As I get ready to depart this exquisite model of WTF architecture, I’d like to take some time to look back on just how jacked up this house really is. I can’t cover it all in one entry; we all don’t have six hours. So, I’d like to focus on this fabulous dream kitchen my landlord left me.
That’s okay, just get out your machete and make your way to the front door. But you really need to be careful. I don’t want you to fall in the sinkhole on your way here, okay? My renters’ insurance doesn’t cover random acts of stupidity on behalf of the landlord.
I have a designer kitchen. No, really. The designer just happened to be drunk as hell and completely insane. He was also on a bit of meth and possibly Thorazine at the time. Anyway, I’m going to show you the two sides of my kitchen, and I want to know if anyone else can spot what’s wrong with these two pictures. Here’s picture number one:
Here’s picture number two:
Spot it yet? I’ll let you think about it for a while. In the mean time, you’ve all met the unfinished atrocity that passes for a breakfast bar in this den of ruin:
My dear landlord was supposed to top this bad boy off with a nice, black granite counter top over 2 years ago. I’m sure it would have gone just smashingly with the counters pictured above? Oh, did you notice it yet? Go ahead; take one more look if you haven’t.
No, your eyes are NOT playing tricks on you. The counters are different. There are only two countertops in this kitchen, and they do not match. Not even close. No, the supposed contractor landlord MacGuyvered an entire kitchen out of remnants from Home Depot and faulty wiring. I just wish I could be here to see the looks on the prospective tenants’ faces when they see this shit. I should tape it and put it on YouTube. Of course, their reactions to the counters (or lack thereof) may not be as priceless as their reaction to this:
This is the stove hood. It took over a year of complaining, a month of withholding rent and a threat to call the housing code people to get it installed. Fat lot of good that did. Now I have a faulty hood that drips grease, doesn’t really pull up smoke and looks swell with its exposed wood and aluminum tape. Here’s the close up, because I want you all to chuckle yourselves to sleep tonight.
I’m walking around on slightly used linoleum. Does anybody in his or her right mind use linoleum anymore? I would take a picture of it, but the effect is this: it looks like I never ever, ever, EVER cleaned the floor in two years. It’s scuffed, scratched, has permanent dirt ground in and looks like it should have been retired six years ago. Who remodels the kitchen and puts beat-up, shit linoleum scavenged from a house built in 1967 in it? Seriously? Just because the shop calls it retro doesn’t make it valuable or worth looking at. At least the shitty linoleum looks better than the failed backsplash.
This is tile. It’s swamp green tile. Nobody, not even the landlord, seems to know where this was supposed to go. Was it the bathroom? The missing backsplash? The floor to Crackhead Contractors Secret Headquarters? We don’t know. The landlord doesn’t know. He does know one thing: he will not remove it. No, this is where his unfinished projects come to die. The one exception to this is the unfinished project which is my upstairs bathroom. He never actually sealed the grout on the shower, and now we effectively can’t use it. He insists we can. No, I don’t want to live with mold slowly devouring another room in this hovel until I escape. In the mean time, anybody want to help me clean off this “workbench”? I think if I just get some of this stuff off of here, the landlord might get the hint that he should finish some projects before the new tenants become another statistic in the mental asylum.
My house hunting expedition continues. Wish me luck. While I’m awaiting application approvals, maybe I’ll just go wash the delicates. Now, where did that laundry sink go?
Oh, fuck. Well, at least I have a dishwasher.