Wednesday, September 14, 2005

And then, of course...

So, to extend a particularly belabored metaphor: If yesterday afternoon I was the drugged and weepy sixties mom bracing a bag of Chef Boyardee cans against her polyester thigh, then yesterday evening I was the same mom, only full fledged blubbering with a half-lit cigarette hanging out of my mouth, watching as a Malibu squashed one of my fallen cans of lasagna as it rolled away in the parking lot, blowing my nose into the pieces of the brown bag still hanging in my hands.

That's right. I will ride this metaphor like a motherfucking pony.

Brad and I no longer have an apartment. Despite my signing larger checks than I have ever written in my life over to the landlord and the real estate agent, we don't have an apartment. Oops. Weird. The landlords "gave it to another couple," the agent said in the message she left on my phone after getting my number from Brad, because she "lost it."

She had my application. She had my checks. She had my number. In. Her. Phone.

She called to say that, weird, the landlords were "assholes," and despite the fact that she argued for me and "my boyfriend," the landlords had already signed a lease with "another couple."

I'm either psychic or just used to my bad luck, because I knew something was going to happen. Either way, I'm cursed for sure. By the time I got home (and my neighbor with the realtor sister-in-law was already making shrill and urgent phone calls to every person in Greenpoint), Brad was considering how I could possibly dodge the cartoon-style cloud that hovers over my stupid head. Especially right around my birthday.

Any ideas? Brick dust? Chicken feet? Invite Fairuza Balk to bind my picture with some craft supplies? Anyone? Best curse breaking idea gets my heartfelt attempt and possible photo documentation, provided it doesn't involve any running naked under the moonlight. Or any naked at all.

Or, for that matter, running.

8 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

7:14 PM  
Anonymous Stupid Boy said...

Noooooo! That's realy unfair! I had figured that living with Brad would give you the worlds most bloggable life. Keep trying , something gotta work out.

And Happy Birthday! It's Thursday here already.

Couldn't we lift the curse by four of us getting together and invoking the points of a compass or whatever it was they did in The Craft? And butterflies!

3:23 AM  
Anonymous mombi said...

Happy Cursed Birthday, Kathy.

You must stay at least 10' away from all electronics. Especially Brad's new phone. Actually though, your curse seems to know no boundaries. You fried his last phone from 500 miles away.

I probably could have lifted the curse back when I was a witch in high school.

Ask Brad to invoke Raven's supernatural powers... she's still a witch.

7:12 AM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Thanks everyone.

Maybe we could get an intercontinental faux-witch tribunal together right here in the comments section.

HAIL TO THE GUARDIANS OF THE WATCHTOWER OF THE NORTH! RELEASE MY CURSED BIRTHDAY WITH ALL THE POWER OF MANO!

10:17 AM  
Blogger DMo said...

That is some shit.

I thought you were milking the birthday curse thing when you first mentioned it a while back, but now, I believe. I believe.

Happy birthday. Here's hoping that some sticks a rusty nail through the landlord's right eye. While he is sitting on the toilet.

1:04 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Yesss...thanks for giving "someone" a really good idea.

Thanks, and be careful: the curse travels. Avoid heavy traffic and dangling safes and pianos today.

1:15 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

that sucks, but Greenpoint isn't so great...
you should check out washington heights. its cheap and you could tell people you live in manhattan and it would be mostly true.
oh, and happy birthday.

9:51 AM  
Anonymous brad said...

we looked at other places and we really like greenpoint.

12:43 PM  

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