Hey D, Just Another Day on the Job

I have a friend and former coworker who shall be known as D. D is a tattooed and burly Russian from outer Brooklyn. At first glance he can seem a tad scary. And second glance too. Third glance is when his big fluffy heart is finally revealed. D has a handful of years on me, and likes to act as my pseudo big brother - I'm told constantly that I'm not "professional" or that something isn't "safe" or "don't do that". He can be kind of a Debbie Downer. But boy certainly has a knack for witty banter. I love all of our heated discussions which somehow end up on the topic of feminism without fail. I particularly enjoy my ability to exasperate him, although to be honest, he probably exasperates me more. 

I always imagined D as a Paul Bunyan type - like Pauly B, D frequently sports a plaid shirt, and isn't lacking in the body hair department either. I'm sure he also wouldn't embarrass himself too badly in a duel against Dracula. 

D loves to give advice. As one of my many therapists, his trademark counsel is as follows:

"MG, I want you to stare at the mirror and give yourself a good, hard look in the eyes. Now repeat this mantra until it finally works, 'shut the fuck up'."

So thaaat's all I need to do. Thanks, Doctor D.

Are we ready for the ink blot tests yet?

As a Russian Jew from Brooklyn, D grew up surrounded by a lot of girls who could arguably be called JAPs. He has a hard time understanding the difference between a JAP, aka a Jewish American Princess, and a young, awesome, smart, hilarious female Jew with a great sense of style and some standards. I personally do not use the term "JAP", I prefer the more general phrase Basic Bitch. No, I do not call my father "daddy". No, I do not require at a minimum of two hours to get ready in the morning. No, my parents do not support me. No, I do not go gallivanting around the local mall decked out in Ugg boots, a Louis Vuitton handbag, a revealing Abercrombie & Fitch top, and a matching Tiffany's necklace, bracelet, earrings combo set. 

Imagine this scenario, just brown hair

There, that's better - it's Gretchen Wiener!

To put the whole JAP thing to rest once and for all, I will demonstrate a situation that I recently found myself in -  a situation where no Basic Bitch would EVER step foot. Last week a management company informed me before an inspection that I would be investigating a hoarder situation. I hate hoarders, they're gross and creepy, but it's usually not too big of a deal. Been there, done that, nothing I haven't seen before. Upon arrival at the site, a building maintenance worker says to me, "You know the deal with this apartment, right?". I said I was aware that it was a hoarding situation and he responded, "It's a bit more than that. You'll see". Coooooooooolllll.

Apparently the story is this: an old man had been living in the studio apartment for the past fifty years. In addition to the hoarding problem, he never cleaned the place. Not once. The building management had to forcibly remove the resident so that maintenance workers could remove the piles and piles of clothing and other items that had covered every free inch of space.

Horrifyingly, but not unexpectantly, the workers discovered an insect infestation in the bed. An exterminator was called in, and the exterminator provided a list of every type of insect he had found living in the apartment. The list could fill the pages of a novel. Underneath the bed had at one point been a throw rug. The throw rug today? It was 100 percent eaten and decomposed by insects. No joke. The carpet is now pure dust.This was probably the most disgusting apartment I've ever been in. And that truly is saying something. In your face, D?

The emptied studio apartment

How does a random part of your wall get THIS dirty??

I am not fucking kidding, this massive pile of a sawdust looking material was ONCE A CARPET. This is what a 50 year long insect infestation looks like.

Classy fabric wallpaper looking not so classy now.

The kitchen. Let's hope this wouldn't count as a "C" on NYC's controversial restaurant grading system.

The fridge. No words.

And the Grand Finale

Photo credits: http://wingedboar.net, Blitzcadet, Daria, Barbie, Mean Girls