Classic Snivel

August 17, 1997.

Consider this week a complete failure. Forget about it. It was truly yucky and stressful and full of disappointments and crap, and I'm lucky I survived it at all, let alone that I refused the temptation to destroy the world that has spurned me so greatly this past month.

I mean, while I couldn't actually destroy the world if I wanted to, the obsessive genius I generally invest into my creative endeavours and manic depressive fits of sulking would definitely provide for casualties and infamy enough for my liking.

Beginning with the cows. Ohhhhh yessss, we musn't forget the cows. In one fell swoop my revenge could be had on humanity and all of cowdom. The trick is to get enough humans and cows together for there to be significant death and destruction should some evildoer figure out a way to actually make the cows all explode at the same time. Which is why I had the Ex in mind. The Ottawa Exhibition is this annual end of summer carnival, complete with surly carnies and lousy rides and food poisoning and those games where you have to invest your life savings to win one of the larger stuffed animals, because regardless of how good a shot you are, you'll never, ever, be able to win a big prize. They make you "upgrade" from the thing that resembles a plush felt five-inch sausage that you just won.

So they have cows there, too. They even have a pavillion lovingly named The Cattle Castle where the menagerie is held. And all of Ottawa's brightest and best cattle come each year to be inspected and gawked at by tourists, children, and judges alike.
Now, the thing about cows is that they are essentially large pockets of methane. And they have been known to explode, seemingly at random, before, but especially when there are sparks or flames involved. All it would require is just one desperately evil genius to insert some manner of fuse and minor flare into the cows, and then run. So while the immediate "priming" of the explosives would be unpleasant, it would be satisfying to cause cows just that little bit more discomfort and shame before the end.

My conservative estimate would put the casualties near several hundred, possibly more if the explosions structurally weakened the pavillion enough to collapse. And while I say that I've found resolution enough to scrap all such urges, it is just one of many such plans I could impliment if I really were insane, so thank the maker I'm not evil. Or even mean.

I'm just a soft, squishy, pleasant lump named Rob, and I'm going to be starting fresh with the snivel tomorrow, so please do turn up.

A u g u s t 11

And then comes the moody groaning as it all sets in. Kind of like when you go insane on Thanksgiving, and lie in bed bloated and uncomfortable as you too-slowly begin to digest your engorgement. Except with less gas and more rings under your eyes.

Oh, I hate apartment hunting. Now more than ever. And I'm sure you're exceedingly tired of every darn Snivel being about my frustrating and futile search for accomodations. Take heart though, and trust me when I plead you to imagine how I might exactly feel being the one who has to go through this endless hell. To have the stupid world turn on me again, and again, and bloody again

As I mentioned, I called the new prospective roommates Thursday evening, the day after I saw the apartment, to tell them I'd decided to take it. However, they weren't in, so I left a message, leaving the usual particulars behind in order to get a return phone call that acknowledged my general committment to the situation. I didn't hear from them for a day or so, and thus I called Saturday afternoon, and left another message, to just make sure that they'd gotten the first one.

Well. The phone rang not long later, and I talked to one of the girls. And even as I spoke, I was waiting for the word "unfortunately" to turn up in the conversation, much as it had done twice before. And there it was. I didn't even need her to finish the sentence, or actually just get past that one word. I don't even know what happened. All I know is that she sounded awkward and apologetic, and I'm assuming it was sudden (having happened a couple of days ago, apparently) and unavoidable.

At first I was upset. To the point of fury. I mean, I didn't kick anything or scream or set any fires, but I did the next angriest thing, at least for me, which was to pout and pace, followed by periods of not moving. If I had a big lagoon filled with frogs (and someday I will, my dear droogies), they all would have sensed my mood and retreated underwater to the farthest corner, for fear of being picked up and petted entirely too roughly for their liking as I sulked.

Largely I was just extremelely frustrated, disappointed, and scared. I have less and less time remaining until I have to move out, and it really is utterly heartbreaking to have to be let down so consistently when it comes to something I've had my heart set on. I'm a bit more philosophical today. I mean, still upset, but I'm moving on. I saw a different apartment in the exact same building today, which had my hopes up, but in the end I decided I shall probably not take it. It really wasn't as nice as the first place. The room itself is just tiny compared to the first one, and especially compared to what I'll end up needing. I could have dealt with it if I'd had the apartment to myself (then my accessories could be distrubuted througout the apartment), but not as it stands now.

The thing that also bothered me was that I didn't meet any of the people who will be living there. The only person who was going to still be there in the fall was this young man who apparently never cooked or did anything much other than sit in his room and use the internet. Which I guess sounds like the ultimate roommate, but if you've ever seen the espisode of the Tick where the Tick and Arthur battle Thrakozog the giant space alien who lives in the apartment across the hall, then you know of the roommate who completely creeped Thrakozog out. And my friend Burrhus had a roommate just like that named Bram, whom ultimately drove him batty and towards minor acts of psychological counter-cruelty, so I wasn't entirely sure. Anyway, if it had been a better place I would have swallowed the roommates more easily, but I expect I'd want to throw at least one of them off the balcony, and technically that's murder.

I just thought in the end that I would have spent the next year thinking of how much better I liked the apartment on the 26th floor. It was excellent, and I felt like I was being reminded of an ex-girlfriend. The weird thing was, after the woman renting out the place showed Broken and I the pool, she took us back up for one more long look, and on the elevator up we ran into one of the girls who was going to rent me the previous apartment. That was obscenely awkward. She sort of smiled at me as we got on, in awkward recognition, but the ride up was markedly silent and remote. I think she must have felt like the guiltiest person on earth for awhile there, which is actually fine by me. Not that I have any ill-will towards them. I understand the realities of renting rooms, and the urgency required in the decision-making process, but I had told her about the previous two times it had happened to me, and I really wanted that apartment.

I'm looking at a couple more places tomorrow, and they all sound really good. The one I have the most hopes for is this big, bright spacious place downtown. It's on the third floor of this old brick building that used to be a convent, and it sounds amazing. And apparently the bedroom itself is one of the largest you could ever hope to find. This is a selling point to me. For various reasons, including my insane need for personal space, privacy, and predilections towards whorish sin and debauchery, I like a big, cozy room that I can make as cool as possible. The other neat prospect is that the girl I'd be roomming with is leaving in November, and I'll have the option of trying to find someone to replace her if I want to hang onto the place. Presumably I would. Now, Broken was denied a student loan this year, but we're toying with the idea of using deceit to try again. If that works out, then she'll be able to move on in into the other bedroom later this fall, and that would be ideal, since we're close friends who respect each other's need for space and trust one another with our possessions and shoulders.
So we'll see. I think, though, that if I like it, I won't leave without emphatically saying "YES!" The ad was just placed this morning in one of Carleton's newsgroups, and it wasn't the housing-related one, so I think I was the first person to respond to it, which is encouraging and hopeful.

Brought to you by Jolt Cola, with
the buzzing and mild irritation of
caffeine induced paranoia.

Return to days past for more Classic Drivel.

Back to Purple People Eater Town.