Papa Roach

We’ve been having great fun with prank calls to our landlord! Well, actually, I think we might be the ones getting pranked.

“Excuse me, the dryer isnt working.”
We’ll send someone.

“The guy came and said that I was washing things and he’d come back in an hour.”
How long ago was that?
“Yesterday.”

“He came again.”
Yeah? Did he fix it?
“No. He cant move it by himself. The guys who came to fix the dishwasher were supposed to move it for him.”
Did they?
“No. They said they could, but seeing as we have no idea when he’s coming back, and I like to be able to get into the bedroom, I thought it would be better not to put heavy machinery in front of the door.”
Man, you’re picky!

Needless to say, our dryer still needs some work. We DO, however, have a brand!new!dishwasher! Which is nice, because I see no point in using a dishwasher where you have to prewash AND postwash after using it. Seems a little silly.

When they came to install the new one, they needed to get to the circuit box, which we couldnt help them with. The circuit box is in the garage, which we dont have access to, because guy-who-used-to-live-here, who fell off a ladder or something, has his stuff stored there. So, we called the landlord again, and they sent someone out to open it, and we shamelessly went downstairs to see guy’s stuff (2 non running cars. boxes. junk.) while dishwasher guy was messing with circuits.

“Man.” Said landlord minion. “I think we need to report the roach problem.”

There were hundreds of the nasty things. Hanging out underneath my house. Chillling on my front steps. STOPPING BY TO BORROW A CUP OF SUGAR.

I guess they decided that just wasnt near enough.

I was loading the brand new dishwasher. I was rinsing things in the sink when I saw it.

There. In the bottom of one of my bowls, which I may never be able to use again. THE QUEEN MAMA OF ALL ROACHES. Doing her best Ophelia impression in an inch of water.

I MAY NEVER EAT AGAIN.

From a bowl, anyway.