Mold Girl Appreciation Day

Hello friends! Today marks a momentous occasion, for today is my two year anniversary as a mold inspector! I'm not sure if I should be celebrating or curled up underneath my desk crying hysterically with a bottle of gin. Regardless, I will be accepting any and all gifts in the form of baked goods, Barnes & Noble gift cards, live animals, and/or alcohol. It's the least I deserve after spending countless hours keeping this city safe from the toxic black mold of death! Thank you, I await your congratulatory presents :)

This is my party face

Photo credits: Someecards, Jake's Dog House

Keeping It Real

As I described in my very first post ever!, my job provides my conscience with an internal conflict. Generally speaking, most mold inspections are pointless, people simply do not know how to properly handle a leak situation. The media particularly creates an atmosphere of fear with its focus on the TOXIC BLACK MOLD OF DEATH or whatever. But then again, if people DID understand how to properly handle moisture problems, I'd be out of a job. Conundrum!
Normally real estate management firms foot the bill for my mold inspections, although recently my company's sales manager had unwillingly talked an individual apartment renter into an inspection despite her hesitation to pay for such an expensive service. 

I view my company's sales manager and Randall from Monsters Inc. as basically the same person - very sneaky and calculating. Beware!

Upon arrival at the job, the woman showed me the area in question. I was rather confused as to why I was commissioned to perform an inspection. There had been a one-time leak in the space two years prior, and no signs of water damage were visible. Suddenly the woman broke down in in front of me, explaining that she had recently had a death in the family and now was suddenly responsible for a million new things and didn't know what to do. She asked me point blank if a mold inspection was necessary. 

"Whatever, I'm getting cheese fries"

Like Regina George (hopefully not *too* much like her!), I too am not unfamiliar with mental meltdowns. There have been a handful of times where it's been hard for me to keep my shit together both while at the office and in the field. I felt a strong connection with this woman and had a lot of empathy for her situation. After informing her that a mold inspection did not appear to be necessary and sharing a few easy mold tips, the resident invited me to enjoy tea and cake in her apartment. Instead of performing a lame mold test, we spent a lovely afternoon together talking about the environmental field. :)  

I have never turned down an invitation to a good tea party!

Speaking of Alice in Wonderland and tea parties, I just realized that today is my un-birthday! Is it your un-birthday too?? Oh my gosh, no way! Well I wish us all a very merry un-birthday! :)

Photo credits: Monsters Inc., Alice in Wonderland, Mean Girls

Ring Around the Rosie

Spoiler alert: Harold's got a secret stash of chocolate

Paging all children of the nineties! Anybody remember that episode of Hey Arnold where they get stuck in the subway and the whole train goes ape shit crazy? Ever since viewing that episode, there's always been a subconscious fear in the back of my mind of getting trapped in the subway. Of course hold-ups are a constant annoyance of riding the NYC MTA, but recently I had one of my scariest train experiences. Traveling underground (and under water!) between Manhattan and Brooklyn on the D train, the train lurched HARD. Every standing person, including myself, legitimately fell down as if we were in some accidental game of Ring Around the Rosie. Ashes, ashes. And we all fall down! Most people audibly gasped, a few screamed, and more than one person made the sign of the Cross. I was quite shocked and proud of myself - as somebody who manages to cause more food/drink mishaps than a drunk three year old, I was able to hold onto and not spill my full iced coffee! Thank god this scary moment did not escalate further into something worthy of a Lifetime movie! We survived with no further incident. The end. Good story, I know. 

Pocket full of posies...

Photo credits: americaslibrary.gov, Hey Arnold

One Man's Cardboard Box is Another Man's Treasure?

So I recently went back to this apartment/gallery space. A new collection is on display. Anyone interested in purchasing some artwork composed entirely of a square piece of cardboard painted either solid black or solid white? They're total bargains at only $4,500 a pop! 

I would really love to meet the artist behind this collection and discuss its inspiration. Also, I'd be particularly interested in learning how the artist manages to sell their art for such a price because I want in!

An Overeager Assistant

NYC is a town known for its dog lovers. With approximately eight million people, the NYC Economic Development Corporation estimates that we share this space with roughly 600,000 dogs. Despite the large number of pet owners in New York, I find myself often disappointed as to how rarely I meet members of the canine genus during my investigations (I always assumed that the kind of people that get hysterical about mold are also the type that hate dirty, germ-y animals). Fortunately today was not such a day! This little guy, weighing in at a whopping three pounds of pure fluff, refused to leave me alone during a job in Bay Ridge. He'd bark incessantly the second I stopped paying him attention, and I was therefore "forced" to hold him in one arm during the entire inspection. I LOVE dogs and miss having one of my own. As a result I informed the owner at the end of my inspection that I had hired her dog as my new mold assistant and that he'd be coming home with me 'kay thanks bye! :)

The best part about my new assistant is that he's conveniently travel size! Easy to stuff in my mold backpack (KIDDING! Please do not call the Humane Society)

Let's get to WERQ!

