Welcome to Britt5091: Origins, where I dig up old blog posts I used to write for IGN’s community under the username Britt5091. Some posts may make you giggle, some may make your eyes bleed, and some may make you stroke your beard in a pensive manner. All you need to know is that these posts, no matter how terrible some of them may be, ultimately lead to everything I do now.
The (mis)adventures of Brittney?s apartment *update*
July 17th, 2009
Shit has been breaking left and right in my apartment since yesterday, and its gotten to the point where I feel it’s epic enough to share the latest incident.
About an hour ago I’m getting ready to take a nice hot bath. Work had been a little rough, so it was just what the doctor ordered. I started the water and got in. Theeen someone begins knocking on the front door. My plan was to ignore it, but after a minute or two of constant knocking, I decided I better answer it in case I had won a magnificent prize or something.
Water still running, I made myself presentable and scrambled to the front door to find two Mormons. They start talking about religion, apparently oblivious to the sound of running water and the fact I’m standing there in a robe. FINALLY I manage to excuse myself and slam the door in their face. I come back to the bathroom…
…and it’s overflowing.
Water is dumping over the edge of the tub, seeping under the cabinet and starting to make its way into the hallway. I immediately go for the knobs to turn the water off, and one of the FUCKIN KNOBS BUSTS OFF, leaving me with a little tube thing poking out of the wall.
I’m freaking out at this point, and in the midst of my panic attack I forgot about the drain. I flipped the switch, but I swear to God I have the slowest drain in the world, so it would take time for that to work.
I quickly grabbed a bunch of towels, threw them on the ground, began to run out, however the tile was slippery as hell and I bit it HARD. I limped to the bedroom in an attempt to locate a pair of pliers to TRY and twist that tube-thing in hopes the water would shut off. Found them and tried working my magic. The only thing I managed to do was chip part of the tube off.
I made my way down to the Manager’s office (still in a robe) and pounded on the door. No one there. I tried calling his cell. No answer, but I left a message which I’m sure resembled the sound of a dying cat. When I came back up to my apartment, the drain had kicked in and overflowing had stopped, but the running water hadn’t.
So my friends, as I write this post, I am bleeding and listening to the therapeutic sound of running bath water.
[face_silly] How’s your Friday going?
Update: OMFG. Manager came, had to shut the entire water supply off to the building, but they fixed it. However shortly after he left I managed to short circuit the kitchen by having the toaster and microwave running at the same time. Niiice.
BAHAHAHA. My life…I swear to God. But until now I had somehow forgotten about that incident–maybe because it was so traumatic? I’ve heard that, sometimes, when you experience an event so harsh and emotionally damaging your brain blocks it out of memory. I’m thinking that’s what happened here.
Like they say, there ain’t no livin’ like apartment livin’. Especially when it was in the heart of the U-District in Seattle.
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