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Caution The Content below is not for those with Coprophobia or grammar Nazis.

Ive been living in a new space for a little over a month now. The new place I have moved to is an old cotton mill converted into live /work studios for artists.  I really like the space and all my neighbors are artists of some sort or another and seem to be super cool. The management however is kinda lacking in the awesome department.  They seem a little up tight for people who woke up one morning and decided to rent space to artists in a mill. I really want this place to be the utopia for artists I dreamed of, but management so far has been a little like an over zealous sandman fighting my dream.  When we first moved in they gave my boyfriend and I one set of keys. Count that in your head now… two people, one set of keys.  The math isn’t working for me either. I would get a second copy but they kinda say duplication prohibited all over and in caps so large they make my eyes bleed.  So… my boyfriend scales the wall and climbs into a second floor window everyday when he comes home.  I told the maintenance guy and he basically shrugged and walked away. Then theres the mailbox that doesn’t exist…I haven’t received mail in a month. i like mail. damn.  I do however have a key for the mailbox. My toilet has been the best part of my experience here. Last tuesday our toilet started this weird sloooow drain thing, by thursday the toilet was officially on strike. So we let the maintenance guy know, he then promptly gave us directions to home depot…thanks…thanks for that. So we rented some crazy machine that didn’t do shit.  Punny, i know! Friday he finally decided to help us out of sewage city…until 5pm that is.  Clock out time.. is clock out time, around here man!  Creative peeing became my new hobby, living without a toilet.  7am Saturday morning maintenance came back pounding on the door.  I watching three men standing around the hole where my toilet once lived staring at their poop spinning machine.  The poop spinning machine really did a great job spattering all the walls, it even got some in the living room.  I think I missed that splatter art diy project the day it debuted on HGTV.  So I left for the day despite all the excitement.  When I came home I found a note: Dear Pooper, sucks to be you.  We shut off your water.  Hope you find some where to poop.  See you on Monday.  Maybe.  Love, Management  (ok that’s not quite how it read…thats just how I translated the letter in my head).  Its Wednesday now, we have water and a toilet life couldn’t be better!!!  Today I found notices pinned everywhere regarding dog poop. it really bothers me when you walk in an an apartment complex and some anal retentive manager has hung sign after sign up of demands and threats.  I hope to god thats not what I have signed up for here.  It’s just not conducive to the warm homey feeling your dwelling should have. Some people just aren’t picking up Fido’s poop apparently.  They are threatening fee’s and possibly eviction if you don’t pick up after Fido. Maybe it wasn’t Fido though… maybe they just found my secret spot while I was revisiting the stone age… we may never know! 😉 annnd End Rant.  Thank you very much my internet friends, I needed to get that off my chest.

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