Things You Need To Know Before Moving

Unpacked moving boxes in Living Room

If you follow this blog, or did when I was still posting on a regular basis, you know that I just moved. By “just” I mean like two months ago because I’m a piece of shit who can’t get her procrastinating ass off of 9GAG when she gets home from work…

Over the years I’ve moved plenty of times, including out of my parent’s house, but this was the first time I really changed residence as a full fledged, self assured, responsibility laden, adult.

I went into this technically a moving virgin. Sure I’d fooled around before, I’d moved my bedroom and signed a lease once before, but this was the first time I’d experienced full relocation penetration. As a result of my relative innocence on the matter there was a lot of fumbling, some mistakes, and in the end I felt dirty, used, and butt-hurt. My hope today is that by sharing my shitty experience I can prepare you dear reader and help you side step some of the sticky messes I found myself wading through. Just relax, it’ll all be over sooner than you think.

Finding Your New Place Is a Combination Of Timing and Luck.

Interpreting2

Before you can move I think it goes without saying that you need a place to move to. Finding that perfect little love nest, man cave, or lady lair, is nothing if not time sensitive. There is something of a sweet spot during the month for landing a pad and that is the first week of the month. If open residencies had a menstrual cycle the first week of the month would be their ovulation. Though it’s possible to lock down your new digs at anytime your chances are best then. This is because that’s when new postings go up and landlords want to fill open vacancies ASAP so the longer you wait the fewer properties are available. If you see an ad you like you have to jump on that shit right away before someone else does. If you have the option to call, then call, they’ll get it before they see an email and more often than not if there are multiple interested parties landlords/ladies tend to work on a first come, first serve basis.

Don’t get discouraged. You can spend hours out of everyday driving around neighbourhoods, and scourging kijiji and still come up with nothing only to find the perfect place through a post your friend stumbled across while absently perusing the ‘man seeking man for light petting’ ads on craigslist. In the end it all boils down to luck and good timing. Fortunately those are two things I have seeping out of my every orifice.

My friend (the only one) had also been looking for a new apartment at the same time as me and managed to steal the top suite of a house in a nice neighbourhood from an elderly couple who we can only presume are now being a burden on their children or living in a care home where their jewellery has started to mysteriously disappear. When my friend was maliciously tossing a pair of senior citizens, who may very well have fought Nazis, onto the street she learned that the downstairs suite was also available. And so, my roommate and I found our new home and this upper-middle class family neighbourhood gained a house of young, poor, foul mouthed, borderline alcoholics instead of a sweet little old couple and their one eyed rescue cat with feline diabetes who bring home made pies to block parties, and sponsor a nigerian orphan with HIV. For the record, I sleep just fine.

Giving Your Notice

Turns out letting your current overlord/lady/corporation know you’re leaving is a little more complicated than you’d think.

You are legally obligated to give you’re month’s notice by the last day of the prior month if you don’t want to be on the hook for another month’s rent. So, if you were moving out for August you would have to give your one month’s notice by the 30th of June. My roommate and I initially wanted to move out for May 1st but when we tried to give our notice on April 1st were told “tough titties” or some variant of. Who can remember exact phrasing? We were a day late and if we were to hand in a formal notice we would be expected to pay for May’s rent if they couldn’t find someone else to take our apartment for May. We decided to wait knowing that if we ended up stuck in a situation where we had to pay rent for two places we wouldn’t be able to afford it. Waiting to give our notice also meant we had to pass on the place we had looked at earlier that day despite it being perfect because they wanted the place filled for May.

This is were the problem lies. As discussed previously, home owners want to fill vacant spaces ASAP so they want you moved in for the start of the next month whether you checked the place out on the 1st or the 28th. No one is showing a place in April for a tenant to move in for June because that’s a whole month of an available space sitting empty not collecting rent. This means you are giving your months notice before you know for sure if you’ll even have a place to live for the next month.

