I'm in the middle of a feud. I wish it was with someone louche and questionable, because then at least my feud would be slightly cool. But no, my feud is with my garbage man. And I'm going to win this feud, so help me. I'm close to meeting him at the curb with a glove to slap his stupid face so I can challenge him to a duel.
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For a little background on my feud, I rent a house with six other guys. We all take turns doing the garbage duty, but somehow I always end up doing it because the other guys "forget". This sucks because they are all men and I'm an innocent girl who should never have to touch garbage, but I guess I went on and on about women's equality and how I'm as good as they are and they believed me and now I'm stuck doing "man's work." Note to self: keep feminist ideas quiet.
Back to my feud - about two or three months ago, our garbage man left us a cute little note. No, he wasn't thanking us for all the quality garbage we produce (a metric ton of bottles and cans and porn), he was complaining because we "put our cans too close together and they must be at least four feet apart." He left this note on top of our still full garbage cans that he refused to pick up.
Of course we had just had a party, so there were all sorts of decomposing items in the garbage can that had to sit around for another week, in addition to the new garbage we accumulated. I was the only one who was pissed off about this, because I'm a woman and I'm averse to rotting garbage scenting my home. The other guys didn't even notice, but these are guys who think their gaseous emissions smell like Chanel No. 5, so I was the only one who seemed bothered.
The next garbage pickup, I carefully observed the 4 foot rule, as well as the rule of not exceeding the capacity of the can. I was a regular Sanitary Poster Child. I gave good garbage. And our garbage was picked up, so all was well, until one night I happened to look down at the rest of the garbage cans on our street and I noticed that our neighbor's cans were closer together than 4 feet, like so close they were touching. And yet their garbage was being picked up. Well, I'll be fucked sideways. If my neighbor's garbage cans can touch, so can mine.
Next garbage day, I put the cans close together. That night, I came home to find one of our cans, open, laying on it's side. The other can was sideways at the other end of the driveway. But the rest of the block, all their garbage cans were neatly lined up and TOUCHING. And thus, it was on. The feud had begun.
Every week, I've deliberately put the garbage cans together (like the rest of the street), and every week, our cans are fucked up. Knocked over. Akimbo. Today I was fed up, so I put the garbage cans together and then at the ungodly hour of 5:15 am, I watched the garbage man from a hidden corner on our porch. The fucker dumped our garbage into the truck and then looked around before knocking over one of our empty cans with his foot.
At this point, I sprang out of the shadows and said, "Why the fuck did you do that?" It was kind of funny to watch him jump. He recovered quickly though, and with an extremely surly tone he said he was fed up with our cans being too close every week. I said, "Well, what about the rest of the block? See their cans? Yeah, they're all touching, yet you don't abuse their cans. What the fuck?"
Here's where the story just gets bizarre, as per usual in my life. The garbage man (who looks like he just came from the local biker bar) picks up one of our garbage cans and chucks it into the back of his truck, gets in the truck, and the driver starts to drive away. I stood in awe until my anger took over again and I ran up along side the truck, just in time to be treated to his grinning face and his middle finger.
Now we only have one garbage can. All I'm going to say is, hell hath no fury. Do we not pay for this service? I have a feeling that dealing with the sanitation department is going to be like dealing with the DMV - I'm going to get fucked. There's probably some rule I don't know about, like: Never fuck with your garbage man. We'll probably all have to move because I tried to take them on.
This is a complaint from yesterday, but it still stands today: I hate people who say, "Happy Hump Day!" on Wednesdays. They are the same people who say, "T.G.I.F!" and "Looks like someone's got a bad case of the Mondays!" (and they aren't being sarcastic and quoting Office Space either) and "It's raining so hard, I had to swim into work! Quack, quack!" I hate you and I hope you trip over your Payless shoes.