Posts Tagged ‘roomates’

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

April 15, 2012

Loopholes

“I have a serious bone to pick with American justice. It is so stretchable and adjustable, that at this point I don’t think there’s any meat left in its body, it’s pulled so tight and full of holes, officially called ‘loop holes’, to make them look slightly better than just holes.

If you were following my roommates’ saga, I called the cops on the last one a couple of times. The last time I had a friend over to be a witness. So when Ben the roommate walked through the living room to go to the kitchen, I had my feet up on a chair blocking the way. As he neared the natural barrier he frowned and growled, “I’m going thru,” and I said, “Ask politely and say ‘please'”, but he replied, “Fuck you,” pushed my feet off the chair and went to the kitchen. My friend exclaimed, “Assault! Physical contact!” So I called the cops. One of the cops said, “There is a provision in the law – you’re allowed to move someone out of your way,” and the cops didn’t do anything and left. Well, a few days later, my friend tried to explain to the policeman who came to arrest him at his place of residence why he shoved his roommate, “I was only moving her out of the way. The policeman in Central District told me it was allowed.” The law adjustment in CD didn’t work in North Seattle, and my friend had to spend the night in jail.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

April 9, 2012

Rita’s Life Further Dramatized

"American Roomates"

 As if Rita’s life were not dramatic enough, it has now been further ‘dramatized’ into a short play, “American Roomates”.  To read this roman de clef, go to: http://ritasplays.blogspot.com/2012/03/just-finished-now-american-roommates.html 

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

March 23, 2012

Editor:  And!  If you’ve been wondering what Rita has been up to:

Rita Tries to Stay Calm and Act in an Even-Handed Way, But…

“My last roommate was Jewish. You see after I had a schizophrenic roommate who thought Jews were after him, I decided to find a Jewish roommate. Because if a race of people is after conspiracy theorists like that guy, than they all must be good people. Well, now I understand why the Germans were so easily persuaded by Hitler during the World War II.

My first mistake was not making him fill out a rental agreement, where I’d have to specify EVERYTHING – like: he inspected everything very carefully and is happy with the conditions of the place and the price, he promises to vacate immediately in case of conflict, he promises to clean up after himself or vacate without argument, etc.

The first morning of his stay he started bickering about the price! He argued relentlessly and managed to get the price down a whole $50. Even when I pointed out that I don’t think we’ll get along, because he, obviously, didn’t respect me, since he didn’t clean up after himself the very first morning, which is why I don’t want to rent to him at all, no matter at what price, he still stayed and got the discount! (Anyone knows how I can join Arial Brotherhood?)

During his stay he’d argue and argue and argue about everything until you give in, or get mad and call the cops, who will only make you feel like a fool and tell you that you should grin and bear it and go in your room and let him make messes with my stuff, because he has the legal right to stay and use the kitchen until you legally go through eviction process. So the cops left, and B. continued to spill grease and crumbs all over the stove and kitchen counters, to never clean the toilet or the manly urine fog forming on the wall by the toilet (now, he said his contribution to the bathroom cleaning was that he never took showers),  he’d decide to cook at 11pm and make noises and disgusting food smells, and he kept me up all night until 4am discussing stupid stuff, then he kept my guest up all night talking to him until 4am, which totally ruined my plans for the evening. 

And thus he lived on, cooking smelly, greasy meats and sausages, waking me up by the smell and noise as early as 7am and taking forever, like 3 whole hours to cook and eat his breakfast! He kept on using my toilet paper and napkins for two month, until I finally had to ask him to buy his own and keep yours where he can’t get to it. 
He showed me no respect for being his elder and better educated, and he would not be able to take constructing criticism at all, trying to make me look bad instead, like: “What do you mean your cookie sheet is covered with grease and black thick soot? where? Oh, that, oh it’s nothing. Why do you make such a big deal of a little thing like that! You are unreasonably picky! So what i didn’t notice it. What’s the big deal….” These conversations could go on until the cows come home, until I stopped talking to him and went to my near-room. Naturally, I preferred avoiding him and leaving him notes: “Please flush the toilet, you left poop in it second day in a row… You left crumbs and grease on the kitchen counter again!” to which he emailed me, “Stop leaving me stupid notes, I’m not going to read them anyway.”
He thinks he is god’s gift to women. Ugh. So he brought wine over one evening and tried to get me drunk, in the hope that I’d see him the way he sees himself after a few glasses. I don’t know what he’d do if I actually got drunk, I never got that far and kept my wits about, nursing the same glass, but I sure wouldn’t want to find out… He got drunk, however, and proceeded to take off his shirt, saying, “I want you’re woman’s opinion, is the hair on my back attractive?” and posed his upper half, with a 3/4 turn and flexing his biceps. I was actually diplomatic in my response, “Just because I hate hairy backs doesn’t mean that there are women out there who love them.” Eventually, at about 2am I ran out of patience and had to yell at him and threaten to call the cops to chase him away from me and into his room.