The shittiest part of giving your notice is that you have to be out of there with all your stuff by the last day of the month, so if we decided to say “fuck it” and gave our notice on the 1st of April to be out for May and the didn’t find someone to take our apartment with it’s broken kitchen light, live in mice, and whole in the shower wall, for the beginning of May we’d be paying our slum lord rent for may but wouldn’t be able to stay there that month when it inevitably came to pass that we couldn’t afford to pay rent for our new place as well. We’d essentially be paying our old landlord to be homeless.

Getting Back You’re Damage Deposit.

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The more observationally astute among you may have noticed that last entry I mentioned a dead kitchen light fixture, mice, and a breach in the structural integrity of my shower. Let the record state that none of that was through any fault on the part of myself or my roommate. Turns out the property company that owns my old building wasn’t so big on holding up their end of our tendency agreement. Specifically the part that stated that they are responsible for performing regular maintenance and upholding the living standards of the complex.

We were living in an old apartment complex which generally means the building in inclined to fall victim to the ravishes of time. This property company at some point decided that they were immune to the effects of normal wear and tear and therefore were not obligated to check up on these such as the decay and disintegration of whatever water proof sealing that was applied to my shower wall 60 years ago when the building was first erected. The hole in my shower wall wasn’t so much a hole as it was a caving in of the tiles into the weak, water damaged wall. For the two months between when the tiles shifted and were sucked into the cavernous decay that is that wall and the day we moved out we had unsuccessfully managed to get the company to send so much as a handyman to even look at my shower in spite constant nagging whenever either of us bumped into our building manager, and a formal written request. I essentially spent two months bathing in the bathroom from Saw. Come to think of it a bloodied corpse might have cheered the place up a little.

sawbathroom
Pictured: A wall more structurally sound than my actual wall.

They also never sent an electrician to look at the kitchen light that stopped working way back in January that clearly needed more that a $75 dollar lightbulb change or anyone with pest control to take care of the bastard mice that came back for the second spring in a row.

Our apartment was in such a state of ruin that when I wrote our formal notice I sited “the deteriorating state of our apartment” as our reason for leaving and their “failure to rectify the situation” as why we expected the return of our damage deposit in full.

When we had a walk through from some dick-bag  from the company’s office two weeks before our move day, the first time anyone so much as looked at any of the places maladies, we were informed that they wanted to charge us for the state of the bathroom wall. Shit-Stain Von Douche-Nugget’s reason for why the ravishes of time was our fault was that nothing was noted on the assessment sheet that was filled out on the day we first moved in two years ago. Upon hearing this we were given lots of advice on how to deal with our bullshit situation and as per my father’s direction almost decided not bother having the curtains or carpets cleaned (as is your responsibility when moving out) or doing any sort of cleaning at all especially when our building manager told us we were expected to paint as well.

I decided to make my second call to the B.C. Tenancy Board in two months to ask advice from one of their reps. The lovely lady over the phone with the warm, motherly voice told me a few things I’m going to pass along to you.

1. As long as your walls are clean without any major damage, or holes larger than those used to hang picture frames, you are under no obligation to paint unless you have perviously painted the walls another colour.

2. You do have the option to appeal to the tenancy board in the event that your landlord does try to unjustly keep your damage deposit. They will investigate on your behalf.

3. You are obligated to have curtains and carpets professionally cleaned and the cost of doing so can be taken out of your damage deposit so it’s best to get it done so that if a dispute does occur you can maintain that you did everything to uphold your side of your tenancy agreement.

4. Slum Lords love to take advantage of first time renters. They don’t know what signs and issues to look for when you first move in or what they are legally allowed to ask from you when you move out and they will try to exploit that. Especially young people and most especially young women. The best thing you can do is educate yourself and if what your landlord is telling you doesn’t quite add up, you can always call the Tenancy Board for information.

In the end our building manager cut us a bit of a break. As it turns out his own apartment down the hall from ours was also plagued with all kinds of problems that even he couldn’t get them to fix. He said he’d only charge us $100 for the shower and give us back the remaining $425. It came down to either eating the $100 dollars that we shouldn’t of had to pay in the first place and moving on with our lives, or spending $50 and months of our time filing a dispute. In the end we decided to just cut our losses and be done with it all. I’d be lying if I said write about this even two months later didn’t still make me want to punch that shower tile into soggy, mouldy, confetti.

