In the beginning of October, we had no gas for an entire week and for once it wasn’t because we’re poor people who don’t pay bills. It’s a complicated (and boring) explanation, but we share a gas line with the neighbors and a contractor came out to turn their gas back on but had to check our meter too and somehow came to the conclusion that our pipe was leaking gas and red-tagged us. This was on a Friday afternoon, right before I was leaving to go to work (late shift on Fridays). Henry happened to be home too because he was taking me to work that day, and he was the dumb ass who let the contractor in the house to begin with. If I had been there alone, no fucking way. No one enters this house. I’m too paranoid. Henry ended up having to come back home instead of going back to work because now he had to deal with gas company woes. The gas company was like “Haha, we’re not coming out. You need to call a plumber.” I was really confused because this shit is boring and weird to me. Like, just come back and make sure our house isn’t going to blow up and then give us gas, you know? But these things aren’t that easy, and then the landlord had to get involved since we needed a plumber, and he couldn’t get a plumber to come until THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY!!! Which meant that we had no hot water for that long. At first, I was being stubborn and was going to just take cold showers, but that only happened once because it turns out cold showers are kind of painful. So we had to go and take showers at Faygo Central because they have a shower there in case Henry or any of the other guys he works with need to shower before leaving work and meeting up with their mistresses DON’T DENY IT HENRY.
So that Wednesday came and the landlord brought over some plumbers who immediately were like, “Oh no, we can’t do this.” So then he had to get new plumbers! The new plumbers came over the next day and Henry had to stay home from work to, I don’t know, supervise I guess, and it’s a good thing because they totally fucked up. After digging up half of our yard, they determined there was no gas leak but before they called the gas company to give them the all-clear, THEY CUT THE GAS LINE which I just learned is apparently a huge no-no. So Henry is giving me a play-by-play via text and he’s all, “The gas company won’t touch the line now since it’s been cut and I know the plumbers did this on purpose” because it turned it from a something like a $1000 job to a $4000 job and guess what, our landlord apparently isn’t a moron and he saw right through this charade and THINGS GOT PHYSICAL AND HENRY THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO HAVE TO CALL THE POLICE! The landlord got the plumber’s boss on the phone and started screaming, “DID YOU KNOW YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO CUT THE LINE?! ANSWER ME!” and the gas company people, who had arrived at the scene by this point, were like, “Oh, these plumbers totally knew that” so the landlord was going ballistic and meanwhile, the plumbers’ boss told them to fill the hole and leave the work site and the landlord was all, “YOU AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL YOU FIX THIS MESS!” and Henry said there was A STRUGGLE OVER THE SHOVEL AND THEN OUR LANDLORD THREW A PALLET INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE YARD AT THEM! And here I was, sitting at work missing all of this action. Henry has a video of the landlord standing on the pallet after he threw it, and screaming, “I SAID STOP, GODDAMMIT!” while the plumbers are totally ignoring him and filling the hole back up. I begged Henry to give me the video but he said, “NO BECAUSE YOU’RE GOING TO PUT IT ON YOUR BLOG!” and I tried to say that was a ridiculous assumption but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get the words out.
Anyway, I guess the landlord threatened to sue because the same guys came back the next morning and luckily I was home since it was my late shift, so I got to watch some of the action and one of the plumbers was totally hot and I kept trying to take his picture but then idiot Henry came home and ruined my fun. We had gas again by that evening, thank god. Henry said he overheard the gas company guys talking and they actually called the contractor a retard and told Henry that he shouldn’t have let him in the house. So the moral of this story is don’t let shady gas company contractors into your house.
CONVERSATIONS ABOUT MY BACK
I used to play tennis like a fucking beast when I was in middle school and high school. It was the only thing that I have ever been good at, and I loved it so much that I actually quit eating when, god forbid, I was told that I was going to Spain for two weeks the summer of 1992 with my aunt, because I didn’t want to miss my tennis lessons. Honestly, spoiled white girl problems. (Aren’t you glad I’m a basic poor white bitch nowadays? I’m slightly less annoying now.) But when I was 16, I started to get really bad back pains, so bad that I couldn’t bend over to tie my shoes without crying out in pain. For awhile, I kept it to myself because I didn’t want to miss practice. But eventually it got so painful that I spoke up. Of course, my mom laughed at me because everything about me was a joke, but the coaches at the tennis club noticed something was going on and had me meet with one of the trainers, who stretched me out but it didn’t help. I kept saying it didn’t feel like a muscle, and my pappap was the only one who listened. So he took me to a real doctor where I had all kinds of x-rays or whatever done and it was determined that I have the spurs and discs of an elder. Nothing super serious, but surgery was an option that was tossed around. I said no because that seemed intense. So basically, I eventually had to quit playing tennis competitively because it hurt too much.
Through the years, I’ve thrown my back out here and there, but it always stops hurting after a few days. But recently, it has REALLY BEEN HURTING. Hurting so much that I haven’t been exercising as much as I normally would simply because it’s so painful. I can’t even sneeze. Literally, I have to stifle them or my back will feel like Jonny Craig’s ego was just dumped on it. This happened when I was in Wendy’s office once and she was like, “OMG what a pussy sneeze” while I was essentially weeping internally.
Henry has been all, “How’s that doctor visit sounding?” and I’m just like, “YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” because I’m stubborn and rarely go to the doctor. Then over the weekend, I gained 1.4 pounds and had a complete mental breakdown over it and spent an hour crying in my bed and wailing about being forever fat, and Henry was like, “It’s because your period is coming” and I was like, “STFU YOU DON’T KNOW ME!” But then the next day. my period came. I hate that he’s all up in my menstrual business, but thank god he is or else I would never have tampons in stock.
I’m off work today and decided that I really needed to exercise because I clearly have no sense. Henry called me later on and asked how my day was going.
“It was OK but then I did a kettelbell workout—”
“With your back hurting?! You’re a goddamn idiot.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to be fat!” I cried.
“Well, when you’re a cripple, I’m not pushing you in your wheelchair,” he sighed.
And now I’ll leave you with one of my favorite songs that always reminded me of Halloween when I was a kid, listening to Lite FM in my pappap’s kitchen.