He finally left yesterday morning, not without a great fuss and ado the night before about some plastic measuring cups of his that I hid, and that I was a bitch, and a wretched woman, so I called the cops, who were very annoyed with me for calling them again and made me pay B. $3 for the cups. I stayed up all night listening to music, drinking beer and smoking, hoping it would disturb his last night’s sleep a little. After a while I felt a little bad, and put a rolled up towel under his door. I shouldn’t have bothered – he didn’t notice or didn’t care, and was his usual asshole self in the morning.

I can’t believe he’d actually fix his stupid breakfast despite the fact that I sat next to the kitchen smoking a cigarette! Any normal human being would just leave and splurge on eating out this one time.

He left a broken egg on the kitchen floor, refusing to clean it up on purpose, and played a fucked up head game with me about whether he would return my keys or not while he cooked his crap.

What is it about all those minority groups – they bitch when you stereotype them, but then behave in the exact manner they so hate people to accuse them of?”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

September 11, 2011

Police are Called!

furthest adventure in the Near-Room

Photo Taken Out of Context / Professional Actor

“The night before last J.B. called 911 at about 3:30 – 4 in the morning, he took his laptop and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. I was woken up by loud talking and the light from the bathroom. (Just to remind you – I live in the near-room now and rent the real room.) So I poked my head from behind the curtain to see what all the commotion was about and saw J.B. standing in the bathroom with the door wide open talking shit about me on the phone to someone. I yelled at him, “What do you think you’re doing! Cut the crap!” He looked at me with hatred and continued into the phone, “…Of course, she’ll deny all of this, she is a very good actress…” I realized that I couldn’t do a damn thing about him, he was just going to have to rant it out, whatever it was. I went back to bed, put on my earphones and the cloth across my eyes and tried to ignore J.B. A few minutes there was a loud knocking on the door. J.B. opened the door and let in 2 policemen and one policewoman in. I came out of the near-room in my skimpy pajamas. The policewoman took me out in the hallway in my skimpy pajamas (tiny pink shorts and a tank top, no bra) and started explaining that J.R. called 911 because there was blood in the bathtub. I stared at her in disbelief, “And you came out because of that! Gees! I have a period, so there might have been a drop of blood in the bathtub I missed.” She nodded, “Yes, I understand, but he was saying you were threatening him…” I listened to J.R. raising his voice inside the apartment, “You should arrest her! She is evil! She left the blood there on purpose!” I giggled. The policeman came out, “This isn’t funny!” Two black elderly people wobbled across the hallway to their apartment, looking at us over the shoulder. I waved to them and smiled. The policewoman with bushy black mustache went inside the apartment and exclaimed, “Wow! Look at what’s in the chair!” Everyone turned to her. “What is it now?” I asked wearily. “It’s a huge cat! Just look at that huge cat!” I sighed in relief, “Yeah, that’s my kitty.” One of the policemen went to look and said, “That’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen!” The other policeman, the one who didn’t think I should have giggled, with a shaved head and a neck and a mean look in his eyes, never bothered to look at the huge cat. He had no time for that – all business and no play. He proceeded to tell me, “Your roommate maybe crazy, but he has rights. You should clean up after yourself and not make him upset, because the next time we come out, one of you is going to jail…” I looked at him defiantly, “Are you threatening me! You have no right, I didn’t do anything, you got me out of bed in the middle of the night!” He softened his manner slightly, “I did tell him that he should find another place to live, but he doesn’t legally have to, so I’m only saying, be careful with him, don’t say anything that could be threatening…”
After the police left I was furious, so I immediately went to my computer and disconnected the wireless router and locked it in a safe. If that jerk is going to call 911 because of a dirty bathroom drain in the middle of the night every night, I’d be damned if he is using my internet anymore.
That must have done it, because he gathered his stuff and left after he woke up sometimes in late afternoon. I was out, I went for a long walk, so I was deliriously happy to come home and to find the big bedroom empty and the keys on the table. Yahoo! Freedom, probably short-lived, but sweet!
Sorry, Jewish people, you missed your chance to pay me to spy on J.B.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

September 11, 2011

Further Adventures in the Near-Room

Some Tenants Just Have to Go

Editor’s Note: The further adventures of our aging artist Rita, as she struggles to make ends meet in various ways, while continuing to work. If you would like to read some of Rita’s plays, just click on the Rita’s Plays link to the right. They are every bit as eventful as her life.