Learning From Past Mistakes

For-Rent-Yard-Sign

It wasn’t until we were in danger of losing our damage deposit that we found ourself looking at online reviews from previous tenants from our building and other’s the company owned. We were unsurprised to find our story was nothing new or original. There were all kinds of tales of out of control bedbug populations, an assortment of plumbing related issues, and shoddy repair jobs involving duct tape. When we went in to look at the place we were pushed into signing the lease so quickly we didn’t have time to even think of doing any research on our new home.

This time was different. We actively decided we never wanted to deal with another absentee company again. We needed to be able to meet the person managing our home face to face and to have a direct number where we could contact them so we wouldn’t keep getting the round about. This time we knew what questions to ask and what to look for and we even had a point of reference from my friend living in the upstair suite. My friend assured me that when they moved in they had trouble with their washer and our landlady was there within a few hours to check it out and have a repairman in within the week. The people who own the house were a young couple who genuinely cared about the place and were easily approachable.

We really did hit the jackpot though. We did end up in that perfect place we had to pass on. Our Landlady liked us so much that in the end she actually DID hold it till June. They were so set on having the right tenants that a week after I told her we would have to pass she texted me to tell me that she hadn’t found anyone else she liked and if we still wanted it for June it was ours. Plus it definitely doesn’t hurt that her husband is in politics. If they were crappy land lords they couldn’t afford to have that getting around.

Movie Titles To Describe Your Period

0701I got my period yesterday. That makes today the second day of my menstrual cycle and all the ladies know that makes today pretty much the sorest, messiest, day of the month. I have cramps so bad my back joined in. Everything hurts so bad guys.

Unfortunately I couldn’t spend my dreaded second day lying on my couch, eating junk food, scrolling 9gag, and watching slasher flicks because I to work today. It sucked balls. In order to get through my shift and the cramps I did what I always do in an unpleasant situation: I coped by making inappropriate jokes. While going about my menial tasks I distracted from the pain by thinking of movie titles to describe my period and spammed my roommates inbox with what I managed to come up with. Here is the compiled list.
Crimson Tide

Blood And Chocolate

In Cold Blood

Slaughter House Five

Misery

There Will Be Blood

The Crying Game

The Sting

Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows

Les Miserables

Touch Of Evil

The Woman In Red

The Box Trolls

127 Hours

Scent of A Woman

The Blob

The Cotton Club

If anyone can come up with anything good/better I would love to hear them in the comments. It will help get me through the rest of the week.

I’ll do my best to write a proper post in the next couple days but until then, I hope this is an acceptable appetizer.

3 Uncomfortable Christmas Songs

It’s December 24th which means you’ve been bombarded with Christmas music for at least the last 24 days and therefore are about ready to hang yourself on your neighbour’s christmas lights. I swear If I have to listen to Jingle Bell rock one more time I’m going to start calling in bomb threats. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep it in the spirit of Christmas. There has to be a way to make a bomb using old decorations. You can make a bomb out of anything.

You'll be picking up tinsel for weeks.
You’ll be picking up tinsel for weeks.

As I work in retail, as I’m sure many of you do, I have no choice but to listen to the same ten tunes performed by five different pop starts on repeat for 8 hours a day. It’s all enough to make me glad that last christmas when Taylor Swift gave her man her heart “the very next day he threw it away”, because fuck that song. The only thing I’ve gained from the last three weeks of musical sleigh rides and halls being decked with poisonous plants is an idea of how prisoners stuck in Guantanamo Bay feel and a realization that a lot of the songs clogging the air ways this time of year are actually pretty creepy when you actually take a second to ask yourself: what the fuck did I just hear?

‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ –  Date Rape Delights Generations.

I’m hardly the first person to point out how creep this holiday favourite is but I’m always taken aback when I first hear it every winter. The whole premise of the song is that a man has invited his date back to his place and he’ll be damned if he lets her walk out that door before he gets to plow her driveway if you know what I mean. For the sake of her health of course.

