It’s been awhile since my last blog. But it’s also occurred to me that many entertaining things have happened in my life.
If you are familiar with where I live, you are likely familiar with the maintenance guy that sloths around pretending to look busy. I want to say he means well and is just a friendly guy – however after a semi-recent elevator ride, I have found myself dodging him, hitting the “door close” button and speed-walking past him more often than not.
When I first met him, he was just a nice, helpful guy. He’d leave my packages inside the apartment (yes, I signed a form saying it was ok) and let me in when I was locked out at ridiculous hours (read: midnight) due to my own flustered memory. No, not drunkenness. And I am offended you thought that. (Admit it, you’re a lush.)
Recently, my Grandma has taken to sending me a monthly card to say “wuddup,” which I totally dig since I love mail of the snail-variety. After making my daily stop to see what the Post-Fairy had left me, I hopped in the elevator heading up.
FYI: My mom notes that I need to limit the details I give you blog-stalkers, since it’s public and you never know when someone will map out who/where/how you are based on your blog. That being said, I feel that mentioning “up” in regards to my elevator ride does not give anything away, other than that I do not, in fact, live in a cavern connected by crazy elevators. How awesome would that be though?
I diverge. So, I am in the elevator with said maintenance man (MM) and an Asian couple tearing into what looks like a card that could POSSIBLY contain money. Refusing to look up, or make direct eye contact with anyone – because to be honest, I didn’t want to make conversation – I now wish I would have had my ear buds in. The conversation was as follows:
MM – “Whatcha got there? A birthday card? Is it your birthday?”
Me (head still down) – “Nope. Just a card from my Grandma.”
MM – “Oh, that’s too bad I was just about to start spankin’ ya.”
Me (holding back a gag) – “Keep dreamin.”
MM – “Your parents said it was ok…”
Then the doors opened and I quite literally exited with a sprint. Luckily it was my floor.
I am not sure if the Asian couple was going with a “we don’t understand” approach or more of the “we are laughing at the inside” – either way they were also statuesque and avoiding eye contact with all parties. Or at least I imagine so, since I couldn’t look anywhere other than my toes.
That night I did call to confirm with my mother that she had, in fact, not given MM permission to spank me on, around or after my birthday. She had not. He is now not only extremely creepy – but he’s also a liar. And no one wants a creepy liar letting them into their home at midnight.
Anyone know a hide-a-key that blends with beige?