Half-Assed Baltimore: The Sequel

I want to apologize, in advance, for being extra bitchy this weekend. When this city decides to go above and beyond the call of mediocrity, they take it seriously. And understandably, it pisses off the mother of all bitches.

Last night, there was a water main break outside my house.

This isn't mine, but this is sure as hell what it felt like to me.

I called, they came a few hours later. They dug a hole in the ground, shut off the water supply, the entire neighborhood's water supply, and left. More than eight hours later, after hubby had to leave at 4 a.m. to go take a shower at the gym, they still hadn't stumbled their asses back to my neighborhood to fix the break.

Now, there are six people that live in this house, five of whom remain on a Saturday morning. Five people who can't flush the toilet behind themselves or wash their bodies. I don't want to describe to you the smell seeping from under the bathroom door. I don't care how much Nag Champa incense you burn or how many towels you stuff under that door, it's just bad. I may get an infection from holding my bladder, but lucky for me, alcoholics vodka lovers always keep a nice supply of cranberry juice around. It's too bad I can't wash my hands with cranberry juice. I have a...thing about washing my hands. I'm not saying I'm compulsive about it, but if I can't wash them soon, one of these water guys is going to find some dirty, finely manicured hands wrapped around his neck.

Fortunately, I had the foresight to fill some milk jugs with water last night. Thank God(dess) for recycling. Unfortunately, my oldest emptied one of them into the toilet this morning. After a number one, no less. Poor dumb thing. She doesn't know she's stupid. It's okay, honey, you can live with us for the rest of your life. Yeah...that's not gonna happen.

I called city services to find out the status of our being able to wash our asses, and that bitch wasn't the least bit helpful. "There's nothing we can do." she said. "You just have to be patient." she said. "Patient? Bitch, have you met me?" I asked. She hasn't. God must love her. I hung up on her ass because I didn't want to cuss her out. She's only the peon answering the phones. I didn't want to be the bitch that cusses out the little guy who has no control over the situation. But I did hang up on her in mid-sentence. Bitch pissed me off.

Hubby called shortly thereafter and asked if they were out there fixing the pipe. I ranted to him the same way I'm doing to you right now. He said, "That's all I wanted to know. I'll call you back." Ten minutes later, they were outside fixing the pipe.

I know I complain about him always from time to time, but you gotta love a guy who can get people to fix your shit so you can wash your ass.

This is the front of my house right now. Are those mother fuckers just standing there?