What starts out as playful banter that might have very well been the woman playing hard to get soon turns into something far more sinister. Originally written by Broadway composer Frank Loesser the song was supposedly meant to be flirtation between a couple who’s desires to pork long into the night are stinted by the worry of what people will say. This interpretation is undermined by the scores earliest casting of the duet’s roles as ‘Wolf’ and ‘Mouse’. Baby It’s Cold Outside isn’t a playful conversation lightly examining sexual repression but the recordings of a sexual predator talking circles around his intended victim.

The Mouse repeatedly voices her decision to leave while the wolf makes excuses to keep her there or flat out ignores her protests in favour of paying her creepy compliments. All assumably while pressing his erect penis into her back as she tries to shrug her coat on. She occasionally does imply that she’d like to stay but always brings it back to the “buuuut… I gotta go” likely for the same reason most girls don’t just tell a stranger to fuck off after telling him for the seventh time, “no you cannot have my phone number”. She doesn’t know this guy well enough to gage whether telling him to piss off because she’s not going to fuck him will end with her body rolled up in a rug in the trunk of his car.

Well, that escalated quickly.
Well, that escalated quickly.

I really can’t stay – Baby it’s cold outside
I’ve got to go away – Baby it’s cold outside
This evening has been – Been hoping that you’d drop in
So very nice – I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice
My mother will start to worry – Beautiful, what’s your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor – Listen to the fireplace roar

Pretty innocent so far. Although, one does have to wonder how old this girl is if she still lives with her parents. This song was written before 20’s were being crushed under the weight of student loans after all.

The neighbours might think – Baby, it’s bad out there
Say, what’s in this drink – No cabs to be had out there
I wish I knew how – Your eyes are like starlight now
To break this spell – I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell
I ought to say no, no, no, sir – Mind if I move a little closer

Aaaaannnnd he’s spiked her drink. At worst he’s roofied her. At best he’s plying her up with liquor she never asked for. He ignored her question completely and instead tries to “move a little closer”. On another note ladies and gentlemen, here’s a big red flag that you’re date might not be the most savoury of sorts: cabs refuse to come to their house. Also he uses the word ‘swell’.

I simply must go – Baby, it’s cold outside
The answer is no – Ooh baby, it’s cold outside
This welcome has been – I’m lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm — Look out the window at that storm
My sister will be suspicious – Man, your lips look so delicious

“The answer is no” is a pretty forceful way to say that she does not consent. She’s uncomfortable, irritated, and probably scared as shit. Telling a person “man, your lips look delicious” has to be one of the worst ways to quell someones fears that you might rape them.

There’s bound to be talk tomorrow – Making my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied – If you caught pneumonia and died
I really can’t stay – Get over that old out Ahh, but it’s cold outside

This last verse is some mastery of subtlety on both sides. She warns him that there will “be talk tomorrow”, from her most likely to the authorities, to which he responds with a threat of her dying of pneumonia after he’s had his way with her and tosses her outside into the snow where no one will find her.

‘Santa Baby’ – Eartha Kit Wants The D for Christmas

Is no one else thrown off by hearing Santa Claus called “baby”? It’s weird isn’t it? Who in their night mind decides that a jolly old man who commits mass, annual, B&Es is the kind of guy that you should call “baby”? I don’t think even think Mrs. Claus calls Santa “baby”.

It’s more than just the uses of the traditionally romantic pet name “baby”. The whole song reads like a sting of innuendo. You’re supposed to leave Santa milk and cookies, maybe some carrots for the reindeer, not double entendres.

Santa Baby, slip a sable under the tree, For me.
Been an awful good girl,
Santa baby,
so hurry down the chimney tonight.

I could pretend that that was perfectly innocent were it not for the flirty vocal stylings and of Eartha Kit. There’s something fundamentally wrong about sexualizing Saint Nicholas. For one thing he’s a Saint and the catholics are pretty notoriously anti-sex and anti-fun. For another, if I were to make a list of beloved childhood figures that I never want to see tainted by rule 34 the top three would be: Santa Claus, Lunette The Clown, and the entire Wizarding World from Harry Potter. Understandably this is why I avoid most forms of fan fiction.

"If they don't have sex than how do wizards have babies?" "Magic. Obviously."
“If they don’t have sex than how do wizards have babies?” “Magic. Obviously.”

