salved! | 2002-01-09 - 9:05 p.m.

Gracias a Dios y a la santissima virgen, I am still living in this fleahole ratass apartment. I never thought I would be saying this. It smells like cat urine in the bedroom and the walls so flimsy you can hear los vecinos doing the dance of love two doors down, and if you squint real hard, you can practically see them through the walls. But the rent ain't high, and it beats living in a cardboard box under a freeway overpass. So how did I get out of the situation with the rent check, you ask? With quick thinking I convinced the hijo de puta (H.P. from now on for us *in the know*) to accept a money order this time around. It's like cash, I tell him. He looks all skeptical, as if I, la castigada, would try to put one over on him, but he waits for me to come back from the seven eleven with the money order, just the same. Duenos can't afford to be too picky about their tenants these days, especially when they run a shitty operation like Grumento Apartments, which, I kid you not, is the name of the apartment complex. There aren't many like me willing to put up with the broken steps on the stairwell and the stains in the ceiling, not in this yuppy town I live in.

pride and prejudice - 2004-09-07
wherein I become a Yahoo! Search Result - 2004-06-23
like 9-11 all over again - 2004-06-20
enough said - 2003-02-05
tirar por la calle de en medio - 2003-01-28

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