“Angela, we have … to have you readmitted to the same mental institution you were subjected to by the San Diego Police Department last month.” https://t.co/LAAKGFyl8k
— Angela Marié Glass (@Ang) December 30, 2015
When I was dealing with the cops and they wanted to know why I didn’t feel safe at home, I responded “the devil slept in my bed”. Of course cops are far less imaginative than I am, and they took that to mean I was crazy. Thus I was taken away and locked up—and Curtis still runs free. Irony of life. See also, The Devil Slept in My Bed.
So I’ve kicked my former roommate out for being a world class do-nothing-all-day-stoner, and now have to deal with Curtiss Parker who find my apartment to be a mere extension of his own.
I would “scream him out of the house”, a drunkard who is drunk from the moment he gets up to the moment he apparently slips back under the rock from which he must have come (sorry Patricia, I’m not a fan of your son, he’s a world class creep—then again I imagine you’re not so proud of what he’s done to your family name either).
One of the instances is a lovely evening when I thought I was indeed alone in my apartment. I come out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and go to my bedroom. As I stepped over to my dresser, I dropped my towel on the bed and there, standing in all my naked beauty, I hear him coming.
He’s entered my home, and is approaching my mirrored bedroom. I start yelling at him to get out, and he—in an act?—drunkenly misunderstands.
On another occasion I was looking for a neighbor with a truck to help me pick up the mattress I purchased from Macy’s. John, Curtiss’ roommate was always a nice enough guy, and I had left a voicemail to see if he’d help me. Instead, my world-class awesome neighbor Aaron helped.
But I get home to find a disgusting used mattress circa 1980 which looks like it’s been pulled from the dumpster in my spare bedroom. He had entered my home while I was not there and put a used mattress in my home. I asked for help from one of the neighborhood kids and hoisted the disgusting thing back up to his door and blocked his door with it.
My landlord, Karen of Neptune Place, has done nothing to assist.
She sits as gossip queen passing on the latest of the slander I usually hear first from my neighbor informant. She believes everything. Whatever it is, obviously rejecting Curtiss wasn’t the greatest idea for my residency here. However, you’ve all noted that I’ve been being patient for quite a while. You see, I believe in people doing the right thing, and second chances.