Santa baby, a 54 convertible too, Light blue.
I’ll wait up for you dear,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

So that’s her game. She’s trying to seduce old Kris Kringle into bringing her outlandishly expensive goods instead of toys this christmas.

Think of all the fun I’ve missed,
Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed,
Next year I could be just as good,
If you’ll check off my Christmas list,

Are they lovers? Has she been saving herself for Santa Claus? Why the hell else would he care how many boys she’s “kissed” this year? Santa seems like a pretty fair and progressive guy. There’s no way he participates in slut shaming.

Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex,
And checks. Sign your ‘X’ on the line,
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight. Cutie? Cutie!

Santa Claus is an old (read: ancient) man with a belly that shakes like a great bowl of jelly, a bushy, white beard, and no fashion sense. Then man can be described as festive or whimsical. Never cute. She is really piling it on here.

Come and trim my Christmas tree,
With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s,
I really do believe in you,
Let’s see if you believe in me,

Have you no pride woman? You’re digging for gold with Santa Claus.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, A ring.
I don’t mean on the phone,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight,

And that last request is were she learned the tough lesson that many mistresses before and after her have had to accept. The married man you’re fucking will probably never leave his wife for you no matter how often he insists he’ll end his marriage and run away with you. He has elves to think of.

‘I’m Getting Nuttin’ For Christmas’ – Chronicles The Early Years Of A Serial Killer

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TND56ejLAUU

I’m not sure what the original intent was for this tune. It was either meant to be an ode to the naughty list or a way for passive aggressive parents to threaten Santa wont come if their kids don’t stop being little shits. Whatever the initial basis was supposed to be it was surely written from the mad recordings of some severely disturbed murder’s therapy sessions.

I broke my bat on Johnny’s head;
Somebody snitched on me.

Hitting the ground there eh kid? The little bastard broke a bat over someone’s head. Breaking a bat is no easy feat seeing as bats are meant to hit balls hurling towards people twenty miles an hour. Most adults couldn’t break a bat. In order for a child to go Hulk like that he’d have spent weeks or months preparing his batters arm.

I hid a frog in sister’s bed;
Somebody snitched on me.
I spilled some ink on Mommy’s rug;
I made Tommy eat a bug;
Bought some gum with a penny slug;
Somebody snitched on me.

There’s our mandatory tortures animals criteria met. Of course making other children eat bugs shows he’s moved on to human torture. I did have to look up “penny slug” and it turns out our future psycho is also involved in counterfeit money operations. At least he’s not a one trick criminal I guess.

I put a tack on teacher’s chair
Somebody snitched on me.
I tied a knot in Susie’s hair
Somebody snitched on me.

I like how he thinks his biggest problem is that “somebody snitched” on him. This kid feels no remorse.

The narrator is little Leigh Emersion isn't it?
The narrator is little Leigh Emerson isn’t it?

I did a dance on Mommy’s plants
Climbed a tree and tore my pants
Filled the sugar bowl with ants
Somebody snitched on me.

So this just a signed confession of all the shitty things this kid has done this year. He obviously took gleeful delight in dancing on his mother’s garden or why else would he have done it. It was probably as close as he could get to dancing on her grave seeing how she’s still alive. How he thinks accidentally tearing his pants is as bad as filling a sugar bowl with ants (probably of the fire variety) is beyond me.

I won’t be seeing Santa Claus;
Somebody snitched on me.
He won’t come visit me because
Somebody snitched on me.
Next year I’ll be going straight;
Next year I’ll be good,
Just wait
I’d start now, but it’s too late;
Somebody snitched on me.

He clearly doesn’t understand how Santa works if he thinks someone needed to tell Santa what a raging sociopath he’s been this year. And he’s still got until the end of the month to ruin everyones personal property and feeling of security before he starts his New Years resolution.

Wait a second. Is it just me or does it sound an awful lot like this child is plotting revenge on Santa? He’s gonna be good all year to lure him into his home so he can extract sweet, sweet, bloody vengeance. You just know he’s gonna be asking for a new baseball bat for Christmas.