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Miss Peach

Like putting a good belt on a cheap dress

Squeeze Me Dry, Why Don't You?

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

My fucking landlord has fucking gone and raised the fucking rent by 9%.

Yes, 9%. One measly percentage point under 10.

I hope you understand why I fell the need to say fuck somewhat excessively.

That... well, that's a LOT. Also, my lease? Expires tomorrow. And my "property manager"? Won't return my calls. And I'm getting threatening calls from a woman named Carmen who says we have to make up our minds about the lease by tomorrow. She sounds scaaaarrrrrryyyy, too. Oh! And she called my mom so THAT made for a lovely afternoon surprise. (In Manhattan, you have to have a guarantor on your lease until you're, like, 40 and make eighteen times the annual rent or something obscene that I will never, ever acheive.)

Me: This is Miss Peach.
My Mom: DID YOU NOT SEND BACK YOUR LEASE?
Me: Whaaa? Mom? What are you talking about?
My Mom: Well, I just got a call from a Carmen... a Carmen... oh I don't know, but she said you didn't sign a lease and if you don't by tomorrow they're going to do something and WHY DIDN'T YOU SIGN THE LEASE?????????

Me, in mind to self: I cannot believe those motherfuckers called my mother but WILL NOT CALL ME BACK.

I'll save you the whole blow-by-blow, but basically we never got our renewal agreement, and then they called at 6PM on Friday August 18th about it, and we were all "you never sent it!" and they were all "we're faxing it now!" and then I got REALLY busy at work last week and totally forgot about it until Monday. Oops. So I finally picked it up and nearly fell over. And proceeded to call our property manager every three hours all week until today I lost it on the receptionist and in the end, we have no rights b/c it's not rent stabilized. Now, it takes 45-60 days to evict a tenant so we're cool until then, and in the meantime are scrambling to look at other places.

The bitch of it is: I like my apartment. It's fairly nice. We spent time fixing it up. It's got a good layout. Our stuff fits in well. It's quiet; it's not too far from everyone and everything, and is pretty much exactly the same distance from each of our places of work. I like the neighborhood. I like that my local bar (that I rarely walk into, I should note) is "Tap A Keg: A Hell of a Joint". No, no, it really IS named that.

And now I am going to have to move because my motherfucking landlord is a greedy motherfucker.

It's enough to make a girl want to leave the city.

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