Sleeping Strangers

Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife, damnit!

I don't know about you, but I don't particularly welcome the idea of a random stranger poking around my apartment while I sleep. I'm not weird, am I? I don't know, I guess we all must have different comfort thresholds for this, because it appears some people are A-okay with strangers rifling through their homes without feeling concerned enough to open their eyes. I've performed at least two or three inspections in which residents were not fully conscious. One time it happened when I was relatively new to the mold game; I was involved with some legal HPD thing (NYC Department of Housing Preservation & Development) in a low income housing development. I inspected the room of some sleeping teenage boy, in the dark!, while an HPD official and the kid's mom waited outside in the living room... Like seriously, what the fuck are you doing? It's 11 am on a Wednesday! Get your ass up! So, so awkward.

Last Friday I found myself in another slightly uncomfortable sleeping situation, but at least this one was a million times more legitimate. I was up in Riverdale performing an inspection for an extremely old woman. I guess she had recently been in some sort of accident and was having trouble moving, in addition to other more long term ailments. The woman greeted me, but just didn't have the energy to stay awake during the inspection. Thankfully I was not the only conscious body in the apartment, I had her friendly housekeeper for company. Before the lady had drifted off, I learned that she was super cool and friendly, and had an amazing terrace garden with the most spectacular view of Manhattan. We compared notes on our gardening likes and dislikes (I love deserts and have been working on growing my own cactus/succulents garden). I didn't want to be a total creep and take a million pictures of her garden, but check out these shots from her terrace. What a view!

So much green!

'Sup Manhattan

Boom! A section of my very own BADASS cactus garden! :)

Photo credits: WAFF-48 News, The Bed Intruder Song, Antoine Dodson

Perigrinating to Poughkeepsie

Last week I received a request to do a mold investigation upstate in Poughkeepsie, New York. The journey involved a two hour train ride on Metro North's Hudson Line. The expedition was breathtakingly beautiful and relaxing. It had been so long since I had left the concrete jungle of NYC and I thoroughly enjoyed the air's clean and refreshing scent. Unfortunately my mold inspection was quite the opposite. Thank god the apartment's resident wasn't home during my investigation - the entire place wreaked worse than a dumpster you'd find behind an Arby's on a 90 degree summer's day. Not sure I have any desire to meet the person who chooses to keep their house in such condition... Anywho, below are some photos taken along the way. Enjoy!

Couldn't have asked for a more gorge day!

Necessary bridge shot

This looks like a scene from the Lord of the Rings. I kept hoping to catch sight of a hobbit or two.

Andddddd this is the sticker I found on a banana I ate today

Don't Mind if I Do

I always am!

Growing up we're all (hopefully) taught not to talk to strangers, and that accepting food from them is absolutely out of the question. Life just isn't so in New York City. Regularly walking around any busy area at rush hour - Union Square, Madison Square Park, or Penn Station for example - will result in receiving some sort of free food product or other promotion at least once a week from one company or another. Among other things, I've personally received knock-off Ray Ban sunglasses from Pepsi, packets of Emergen-C, more bananas and granola bars than I can count from some church, and lipsticks from Cover Girl. Last summer Trojan caused quite a ruckus trying to give away free vibrators in the Flatiron. Today apparently Dove was giving out free cookies and cream chocolates. My coworker grabbed a huge pile of samples and so generously handed them out around the office. As any good chocoholic knows, Dove chocolates always come with some sort of unbearably cheesy "inspiration" inside the wrapper. Even though the messages are usually saccharinely sweet, I couldn't help but love the message inside my chocolate. If you can't read the picture above, it says, "Be the first to hit the dance floor". Way too perfect for the girl who constantly demonstrates Zumba moves in the office at 9 am. This Dove inspiration is now proudly taped to my cubicle wall. :)

Just saw The Great Gatsby (and before it hit theaters, yo!) and had to include a flapper dance pic

That's what I'm talking about

Photo credits: Green Park Inn

Subway Sightings: Where There's Always an (un)Willing Audience

Fun facts time! The New York City MTA includes:

• 468 Stations
• 21 Subway Lines + 3 Shuttle Trains
• 6,311 Individual Subway Cars (the number per subway train varies depending on the line)

As I'm sure you all are eager for more fascinating subway facts, have fun clicking HERE!