“My current roommate J.B. is a paranoid schizophrenic. He believes that there is a Jewish conspiracy to take over the world.
The other day I came home and he said that someone opened a little cover on the back of his computer to try to get to the hard drive. For some reason the cover wasn’t put back neatly. J.B. immediately assumed that I did that. He said, “It would make perfect sense, that you would accept a $500 payment from the Jews to let them inside the apartment to mess with my computer while I was in the shower!” You see, he takes his laptop with him when he goes out, and when he sleeps, he locks the door from the inside, so the only time someone could have messed with his computer is when he was in the shower, which happens at about 3 am. Now he takes his laptop into the bathroom when he goes to take a shower.
Hey, if anyone knows any Jews who’d pay $500 to spy on my roommate, please let me know! I wasn’t aware there was that much money in it. He says he has a lot of information about how Jews caused 911. I asked him, “Didn’t you get all that ‘information’ off internet?” He said, “Yes, but…” And I said, “So you know nothing, in other words, other than what everyone has access to…” But he kept insisting that Jews would still want to get to his computer, if anything, because they hate him and want him to eat shit and die.

 

Anyway, I gave J.B. a 2-week notice, at which he went into a tirade that he is going to sue me for a million, because I was spying on him, and that 2-week notice isn’t legal, that it has to be a month’s notice, and that he wants to see my bank statements to see if there is a payment from the Jews… The thing is, the notice is up to the day that he paid. Then I added that in case he needs an extension he can pay me $20 per day in cash after that date. To which he threatened to sue again, because how dare I ask for more money. So I said, “It’s more money to compensate me for all this drama dealing with you,” and, “Seriously, you think I’m a spy and a mean person, so why on earth would you want to live here?”
He said, “I don’t, but I have a problem finding a place…”
Obviously, anywhere he goes people want to kick him out after a short time.

 

Hello, any Jews out there who want to spy on my roommate for $500? Please let me know.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

 

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

March 22, 2011

The Eternal Battle

They All Look Good at the Beginning

 

“My nearroom-mate is beginning to worry me: he whined about getting burnt-out at his job, I think he’s also beginning to hate me.
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m paranoid… but…
He also ate 3 jumbo size brown eggs and only put one line in the food-tracking spreadsheet. That’s just wrong!”  – Rita

Photo (taken wildly out of context again) by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

March 5, 2011

Editor’s Note:  We caught Rita on the upswing this time around.  Check out her all-new, money-making website.

Latest Adventure…

 
 

Happy Rita

 

“Hey did you put the link to that website I’m making for everyone to make money:
http://mypiggybankonline.zxq.net    ?

I think I finally got a perfect roommate for my nearroom. He only needs it Monday through Thursday. He works 4 days 12-hour shifts. He comes in at 6:30am when I’m still asleep and goes to bed right away. He gets up sometimes in the afternoon and goes to work at 5:30pm, and if I go out for a coffee or to the library and hang out for a couple of hours before 5:30 I don’t have to run into him at all! Isn’t that awesome! Because that way he won’t go on my nerves too much. Since my nerves are quite frayed. One time he woke up early, like at about noon, and commenced watching a movie. I was out at Harbor View interpreting and came in just for 15 minutes to take a quick shower, because I overslept that morning and didn’t wash my hair. The roommate was up, watching a movie, and I felt very annoyed, just hearing the tv. Luckily I didn’t have to stay, I took my shower and left.
      His name is Dane, it suits him. He is tall and muscular, and has a sweet dog smile, so he looks like a Great Dane. And he has a good job that benefits the world: he works at a bio-diesel plant where they gather used oil from local restaurants and make diesel out of it.
     I made a spreadsheet on Excel with the foods he can eat listed in the left column. The heading at the top says: “Rita’s Kitchen. A serving of anything is just a $1. Instructions: draw a line for a serving of food you take, when you have four lines, draw one across.”
Don’t know if it works yet – there’s nothing on it so far. But I told him I make soup and keep it on the stove every day.
     He only has one bad habit I need to break him out of: he throws a perfectly good towel in the laundry basket after just one shower! What does he think it is – a fucking 5-star hotel!

     I need some inspiration for a book I’m writing. I’m going to attach the first couple of pages so people can read the beginning and give me feedback. Or not.  (Editor:  Watch for it in an upcoming post!)

     I have a depressing bit of news as well: some assholes broke Eva’s car window in her High School parking lot and stole her macbook, her digital camera, her textbooks, and her fluffy slippers!
     The world is so full of evil people!
     I was full of hatred for humans as I browsed through the photographs of abused animals on some vegan advocates’ website to help me calm down and get everything in perspective. The horrors of the suffering of cows and chickens made me feel slightly less sorry for ourselves and, as a side benefit, slightly less hungry. Unfortunately, the compassion generated by the photos wasn’t enough to stop me from devouring a bowl of frozen yogurt. I was able to reason my worries away by saying to myself: not all the dairy farms are that bad; this yogurt box has a picture of a happy smiling cow on it, so this particular company is probably nice to their animals. I wondered if it were made into a law – a full disclosure of how animals are treated on all the meat and dairy packages – would that stop people from buying the products from the companies that treat animals badly, or would it raise their sales, since most people are basically assholes and seem to enjoy others’ suffering?

