In which I vent about the landlord who has done nothing for the building.

Dear Landlord:

Because you’ve dragged your feet on the leak over my apartment, I’ve developed a case of what is either black mold or mildew on my ceiling. While I was willing to attack this with a can of Killz brand antimold/antimildew thingy on my own, the fact that the ceiling itself has developed a bulge in two places, and gives when poked in another, is something that is more in YOUR wheelhouse. HOWEVER. It’s been almost half a year and you’ve done nothing. Which leads to this:

That’s my bathroom wall. An extreme closeup albeit, but the wall. Specifically, one of the wall tiles. You see how the stuff that sticks it on has rotted? You know how my bath doesn’t have a shower so it’s impossible for anything to get there? Yannou, except for that wrapping-around bulging pouf of paint that clearly indicates the pattern of leakage from the unit over mine? Well, THE FUCKING TILES are falling off now.


Frankly, you’re lucky anyone in this building pays rent, because this right here is some serious bull.

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Mini rant. Barely even a rant. More of a rantlet.


So, here’s a serious question.

How the FUCK does one deserve to get banned from a-called supportive group just for asking an honest question that doesn’t fall into your accepted binary? While I don’t intend on naming names of groups or places in the body of this post—why should I drive them traffic when they’ve defeated their purpose by banning someone honestly asking a question—it is a serious question.

OK. That’s out of my system now. I’ll buzz off and do something productive now.

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*click* *crrk* *KA-CRACK*

My knee is making interesting noises. As a precaution, I’m going to see my doctor (and if he gives me bullshit about my weight again I’m going to tell him that even dropping to only 1500 calories a day and working the job I do and working out, the weight just Will Not Fuck Off. …almost said ‘bugger off’ but here in America that’s considered tame—probably because no one learned its actual meaning, and this makes Nigella Lawson’s lament in last week’s episode of The Taste that much more interesting, as she was basically able to drop a Precision F Strike that didn’t even get noticed.)


I can tell it’s trying to do a thing because the day before yesterday, it woke me up—by sliding right the fuck out of joint. Cue Onion Knight-like howl of pain as my brain tries to parse what just happened so I can fix it. Even if we can’t DO anything about it, I do believe I can get a stronger painkiller. Kinda need it. I have lost all faith in this knee.


Which makes the fact that I’ve spent quite a bit of time on the other one in search of my Memory Stick even odder. (I’ve had some highly irritating days recently. I’d like to beat the fire out of some AIs, maybe improve my Kefka.)


I’ve also spent some time trying to click my brain back on so I can write. I’ve fallen into a bit of a slump and can’t eve focus straight. The good news is flipping my mattress so that the part that’s caving in is on the foot end did help a bit, but I still am going to need a new mattress very soon—it’s a tad crowded.


Heads up!


100 Things makes its official return on 2 February. Be ready for some STRANGE rambles, sometimes.


Got Noms?


I am going to begin working test kitchen operations again. Everything that I’ve cooked up is now going to be noted, recorded, and set up for repetition and refinement. I’ve also been introduced to one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen, Cooking With Dog, and its huge bank of recipes has inspired me to try actually doing something again. Who votes Valentine’s melonpan?

Computer trouble: Must…Prevent…FAIL!

That’s something that someone who is trying to make a living at this whole ink-slinging thing doesn’t need to hear/see. After having yet anouther instance of a total crash on my machine, I caved and got Memtest. …then I spent a day and a half waiting for a chance to figure out how to use it. After calling WTF at a friend of mine, we got the damn thing running. The scan was still going on when I left the hangout, but as I got meds ready and did some minor straightening up in the pantry, the scan finished.

The RAM is clean.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is that means the problem is unequivocally the hard drive.

I’m too hopped up on my medicine, mild sleep deprivation, and a Bob Marley soda to really have a stronger reaction than “Well, shit.” Luckily, there shouldn’t be TOO much of a problem–there’s a solution across town and all I have to do is to remember to get out there and get it done. Whoot.

…now to pray that nothing goes wrong before Nanowrimo begins.