Second-person

So your Pakistani friends cancel on you. It's alright, because they've had a really long day. But you're not content to stay home another night, so you make plans to do the one thing that you said you wouldn't. And you get to the club before your friends, and grab a drink by yourself. And your friends show up, and you all get really drunk. But who's that with them? You haven't seen her in over a year, and you're feeling the alcohol. You don't know how to react, so you try to avoid her. But she's looking right at you, and you decide to talk to her. And you pretend to be nice to her; but you aren't really pretending, are you? So you think it'll be a gas to get a picture of her and her friends, but she wants a picture with you. And she starts dancing on you, and she looks so good: maybe even better than when you were with her (is that even possible?) And you love the attention, so you start flirting with her. And now you're on the dance floor, and she tells you that she still has feelings for you. But you can't tell her you miss her. You just can't. But you ask her for a friendly kiss on the lips, and she actually gives it to you - almost like the first time you met her. And you promise to send her the pictures the next day.

But the whole time, you're asking yourself "Why? Why is this happening? Why now?" You didn't expect to see her at this club of all places. And she even told you herself, that she doesn't go out that much anymore. And you try talking to your friends, but you're sure that they're sick of hearing your whining. So you get home, but you're almost afraid to go to bed. So you smoke a cigar. A cigar! You don't even like smoking, and those stupid cigars have just been sitting around for months. And you finally go to bed, but you can't sleep. So you get up and send her the stupid pictures. Did it help? It doesn't feel like it, but you manage to sleep. But you still think about her, just when you thought you were over her...

Moving day

So almost six weeks after they pick up his furniture, the mover calls my roommate to ask him where he is. Wtf? It turns out the trucks in Dallas, but the mover just says "I'll be there in a couple hours." Uh-huh.

So the next day he calls again asking for the address. After being told about four times, he gets it and shows up. Now he refuses to go through the front gate. Of course, it's now Sunday and the apartment office just began a policy of being closed on Sunday. So, we can't open the side gate; also, security doesn't arrive until 5:00pm. So the mover actually starts to drive off, complaining about how we had wasted 3 hours of his time? I'm not sure where he got that from, not to mention how he's contractually obligated to provide a shuttle in the event that the truck won't fit through the gate.

Well, we're not about to let him just leave with all that furniture after this long. So my other roommate actually has to get a tape measure and prove to the driver that his truck will fit through the front gate. So he comes through, with 16 inches of clearance. Asshole.

Now he comes to our apartment, and he's like, "There's three flights of stairs?" Yes, dipshit, did you think the apartment was going to be on the ground floor? Not likely. Well, it turns out that the driver is the only guy there. I'm not making this up, this jackass is planning on moving a bed, a desk, and a two-piece couch all by himself. Also, the couch is a sleeper.

Well, at this point he realizes that he's made a huge mistake and tries to make a run for it. I'm not even exaggerating - he literally jumps in his truck and tries to drive off. Now we run to the front of the complex and physically detain his truck. Is this really happening? I'm not sure, maybe I'm just delirious from the heat.

So for an hour, we stand at this impasse - he won't turn around, or even shut his engine down. We won't move from the front of his truck. He honked at us a couple times, and even shifted his truck out of park and started to roll forward, but we still didn't move. He also called his manager and said that we were making fun of him (what?), and called the cops and told them that "a bunch of crazy kids are in front of my truck." (Keep in mind that the average age of these "kids" is thirty). When my roommmate calls the manager, the prick has the nerve to say "You're just a kid, you don't know what it's like to work." Yes, you're the only person in the world who understands work.

So finally my other roommate finds out that the driver is Palestinian, and Muslim. And he literally says to the guy, "Praise be to Allah." This pacifies him enough that he agrees to move the furniture, although he insists that we pay him up front. And he charges us an extra $200 for the stairs. W/e, at this point we really just want the furniture.

Well now we have to all quietly sit around (remember that we're not allowed to laugh) while this this horrible person moves our furniture up. The move was still pretty nail-biting at this point, as he chose to move the couch last. The whole time I was convinced that he was just putting it off, because he knew he couldn't do it. Anytime he dissappeared for 10 minutes, I was sure he had bolted. I was honestly impressed when he managed to get everything upstairs, while we all just sat on our asses and watched him. The only thing we gave him was that we assembled the bed, mostly because we didn't trust him to do it.