Pussy

Uh huh. Haley and I purchased this fine little piece of retro craftsmanship from Amazon.com. We figured that while universe is content to provide us with 48 degree weather and May, we'll forgo an air conditioner until exactly what fucking season we are in gets sorted out. I found a nice little spot for the fan (made by Hunter) right next to my window. Imagine my surprise when I woke up later that night to a strange sound and a rather disturbing sight: blue sparks shooting out from the back of the fan.

What made this even scarier was that the fan was placed in front of the window that leads to the fire escape. I know it's just a little fan and I'm blowing this somewhat out of proportion, but you never know. The fuckers at Hunter are going to get a letter or something to that effect.

Since Haley is away for the first time in ages this weekend, I decided to reacquaint myself with shitty horror movies on In Demand. Quarantine is fitting the bill quite nicely.

Around an hour ago, I heard some glass shatter and immediately, a chorus of windows in the courtyard opened up and all eyes were upon a drunken Irishman. One tenant began to chastise the man, to which drunken Irishman responded in a whiskey affected brogue, "I live here, ye pussy!" Nice!!! Let's call the people who are trying to sleep and aren't drunk "pussies" and mimic your neighborly invectives. You give Lucky Charms a bad name, sir.

When the cops showed up, they launched into a comical Keystone routine, investigating the ground in the courtyard adjacent to ours. "Pussy" yelled out to the cops from his apartment, directing them to the location of the shattered glass. There must have been 12 cops in the courtyard. I heard one of the cops say that a tenant told him that the drunken Irishman was actually our super.