You Want to be Popular, Don't You??

It can be so hard to stick out from the crowd and stay on top of the newest, hottest trends. Lucky for you, Adventures of the Mold Girl is so on trend right now! Simply by liking The Adventures of the Mold Girl's Facebook page will show the world how truly cool you are with only the slightest amount of effort. 

The Facebook page will keep you up to date on all of the most recent Mold Girl postings. There, you can also find extra commentary and other content. Woohoo!

And remember, there is absolutely nothing more important than being popular. At least except for making sure the rest of the world knows it too.

"Thank you. By the way, do you know what existential means? Because today someone told me my writing was existential, so I thought I should coordinate, you know, with wardrobe." - Quinn Morgendorffer

Quinn is the ultimate humanitarian

Photo credits: Daria

Appurtenances

Appurtenance |əˈpərtn-əns|
noun (usu. appurtenances)
An accessory or other item associated with a particular activity or style of living: all the appurtenances of luxurious travel.
ORIGIN Middle English: from Old French apertenance, based on late Latin appertinere ‘belong to’ (see appertain).

A teal crushed velvet scrunchie is an excellent appurtenance to jazz up any outfit

Why did I just post the definition of "appurtenance" (other than to, you know, contribute to expanding society's vocabulary via a beloved reminiscence of the Word of the Day from third grade English class. Now, go use it in a sentence!)? Anyway, I was recently assigned to do a mold inspection of a building in downtown Manhattan in the midst of a large legal battle. My company had been given several documents outlining various problems with the property. Along with a lot of other bizarre terms and out of place references, the building owner had used the word "appurtenances" instead of "accessories" in one of the documents to describe a component of the building. I love a good two-dollar word as much as the next person, but something in the documents was throwing me off. People frequently ask me if I've ever seen any "really scary mold" situations. My response is always that the mold is never the scary part, it's the people. The use of the word "appurtenance" should have told me that this whole situation was only going to go downhill from there. 

The job was at an absolutely disgusting building, but came with an even more disgusting property manager. I can barely even go into the details because they're just too stupid, so I'll stick to the highlights reel. That day it was pouring, the weather and the streets were a mess. I arrived to the site twenty minutes late (which in my book doesn't even count as late) but from the way the guy reacted, you'd think I had showed up four hours late, drunk, and missing half my equipment. 

If only.

He showed me around the building for a half hour or so and repeatedly said things like, "I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but...", "I've been in this business a long time, so I know what I'm talking about", and "I've never seen a girl at a job site before". Okay Mr. Genius of the Universe, if you're so smart and perfect and prompt, oh, and a man, why don't you do the mold test yourself? You seem to clearly know what you're talking about. Obviously as a girl, it's much too complicated for me. *Eye. Roll.*

The building manager had set up an appointment with other people at the same time as my investigation. So of course as soon as they arrived, I was completely ignored so the real men could finally get down to business. Thank the lord! I could finally do my job in peace!

I normally don't wear a respirator on the job, most places I go are in very good shape. Unfortunately this building was so disgusting that I seriously considered burning my outfit afterward.

Technically the building had been a "family friendly" pizzeria. At least according to a sign that had been left behind

But apparently, the third floor had also been home to a secret brothel

If only the building manager had kept all his "tips" to himself!

Photo credits: Moulin Rouge, Futurama, riverfronttimes.com, The Simpsons

Party Animals

The past couple weeks I have gone out drinking expecting nothing out of the ordinary, just your average mix of hipsters, bros, hipster bros, basic boring-os, and a sprinkling of normal people, but have ended up finding myself boozing alongside the most bizarre company.

Last weekend I went to a bar called Lucky Dog in Williamsburg. I assumed "Lucky Dog" was just a name. You know, I don't go to The Slaughtered Lamb thinking that I will find myself surrounded by actual lamb carcasses or The Wolf and Deer expecting to see the circle of life unfold before my eyes. Lucky for all things cute in the world, Lucky Dog isn't all talk and really does live up to its name. I have no idea how this is legal, but apparently Lucky Dog is a pet friendly drinking establishment. If I'm not mistaken, I believe they also serve food there too... The place was packed full not only with people, but with man's best friend as well. I was so jealous of my companion, who just so happened to be sitting next to an obese pug.  The dog was swagged out in a stylish little sweater and sat on a bar stool with his paws on the counter like he owned the place. He was even served a free shot of beer! Having witnessed this scene, I can now die a happy person.

Did anybody card this animal? He doesn't look 21 to me. The things looks will get you, I guess!

 Continuing on this animal theme, yesterday I found myself at a small dive bar in the East Village called Manitoba's. I don't really understand why, but I guess somebody who was friends with the bar tenders was trying to raise funds for some charity, so the bar tenders were going around asking patrons if they'd like to purchase a button for two dollars. The guy next to me whips out A LIVE CRUSTACEAN OUT OF NOWHERE and tries to barter it for a button. Do not ask me where on his person the man kept the aquatic animal, because I still am not sure. Just my luck to get stuck next to the lobster instead of the pug!

This isn't quite what I saw crawling around the bar, but it's as close as it's going to get. I legitimately have no idea what to even google. 

I was a bit bitter that the bar didn't at least bust out Under the Sea. That would have made the slightly disturbing scene more tolerable.

Photo credits: http://www.bsos.umd.edu

Spring has Sprung

Check out these gorgeous views of blossoming trees and distant Manhattan taken from the seventeenth floor of a Fort Greene apartment building. Now go out and enjoy this beautiful weather! :)

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