ciao ciao... i guess that i owe you an update on the whole 'apartment situation thingy' -
so, i wake up this morning and of course, on the day that i have to go meet with satan reincarnate, it's raining and gray and miserable in rome... how lovely, right? so i go visit a prospective replacement apartment and read and do stuff in the morning, as i don't have my apointment with satan until 3:45pm... i even make myself a yummy grilled ham and cheese sandwich and i think that this might actually be an 'ok' kind of day... how very very wrong i was... oh so very, very, very wrong.
3:15pm... brad and i meet at the bus stop [david has decided not to accompany us to satan's dark, damp, dusty lair today, as he believes that he will say something that might start the arguments back up, like 'well, screw you. i'll just go move back to arkansas...' and stuff to that effect - of course, all of this said with a very thick southern accent... just so you get the picture]. it's raining, we don't feel like walking - as the actual act of walking in the rain would be putting too much energy into this at the moment and neither of us want this woman [satan] to have the satisfaction that we've exerted ourselves for her... - and the bus just seems like an all-around good idea... again - wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong...
not only did we wait 40 bloody minutes for the blooming bus to come around, but the thing was so jam-packed full of people that i honestly started laughing at the realization that i was stuck in a space full of rude, bossy, smelly - let me emphasize the 'smelly' here: sssssmmmmmeeellllllllllllyyyyyy - bus-riders with no sense of personal space and without the sense to not climb on-board a bus that's already too full [i'd like to point out that when brad and i got on the bus, it was still a reasonable idea, as it wasn't bulging at the seams with people... however, those romans... they just keep acomin' and it doesn't matter if there's not any more space, they'll make some more space by god... it was kind of like one of those 'funniest home videos' kind of things where you see a bus so full that some poor fool in the back has been sandwiched between a stinky pretentious suit-wearing old fart and the greasy glass on the back of the bus so that his face ends of kind of smushed and contorted ... like that whole clown car phenomenon only without the colorful costumes...]
we get off of the bus about two stops early because neither of us can take the lack of oxygen or space any longer and i had just experienced being instructed on how to ride a public bus and where to stand properly by some ridiculously i've-got-my-head-up-my-own-ass kind of woman... oh, it was lovely, let me assure you.
so we high-step it to the shortlets office as we're already about 30 minutes late for our appointment ... we descend into satan's layer ... and then this whole bloody mess came to a head.... not only have the women who run this agency decided that it's fully acceptable to fabricate events and conversations [davide's lawyer received a fax from satan full of blatant - i mean BLATANT - fabrications... no, not just fabrictations, they were out-right LIES, in order to make herself and her evil little cohorts appear angelic and gracious and generous and to make brad, david and me look as if we are some gang of hooligans, taking advantage of the 'kindness that they have extended [us]'. what a crock of shit.]
anyway... now this woman - satan [have i mentioned lately that she really reminds me of satan inasmuch as her behavior, appearance, being, etc.? because if i haven't...] - decides that what she has lied about in the letter to the lawyer isn't quite enough... now they are fabricating emails from me to them saying that i 'changed my mind about wanting a 3-person flat and that all i really wanted was an apartment for one person' ... so, clearly, i ask to be shown this supposed email. ... at this point, they bullshit around the bush and fail to produce the email, stating that this email that they sent me explaining that the flat only featured one double bed [which, by the way, is ALL of the so-called 'amunition' that they have against me/us] was sufficient enough to prove that the email [which they had 'misplaced' or 'couldn't find'] about me wanting a flat for JUST myself really was sent to them... again... what a bloody crock.
oh, get this - when the women from shortlets were explaining the amount of the fine to me - 320 euros apiece for both david and brad, totalling 640 euros - one of the women [a completely snobby, maniacal, putrid toad] felt that i didn't understand the words 'three hundred, twenty euros' or 'six hundred, forty euros' and proceeded to show me the numbers on a piece of paper and to double check that i understood the concept of 320 and 640. what a bitch. arrrrrrrrgh. - have you ever had someone make you so aggravated, insult you and your nature and your intelligence so much that it makes you want to a] throw up all over them, and/or b] slap them straight in the teeth? ‘cause that's exactly how this team of loathsome, foul creatures has made me feel. ...
anyway... we were getting nowhere with this witch and she insisted on treating bradley and me like ignorant, uneducated, irresponsible children, so we decided to 'think it over' for one more night and told her that we'd get back to her tomorrow. ... i basically feel completely hopeless, drained. it has been a terrible day - a terrible sequence of days, actually, since this whole mess began. i'm just ready to get this whole thing over with. i never want to muddy myself with the presence of those women EVER again. they just make me feel dirty... like i need a really long bath with lots and lots of soap. and a BIG glass of beer. that's exactly what i'd like right now. a nice, cold, wonderfully amber glass of beer. right now. it just might cheer me up a little.
actually, i'll tell you what… i'm going to run to sloppy sam's [or just sam's] and get myself a nice, big cold one [as i think that i need/deserve one right now]. kay? i guess that i'll check you folks later. have a wonderful evening/morning/day - i guess it just depends on where you are - whatever you're doing.
damn the man, save the empire!