Oh, Yeah????

Everyone who said I couldn’t meet a man by staying inside my apartment, I’d like you to pay me $10. Please feel free to send it to my email address via paypal.

I came home today to find not one, but two gentlemen inside my apartment. That’s right—they were already here. I didn’t even have to go out and bring them back. They were already here waiting for me.

Sure, that could sound creepy and dangerous—sort of like a home invasion, but they were clearly fans. In fact, I’m pretty sure one of them asked me where he could get one of my lovely products (click here for lovely products).

Fine, they were actually here because the pipe burst, and the management company thought that water flooding the downstairs apartment might be a bad thing. Whatever. I think it’s so obvious that they were fans. They even asked me for an autograph… on their work order, but that’s just because it is all they had on hand. And I totally personalized it with “thanks for all of your support” which will undoubtedly make an impression when they read it J

I don’t want to seem ungrateful in any way for the universe sending me men, but if it could give me some warning next time that would be lovely. You never know when I might have access to the lethal spork/chair combo, and I don’t really love surprises. We narrowly avoided a minor, yet completely defensible, sporking when I walked in the door to hear people in my apartment. Apparently no one saw the “Fortress of Solitude” sticker on the door. But that’s just a minor quibble.

Ooooh, also, with the whole “notice” thing—it would help quell the panic that rises along the lines of “shit, my apartment is a mess; I live alone, no one sees this but me; where did I leave that bra; no really, the jungle in my living room is because of the painting; I’m not really a slob; I swear the walls were painted that way when I got here”.

But other than those infinitesimal issues, I completely appreciate the universe stockpiling men in the hall for me. Nice work.

I have to go clean now. I understand the plasterer could be coming sometime in the next few days to repair the hole in the wall. I need to practice my “oh so casual” twirl into the room in my sweater set, a-line skirt, pumps and pearls so that it looks natural.

What do you mean I’m not Doris Day?


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