Saturday night after getting my one (white) friend from Mississippi to take me out to IKEA - I paid gas and dinner for him; we went to this restaurant called "Iraqi Kebab" that we saw on the drive out there, my beef couscous main dish was okay, but the eggplant soup was dynamite - we caught a country-western band at an Appalachian bar near me, and after we left and he went to head home, I went to that one bar with the plywood sign out front, and as it turns out, Phyllis was working.
She said they asked her to move from her new apartment, because there's been some vandalism since she moved in - someone broke the glass in a fire extinguisher case, and someone overturned a potted plant in the hallway on the next floor down - and they think it was her, since nothing like that had happened before she moved in. She says it's shit, but if they're going to treat her like that, she wants to move anyways, and at least they're giving her her deposit back.
I suggested some other places in the neighborhood where I had seen signs out advertising rooms for rent, and she said she'd look into them, but she needs a small place where they don't do credit checks because she's never had a credit card or gotten into trouble that way, but her sister once put her utility bills in her name and so of course she refused to pay them, and so she ruined her credit.
Friday, May 7, 2010
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