have to leave. There are only inconveniences in having a maid working at your house.

The truth is that you feel guilty just for being at home, you see her doing her stuff and think: Well, I guess I could have cleaned that…I’m sorry I don’t know why I didn’t pick up those socks from the floor… Damn! I should have picked up those crumbs myself… You don’t have to make my bed, it is not necessary…Are you sure my mom commanded you to have sex with me?

The worst is with the bathroom though. I can’t take a shit when I know someone is in the other side of the door waiting to clean it. I can’t even pee knowing she is there, too much pressure. What if I miss the toilet or something? Some days I get inside the bathroom and see how everything is really clean How could I have a shower and mess it all up again? My personal hygiene is seriously deteriorating because of this whole thing

What do I do you may ask yourself? I try to sleep until she leaves, that means I sleep until one o’clock every Tuesday and Thursday. My sleeping has been very unbalanced since she has been working in my house. I’m suffering some kind of jet lag without even travelling. Furthermore she is noisy and sometimes she wakes me up and I just lay in my bed waiting for her departure, and she is a hell of a worker, she usually leaves after the time she should (I hate non-lazy people)

If you are suffering this same discomfort by any chance I took the licence to give you some tips, to help you get through the whole weird situation. These are ways of dealing with a maid:

1/ Respect her work overall and try to make her feel comfortable, chit chat with her a little bit and act normally, like if she was your mother or something (Until she was hired I thought that mothers and maids were the same thing. Now I understand the bad looks my mother used to give me when I called her “Maid”)

2/ Ask her if she needs help just to be polite knowing she will refuse and then be free to do your own stuff without worrying about her (I usually clean up the house when I do my own stuff so that would be impossible. That’s probably the reason why my parents hired a maid in the first place)

3/ Without saying a word, stare at her completely for the three hours she spends at my house. No matter how loud she asks me what I am doing or how loud she asks me to stop this behaviour, keep staring at her without saying a word (Did I mention that I’m still single ladies?)

4/ Take care of everything before she arrives so she has no work to do (That’s what I do with prostitutes)

5/ Accuse her of stealing and get her fired (That would be a mean thing to do, I prefer while she is cleaning the boiler, pretending an accident happened and carefully setting her on fire)

6/ Walk around naked until she freaks out and quits (I don’t see that happening, she cleans naked and seems to understand the comfort of nakedness pretty well)

7/ Put chemicals in her cleaning products so that she hallucinates (Last time I did that we ended up fucking the hell out of each other. And she was calling me Alf during the whole thing for some reason I didn’t understand yet)

8/ When I wake up with a boner and I see her, ask her to take care of it and basically molest her sexually while she is working until she quits (Do not, I repeat: Do not try this with plumbers, just with maids)

9/ Pee and crap on my bedroom floor until she realizes that the 20€ per day she gets isn’t worth it anymore (Then I would have to find somebody else to daily clean the urine and feces on my floor, you know, once you start going on your floor, going back to the toilet is crazy, a big step back in your life)

10/ Bury her in the backyard and start a legend of cursed maids in my house to scare the next one (Or just show this one the bones of the previous one in my backyard)

Monday, July 5, 2010

Reasons why my tongue is fucked up

Yeah, you heard right, my tongue is fucked up. It started in Arizona I think. I felt itchiness, then pain and then when I checked out in front of the mirror I saw a little wound. After a few days it went away, but after another few days it came back. I’ve been suffering this situation for almost four months already. I have a wound in my tongue coming and going every fucking week more or less.

I had an interesting debate with myself due to all this: Tongue is dentist’s or family doctor’s territory? Should I go to my doctor or should I go directly to my dentist? Whoever I go is a thirty minutes ride, that’s probably why country people are so fucked up, we are too lazy to drive an hour just to visit a doctor. We prefer death over step in an urban city.

I checked on the internet and it seems like I have a “geographic tongue” That is my auto-diagnosis. At this point of my life I just assume resentful that I suffer diseases that affect only 1% of population. I can handle it. I can live with permanent pain in my tongue What the hell! I just use it when I drink, eat, talk, kiss, fellate myself, yawn or sneeze.

The truth is I don’t know why is this happening to me. I would love to know what I did wrong. As always I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I came out with some possibilities. These are some reasons why my tongue is fucked up:

1/ It isn’t my fault. In the internet they said that people with stress can suffer this disease in their tongues (Stress? Stress? I don’t have stress at all father fuckers!)

2/ It isn’t my fault. This disease just appears in the youth to some people, as it came it can go away (Sure, same thing they told me with the premature ejaculation)

3/ It isn’t my fault. Maybe the spicy Mexican food I ate in Arizona is the responsible of that. Mexicans have the guilt (Mexicans probably have the guilt of my urine incontinence too)

4/ Maybe it’s my fault. I don’t flush enough and that’s why my mouth is so messed up (Missing a tooth, wounds in my tongue, bad breathe, double uvula… Wow! I’m almost not attractive)

5/ It’s probably my fault. Taking that mood off of my bike’s wheel licking doesn’t seem such a good idea now (It was the only way of reaching the hard spaces though)

6/ It could be my fault. For pretend having my whole teeth I painted my tongue’s tip in white colour and emplaced it in the missing tooth’s spot (Who am I going to fool? I painted it yellow… Dark yellow is the colour of my teeth okay!)

