(Attn: Lion: Unable to read message. On corrupted library computer. Phone is out. Internet is out. No one allowing use of cell phone to call. Pay phones nonexistent. Blame vermin eating wires. Landlord chasing techs off screaming in indian. Other techs unavailable until June. Eviction pushed back a week or two because head is up ass and backlog from vacation. Will try to reach you this week.)
Edit: Finally broke though the abyssal internet connection. Fair enough, I will keep in touch via LJ message for the time being.
Looks like AIM died hard --- I saw your message but it shit the bed and couldn't respond. Better to get a hold of me through Steam (Capricornian) these days as I hardly ever skype (sabretooth_hyena). Tried to sign in on an alt emergency account and it all stalled, so I think their servers up and croaked.
Me: "Hi, turn on my heat please, the thermostat is replaced." Power company: "It's on. We turned it on 4 months ago." Me: "Uh... no, it isn't. If it were on I'd be using it..." Power Company: "We don't do personal calls anymore. It's the landlord's job then. Stop wasting our time." *click*
Power Company: "Fix your thermostat before we can turn on heat." Me: "It works just fine, see?" Power Company: "It needs to -look- fixed, which requires a rewire to make sure. Cost: $5000." Me: "............."
So I go up to the apartment of the Super of the building to get things sorted out.
Vacant. Room's completely empty, freshly hosed down. Door's wide open, some no-english-speaking immigrant is working on the door frame. From what I could make out of the monkeyspeak, the super up and quit. No one knows where he is and his phone is disconnected.
I'm in a room with no heat, no insulation, and tempratures rapidly dropping for the winter months. I have a shit heater that can't compensate because of no insulation and which will fry itself if I turn it on high due to poor quality construction (my father certainly got what he paid for...) Oh, and my food stamps and government aid was revoked. As my caseworker put it, it's "because of hostile politics in Albany. All my allies that got stuff done for us have been kicked out and backdoors closed. My hands are tied, we're fucked."
Essentially the landlord lied to us saying the apartment was ready when it was nowhere near, and bait and switched the wording so it'd be on the super's shoulders to repair shit so that he wouldn't have to. I try to contact him but he's all "don't call me don't call me" (about the only three english words he speaks) because he thinks the super is still around and refuses to believe he'd up and quit. I don't want to get into an argument or evicted yet because I have no backup plan and this landlord looks like he's about to up and quit himself, which means he'd evict everyone in the building...
Edited to add: Well, maybe I have one emergency route *eyes a lion* But that's a real worst case scenario and I'm exploring all other options at least three times first. Moving -there- would remove my disability aid benefits (crossing state lines)
Back online. The techs (plural) had to FIGHT with the wiring. "This place was wired by someone on some very serious designer drugs."
The paper work that was SUPPOSED to be filed from the last tech that was here? Never was. They were about to give up until they tried a "kludge" fix. But sooner or later this place is getting rewired. So many dead wires and crosswired connections in the cable box... someone really had a go at it.
For now though, I am going back down to the Apu-mart near me, get a few of those 99 cent Dew cans as long as my arm, put them in the fridge, eat some sugar cereal and microwavable raveoli, then go play Team Fortress 2 for a GOOD LONG TIME. I need to shoot me some people after all this hassle. Like, LOTS of people. Colombine-levels of pixel blood and exploding Heavies with their Brass Beasts... "You died as you lived... Morbidly Obese."
Posting from the local library here in Middletown, where I am the only native English speaker and everyone else speaks Monkey or Babboon (spanish). You'd think my father'd at LEAST check to see if the city was English speaking, but nooooooooooo...
The cable people came today to put in phone and internet. What do they find? Vandalism and slashed phone lines to my apartment specifically, and to a lesser extent elsewhere to places with tenants too old to know "what's a computer?". They need to call their specific tech qualified to run new line because they can't find all the damage. The damage looks old, too; my guess is that the former tenant of my apartment didn't have internet and just used a cell phone for everything.
I asked "when will this be fixed" and they gave me a blank stare before yelling into a phone in Monkey and going "to to for bizweeks" in broken English. Until then, I have no phone or internet. Fortunately I FINALLY managed to get online at the library, in which I had to fight tooth and claw because it's one of those "If you don't have a card, no computer allowed, NO exceptions."
But yeah. Pissed. Off. I'm going to go stir crazy if I don't get a connection soon.
On top of that, there's a lock on the gas line. The landlord doesn't know why that's there. The "super" in charge of the building doesn't know why that's there. I called them, THEY don't know why it's there because it doesn't show up in their systems "and our systems are holy holy holy, so you're wrong and we're right." So, no refrigeration for soda, cold or frozen food, or anything else, and I didn't get the sense they were going to send someone out to look!
Going to go nuts on a just cereal and microwavable fist-sized bowl of rice every day along with warm soda or apple juice...
Library's forcing me off. Don't know when I'll be back to see responses. Or if I'll be sane when I get back.
Went to my father's. Leave early morning for apartment. Landlord of new location isn't there; I walk about a little bit getting a feel for the area. Have to cancel the internet people because we can't get in. Reschedule receiving a phone and internet service for late tuesday, their earliest. The apartments themselves are less "apartments" than "repurposed warehouse alley or cubicle storage" (because it turns out it's a commercial building, not a residential one) which to me is synonymous with crack den. Landlord "might be, might not be" there later. Brother's apeshit over the littlest things because they're not done according to his timeframe and no one else is around to keep him in check.
And the weekend hasn't even started yet. I might as well quote Murphy. What ELSE could possibly go wrong...