If you are normal or if you know someone normal will you please send them my way? I can barely remember what it's like to interact with anybody normal!
Yesterday, (my 45th birthday) the moment I left my bldg. I saw my high neighbor in the backyard wailing incoherently into the sky. I walked up to York Road on my way to "Bagelo". There's that woman whose high on heroin. "Spare any change?" she asked without making any eye contact. After years and years of urban living I'm turning into an angrier person. I thought, how dare you ask ME for money. It's MY birthday, damn it! Anyhow, in this instance, I did not answer her.
I ordered my bagel and after the clerk gave it to me, I thanked her. The abusive manager yelled: "She better thank you!" He's been there for more than 3 years, and there's no one to report him to because he is a manager. That restaurant does give receipts with surveys on them, and I've taken the surveys but nothing ever changes. The main reason I do the surveys is because I get enrolled for a chance to win money. Initially I did the surveys because I hoped they would make a difference in customer service. But that's not true with Bagelo, or Walgreens. surveys (also on the receipts) You do get enrolled to win money, but service never improves.
A note was left in my door. "There is a 20% chance that HUD will inspect this apt. today" I think, most of the people in my bldg. have no idea what 20% means, and many of the people in my bldg. are functionally illiterate. As you know we get about 1 to 2 notes per day put in our door.
I think, what are they looking for? Are they looking for cleanliness? HUH! The contractors are still renovating our apts. They've been here every weekday for 8 weeks now. Everytime they are in our apt. they leave a huge mess for us to clean, I can barely keep up. They put in new kitchen tile, filthied it up, banged it up and damaged it, damaged the carpet and then left! And HUD is checking on how we live?! You see why I'm becoming angry don't you?
I saw my mentally retarded acquaintance in the bldg. He calls everyone "young lady" even if they are 80. I told him:
"It's my birthday!"
(Everybody calls him "Popeye")
Popeye-"No, it isn't your birthday, it's Jesus' birthday!" "And I'm 107!"
He left for the vending machine. The vendor said to him. "You're surrounded by women! But they're all black!"
I check the mail. My birthmother has sent me a b'day card. All interactions with her are stressful, even cards and letters. The birthday card says: "It's your birthday, hopefully you can find something to be happy about!"