so i’ve been feeding the guy still, he’s on the deck right now, sitting on the zero gravity lounger in fact. i just gave him some of our expensive wafers from the cheese boutiqe, two rosemary flavoured and two cracked pepper, he’s not a fan. (probably depressed the fern is gone)(if you want fern updates you’ll have to ask steph) i dragged cid out of the towel closet to see him. here are all the things i have experimented with feeding him:
tostitos (various styles)
rye crispbread crackers (so sick i just threw another one out there all crumbled up)
i’m sure other things. anyway remember i was confronted in the elevator by our psychotic paranoid neighbour (we saw them with ten 4L jugs of water on sunday nite getting into the elevator wtf? toronto tap water is ridiculously clean) about feeding the squirrel and how people want to cut down the tree now because of it – since then i have been praying for another confrontation. i bet they have surveillance on our deck every time the squirrel comes by for a snack. of COURSE you knew i was feeding it, why even ask me you passive aggressive slag? you cannot cut down an entire pine tree because of one squirrel.
we bumped into our landlord at the movie store earlier this week, she owns our unit, we get to chatting, she asks how the apartment is oh great we say, fil goes oh we love the neighbourhood and she (landlord) says WHAT? you love the neighbours!? i say NO WAY they’re kind of…crotchety. she says THEY ARE ALWAYS COMPLAINING.
i wanted to get down on my knees to fellate her on the spot because i feel like i am crazy, these nuts have been making me loony like, am i imagining things here or are they all a hive mind entity out to get me and my squirrel? and ten million other things. remember when i started working out and how all the exercise equipment began to disappear? or the ten million times i have been dissed to my face, shunned with stink eye, silent treatment, abrasive stand-offish cold hauty glares and then magical turn around when fil is by my side. fuck these people. just know the day we move out expect to be invited to the bender of the century.
anyway holy shit i am blogging about a fucking squirrel.
i saw my laundry nemesis yesterday and i initiated conversation with her and was nice and she made a slur about indian summer and indians haha, even though she used three washers for a handful of clothes we were cool. there was another old lady in there who was a cunt to me that i sing song said byeeeee to when i grabbed my clothes from the dryer and she grunted bye at me. why do old people get to live so long when they’re bitter wastes of space and cool people die young?