Any New Yorker can attest that the MTA is an integral part of our lives - I personally spend at least two hours a day riding the subway. And that's if I don't have any scheduled mold jobs. This  leads us to today's blog post which is dedicated to #3 on Buzzfeed's most recent NYC-themed viral article, "23 Signs You've Been Living in New York City Too Long": the subway performers. 

Thank god there is an unwritten rule for subway performers, "performers", peddlers, and beggars to lay off the harassment during the daily rush hour commute (it's way too crowded for that shit anyway). Non-rush hour daytime and evening trips are a whole other story. You are guaranteed at least one interruption per ride, usually more. Mind you, this is in addition to all of the performers in the subway stations themselves. Union Square for example is consistently host to at least three separate but simultaneous shows. 468 stations, 21 subway lines, and 6,311 cars certainly provide ample opportunity for hustling the masses. 

I've cried on the subway and I've vomited (twice) on the subway. I've also witnessed pretty much anything and everything on the subway - banjo, rap, cello, saw, bucket, magic, recorder, and Motown a capella performances to name a few - ranging from horrible to incredible. After recent events, I can now add to my list that I've been kissed by a (possibly homeless) stranger on the subway.

Last week, while riding the 2 train downtown from Harlem, a man seated on an amp graced my subway car with an extra long performance (its duration was approximately six stops) on his electric guitar. He was a rather lively man, receiving more than the standard amount of attention from an unusually receptive crowd. After several songs, the singer specifically singled me out and dedicated his own modified version of The Temptations' "My Girl" to "white girl in the grey coat". Lyrics went a little something like this:

I've got sunshine on the 2 train.
When it's cold outside I've got the month of May.
I guess you'd say
What can make me feel this way?
My white girl (white girl, white girl)
Talkin' 'bout my college educated white girl with the grey coat and pony tail...

Then he added in a bit of free style about me. I randomly remember something involving Jamaicans... Anyway, his next song was prefaced with, "If anybody can guess who sings this song, I'mma gonna kiss that white girl over there". Guess what, somebody correctly named the song's artist. And guess what else, he was not kidding. I quickly slapped my hands over my face as the man approached. I was shaking my head and saying no, no, that's okay, you really don't have to do this... Butttt, he did. Thankfully it was just the quickest and lightest of pecks on the back of my hand. Fortunately he seemed relatively clean and un-diseased, but regardless, I took a long, steaming shower the second I got home. 

I've just got all the luck

I will now leave you with another Buzzfeed article that is equally true of la vie quotidienne in this one of a kind crazy city, "48 Things You'll Only See in New York City". 

Photo credits: Pokemon

Street Spotting: Oh the Humanity

The advertisement on the side of the delivery truck pictured above almost caused a human pile-up during Midtown morning rush hour. While walking up Sixth Avenue at the tail end of my daily commute, I stopped in my tracks to do a double take at this truck. I had to verify that my peripheral vision was to be believed, and of course then take a picture once I had confirmation that my eyes were indeed working correctly.The whole incident resulted in causing four harried, sleep deprived people to run into me on that early Monday morning (sorry, my bad!). At least we now have proof - the king of class Ed Hardy has blessed the world with his own collection of wines. Intrigued and want to learn more? Good news! As any serious oenologist knows, a real website is not necessary to represent your brand, all you need is a solid Facebook page. The wine is described as:

Don Ed Hardy is known as "the godfather of modern tattoo" for his sophistication,  depth and sense of experimentation. A California native, Don Ed hardy is recognized around the world for his technical brilliance and mesmerizing imagery. Designer genius Chrisian Audigier has created a powerhouse lifestyle brand around the Ed Hardy images and now brings that brilliance to the palate of wine drinkers with a new line of wines from France adorned with the vibrant, rebellious images of the master tattoo artist.

Quick recap: Ed Hardy wine is for rEbElLiOu$ wine drinkers! No real information on the wines is actually provided... Well at least they're French, so they can't be bad, right?

I don't know how much faith we can put in the LA Times, although  the newspaper alleges that the guido-approved wine ain't half bad. (And apparently it's been around for a while? The article is dated 2009??)

All I know is that I don't even need to taste the Ed Hardy wine to know that it ain't got shit on the Hello Kitty wine that came out in 2010. Yes, of course I bought it. And yes, of course it was terrible. But look how cute it is!!!!!

Hello Kitty wine is the best shitty character wine ever, times a million, no comebacks. Take that, Ed Hardy 

Why am I not wherever this is??

Photo credits: Hello Kitty Wine, http://www.schemamag.ca/

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