7/ It’s my fault. I should haven’t performed cunnilingus to her (The elderly just forget about they personal hygiene sometimes)

8/ It’s my fault because I’m the opposite of a pyromaniac, I’m an icemaniac. I freeze everything I can and then I lick on it (It isn’t the biggest of my problems… I’m still waiting for that mother fucking horse to get completely frozen while ice is getting more expensive every year)

9/ It’s definitive my fault. Writing this blog taping just with my tongue isn’t a challenge that really worth it anymore (The guy who I bought the keyboard from was even more idiot than me though, he was writing his blog taping just with his dick. What a prick!)

10/ It’s completely my fault. I ran off of weed and started smoking stinging nettles (Then I ran off of stinging nettles and started smoking wild death animal’s guts)

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Reactions to a mendicant boy necking my friend

There is a place like Galicia 40 years ago, sort of. Galicia plus high heels and internet and minus religion; and lots of meat instead of seafood. It is called Kosovo. It is the youngest country in the world. Galicia is the oldest. (If you say so…)

Anyway, my much more handsome alter ego (according to him) was in Kosovo one day with a couple of other guys. Just knocking back some beers at a cafe and discussing the surrounding women in English under the assumption that they didn’t understand a word they were saying. A woman next to my alter ego with silky legs and sumptuous boobs, was blowing bubbles and eating an ice cam cone. She had a short skirt and a child with her as well as a couple of other ugly children not worth mentioning.

On the walk over my alter ego had seen a street mother admonishing her child for ticking his hands down his pants in public, way, way down (You should’ve taken photos of that, dude)

Anyway, it while they were drinking, that woman at the next table beautiful face was eating ice cream and blowing bubbles, but the ice cream was for her tongue and the bubbles were to entertain the child. My alter ego commented, “wow is she really blowing bubbles, is this a porno waiting to happen?” He continued staring at her, imagining some action when a boy approached the table. My alter ego recognized the boy, but not his hands, those had been concealed.

Across the pedestrian walkway was a mother, or some sort of creature. The kind that covers her head with a scarf she was, maybe a hijab but I don’t know the weird names those people have for handkerchiefs. Maybe a gypsy. She chose her marks and pointed to people sitting at the café. She had a son, maybe grandson, or just some poor boy she had captured, maybe five or six. The boy would go to those people and beg for spare change. Well he wouldn’t just beg, he would make moves on you. He would hug or even try to kiss you.

My alter ego’s friend, a tall, blonde metrosexual, got the worst of it. The boy, blondish and dirt covered, snuck up behind his chair and necked his nape. Meaning, he totally kissed his neck. We just hoped he would stop putting moves on us, so we froze hoping that if we didn’t move, he couldn’t see us. The waiters caught sight of him, the were familiar with him. His creature mom camped out in front of that café everyday, sending in her son/pawn in to beg. One of the waiters was spinning some sort of short half-whip/half-chain menacingly, as if asking his well-to-do guests for some spare change were a great offense.

One waiter managed to pinch the boy to get him to scramble away. Its always the peons that get the punishment. Upon returning to his creature mother, he was slapped. He was punished by those who thought him guilty and by the manipulator who made the other think he was guilty, kind of like in real-life government and business. His mother wouldn’t let him give up and once the waiters had come back inside in search of food and drinks for their masters, the creature mother sent the boy back out.

After the boy hugged and kissed my alter ego’s companions, he approached my alter ego. (My alter ego is just a good friend of mine, he likes to be referred as alter ego, not just in this blog but in real life as well, he clearly has self-confident issues) My alter ego quickly pulled out change and said “I’ll pay you not to touch me.” Of course, the boy didn’t speak any English and thought he was being asked for hugs and promptly embraced my alter-ego. My alter ego nudged the boy away while pinching a 50-cent piece as close to the edge as possible, so that when the boy grabbed it there wouldn’t be any skin contact between fingers, hopefully.

The woman next door disgusted looked over and commented in perfect English, “Maybe if he blew sexy bubbles you wouldn’t recoil from that poor boy.” She then called the waiter, paid him, and left. My alter ego watched the trim of her skirt dance around her lower thighs feeling the disdain from her gaze even as her back was turned. “He had dirty hands!” He shouted internally.

Then my alter ego thought about it and came out with better reactions than the one he chose. These are some reactions to a dirt-faced little boy hugging you and kissing your neck for change: (And yes, I’m not the only writer in this pity blog)

1/ Give him food (That would infuriate his creature mom who does not eat food but uses the money to buy whatever material she feeds off of)

2/ Go to one of the small stands on the street and purchase a toy puppy for him (Wouldn’t work. His mom would have eaten it)

3/ Join the waiters with little whips (Then form a posse, and push every beggar out of the streets and in to the hillsides)

4/ Recruit my own child and direct him to go beg from the creature mom (If she decided to use his child for protection by any chance, command my child to fight him in a death child’s battle, Pokémon’s way)

5/ Give the boy everything I have, be merciful and let him go on his way (No way that just encourages them)

6/ Adopt him and steal the creature’s livelihood (That’s sort of the story of my life)

7/ Become a pimp and take the boy to places where people would love to give him change for kisses (My Spanish cousin would have been the first in the line)

8/ Approach the creature mom, tear off her hijab and reveal her to the world like a disguised Men in Black alien (Then fuck her hard)

9/ Work with the government to start a center for street children (boooooooring)

10/ Use my hand cuffs to take the mendicant boy to my house and lock him in the basement with the other mendicants (The inconvenient of Kosovo is that is a really poor place and I’ll need a bigger basement pretty soon)