June 03, 2002~~9:58 p.m.
Sue You, LimpNoodle!
And you thought it was over. Alas, your favorite LimpNoodle and mine, Steve from FagPosse, is not so easily dismissed. He has left an indelible footprint on all of our lives, and, it appears, the latest evidence shows he had stepped in a pile of dog poo and it has been smeared all over everything. Since the steam cleaner we rented at Safeway doesn�t seem to have done the trick, it looks like Judge Judy will have to come through for the superheros of this story, Lauren and Maria. But I digress. Let me explain as briefly as possible. Hahaha. Hang on. It�ll be a wild ride, and LimpNoodle is at the helm� So last week, Maria and I worked our tails off to move out of 1812 H and into our new lives. In the process, we diligently checked off the various tasks LimpNoodle and his FagPosse at FagPosse Land Company had sent us (only upon our request, let it be known) which were required to be completed in order to get our deposit back. The same deposit that Maria hopes to use for her summer road trip and I hope to use on a cushion or two of my new sofa. Thus, Friday found us hot, sweaty, and in dire need of showers, when the last chore to do was to run the Rug Doctor over our shoddy and cheap carpet to blast away those nasty dust mites and other rancid items that had taken shelter in our flooring. Whilst Maria went to her parents� to shower, I volunteered to run the Rug Doctor, knowing full well that both our lease AND the check sheet required �professional steam cleaning� to be done. But nowhere did it mention showing a receipt for these services upon check-out. And I consider myself a Professional Bitch, thus, the steam cleaning was done professionally. Let it be known, also, that one of the few things I learned from my brief stint in law school was that a landlord cannot legally charge tenants for �normal wear and tear� on the premises, which includes cleaning the carpets. The fact that we signed a lease with this as a move out requirement does not bode well for us, but whatever. We are out for one thing: our deposit. And there was no way in hell that we could afford a professional steam cleaning service. So the Rug Doctor and I busted our asses to clean up little 1812 H. And at the end, she looked so lovely. 1812 H had never seen a brighter day than that hot Friday afternoon. Her floors sparkled and threatened to sweep us off our feet with Mop N� Glo. Her carpets were free of mites and Nipper water trails. Only a moldy spot in my bedroom remained from her poor plumbing, but no longer was that our problem. Our appointment with LimpNoodle was at 4 p.m. Only after I called him did he appear at 4:30, and that was after he said in his nasal limpy voice �I�m on my waaaaay.� Then, like a limp, gay, phoenix, Steve emerged to do our walk through. He spent the next 15 minutes silently taking digital pictures of little 1812 H. I tried to helpfully point out that it appeared that they had a major plumbing issue on their hands, using the mildewed carpet as evidence. I also informed him that Maria had scrubbed her hands raw with steel wool trying to free the grease from the stove trays. All met with limp silence from Steve. Finally, I asked if we could discuss the issues he found with the place. He said that no, we couldn�t discuss them at this time. He wouldn�t look me in the eye, and he just said lamely, �Just fax over your move in sheet because I don�t have it, so I can�t compare what it looks like now to what it looked like when you moved in. I don�t want to discuss this right now.� Um, excuse me? We�re moving out of our apartment and we don�t even get to know what you�ll be spending our $700 deposit on after we spent all day hanging out with the Rug Doctor? Whatever. So I stupidly let it go. But be not afraid. I didn�t let it go for long. I�d already gotten into my car with Maria and my moving helper, Ryan, and I realized that I just wasn�t okay with LimpNoodle�s moratorium on talking about the state of 1812 H. So I got out of the car and walked up to LimpNoodle. The conversation that occurred included a discussion of how I�d really like something in writing about what was wrong with the apartment, how it was our right as tenants to have this information, Steve saying it wasn�t �FagPosse policy� to discuss it right then, me retorting that this �policy� seemed a bit odd and could I please see the FagPosse business document that included this �policy� and blahblahblah on and on until finally Limpy said, �Look. If you want to discuss this at my office, it�s on K St.� And we were off to the FagPosse headquarters. Long story short, once there, LimpNoodle had his fat sugar daddy backing him up in the office and he had also miraculously acquired our move in papers which he�d gotten from our original landlord months ago. We learned that it would cost $30 to clean our trashed mini blinds that were filthy and broken when Maria moved in, and also that he�d determined our oven to be dirty, to the tune of a $60 cleaning visit. When I offered to go back and clean said oven, I was met with a flat denial from Limpy and Suge Daddy because �we close at six and it�s already 5:30 (um, who was late to our appointment and who could�ve told us about the oven when we were standing 2 FEET AWAY FROM IT??!!! Oh yeah, just LimpNoodleSteve, the biggest jackass in the history of property management). So we were denied the opportunity to save $60 for someone to come wipe out our oven. Yes, I did say 60 BONES for that service. Not only that, but Stevie declared that due to our lack of a receipt for our �professional cleaning� we would be charged for that service in addition to the water spot on our bathroom linoleum which he pointedly blamed upon our �leaving the shower curtain open during the shower.� Again, if you recall, it is a miracle from God that we were ever able to even TAKE a shower due to our lack of hot water for 6 � months. But that is neither here nor there. So we finally left the FagPosse Land Company compound to the call of Limpy telling us �good luck!� He�s so fricking lame, I tell you. Words cannot describe the lame factor we are dealing with here. Honestly. So the weekend went by. I mulled over LimpNoodle�s offer for us to �take issue� with things AFTER we have received our deposit refund, (what the hell kind of sense does THAT make? Oh yeah. None. N-O-N-E, jackass) and I decided to give L.N. Steve a phone call today. I said very nicely that I really take issue with the way he handled things, that it might not be a lot of money for him but it is for us, and that he violated our rights as tenants in not giving us something in writing or allowing us to fix the problems he saw in our apartment, etc. About that time, Limpy grew a very miniscule pair of balls and interrupted me. He said he would no longer discuss this (insert lame landlord whine here) and that he did not violate our rights, blahblahblah and he didn�t have time for this. So I asked if he had time for an appearance in small claims court. He said that yes, he did. Then he warned me that he was about to hang up on me and asked if it was okay. I said that no, it was not okay, and then with a clickity click, he was gone as fast as he had pissed me off. Yes folks, LimpNoodleSteve hung up on me. Maria got online quickly and found the link to the Sacramento County Small Claims Court and I was only mildly bummed that I didn�t get the chance to mention that her dad is a prosecutor with the Attorney General�s office and mine is also an attorney and that BY GOD I have a year of Property law under my belt. But Steve will find out soon enough. One of my favorite things to do is write mean letters to people. And I have had lots of practice with ex-boyfriends. Steve is no different, except that he lacks a penis. But like I said to Maria, Steve is about to take it up the ass, and not the way he likes it. We are embarking upon a fun-filled summer of nailing LimpNoodleSteve and the FagPosse to the wall in court�that is, if he refuses to refund our deposit in full. And you are all invited.
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