Rita”

“P. S. Here is a commercial I made inspired by the vegan website: http://zooppa.com/ads/better-for-you-better-for-the-earth/videos/cows-flv ”  (15 seconds)

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

February 19, 2011

Editor’s Note:  For those of you who haven’t been following Rita’s posts religiously – a Near-Room is a word for a sublet Rita has created by curtaining off a portion of her modest apartment’s living area.

The Near-Room / $300 a month

Continuous adventures with the nearroom…

“The latest tenant was a boy called Adam. He came to see the place with his father and they acted very respectable. According to them, Adam was 18 and needed a room to go to Seattle Central and look for a job, and his dad was on his way to North Carolina, leaving right away. His dad gave me $300, saying he’d mail the rent for the next month. He also said he gave Adam money for food and left, leaving Adam here with his backpack.
Adam didn’t seem too interested in school or looking for work. He spent whatever money his father gave him on going out and partying. In a few days all that money was gone. Then Adam started eating my food rather casually. I told him, “You can’t eat my food.” He said, “I have no more money and my dad won’t give me any.” I said, “Go to a food-bank then,” and gave him a list with days and addresses of all the nearby food-banks.  But his highness didn’t feel like going to a food-bank, he continued laying around sleeping or playing video games all day, whenever he wasn’t hanging out with his friends. And he continued eating my food. I told him again, “You can NOT eat my food. Not a crumb, not a drop! Go to a food bank.”
One evening as I was working on my computer, drinking tea and eating cookies, he approached me, “Can I have a cookie?” he asked. I replied, “Absolutely not.” It did ruin my fun, however, and I became very annoyed. He wouldn’t give up, “Why not?”
“Because I told you a thousand times to go to food-bank and you never did. You have to make at least some effort, you can’t expect things just given to you!”
He made sorrowful puppy-eyed face and sat on the couch and commenced staring at me. I finally blew up:
“What are you doing? I’m not giving you any cookies! It’s almost midnight! Leave me alone and go to sleep.”
“I can’s sleep; I slept all day.”
“Not my problem.”
“Why do you hate me?”
“It’s midnight; I’m tired, I’m busy! Get out of my face, leave me alone!”
He went to his nearroom and I turned off the computer, grabbed a book and went to bed – he totally ruined my enjoyment of tea, cookies and HTML.
A couple of days later he disappeared. I was very happy about that. But then my daughter Eva came over and asked, “Where is your roommate?”
“I don’t know.”
We went into the nearroom and exclaimed, “His cell phone is here and his wallet too!”
She picked up his wallet and pulled out his ID, “He’s not 18. He’s going to be in March…”
“Crap! Those assholes lied to me!” I exclaimed.
“How long was he gone?”
“Four days, I guess.”
I realized I was supposed to act responsible, so I called Adam’s dad. I told him Adam was missing, and his wallet and phone were here. His dad said, “I’m sure he’ll be fine, don’t worry about him.” That was that.
Adam did show up in a couple of days, looking dazed. He said he’d been at a rave, and that’s why he left his wallet and cell-phone at home, so they don’t get stolen.
He was clearly hungry and high and had a very bad cough. I let him eat some spaghetti with me since I didn’t want him to drop dead, but told him to get his shit together, stop partying, start going to classes and to food banks. He said okay.
Next morning when I got up and went to the bathroom it stunk of weed.
I stormed into the nearroom. It was time for him to get up and go to school anyway. I yelled, “Adam, get up!” and louder, “Get up!” and yet louder, “Get the fuck up!” He didn’t stir. I had to leave to go to an appointment.
He did wake up in the afternoon. I immediately started yelling at him:
“You can’t smoke pot around here! You’re not even 18! You’re illegal! And you must get up to go to school! This is an ultimatum!”
He said, “Okay.”
Needless to say, this situation continued until his rent was up, which was yesterday. He was hanging out with his friends, stoned as usual, and wouldn’t respond to my calls and texts demanding that he gives the keys back. So I went on Facebook and sent emails to all his father’s contacts with same last name asking for help. Luckily Eva and her friend stopped by, so Eva’s friend called Adam from his cell phone and caught him by surprise and asked him where he was, he said at McDonalds at Westlake. So we drove there and got the keys from him.”  – Rita

Photo by Rita Andreeva


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