Gus, I am so aghast at your unwanted housesitter and your inability to evict him unaided due to Homeowning While Black that I find myself forced to cobble together a new not-a-word in order to adequately convey the expression on my face. I'm sitting here reading the thread, slack-and-flabberjawed.
Xander ,'Get It Done'
Natter 32 Flavors and Then Some
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I think if I came home from a long trip to find a stranger who had taken possession of my house I would just sit down on the spot and DIE.
I have no idea how I'd react. I'd like to think it would involve a large stick, or perhaps one of the knives, but it's hard to say. It would probably take me on the order of minutes if not quarter-hours to actually believe it was happening.
"This is the sort of thing that happens to Gus, not me!"
Famous last words.
I think if I came home from a long trip to find a stranger who had taken possession of my house I would just sit down on the spot and DIE.
This doesn't strike me as a robust response.
You want robust? Go get ita.
I'm still working on how difficult it's got to be to set a shopping cart on fire.
I am thinking, blowtorch.
I think if I came home from a long trip to find a stranger who had taken possession of my house I would just sit down on the spot and DIE.
I would snap, and not in that lovely spring peas way but in that first ten minutes of a horror movie way. I have a thing about my personal space/property, and the voluntariness of my sharing it.
I'm still working on how difficult it's got to be to set a shopping cart on fire.
It was a shopping cart with some clothes and scrap wood in it.
Timelies all!
Gus! Sorry you had to deal with the squatter in your house.(I'm not a Scotch drinker, but I will mourn the loss of the Really Good Scotch with you.)
It would probably take me on the order of minutes if not quarter-hours to actually believe it was happening.
Seriously. That was the feeling. "This is not real. Okay, maybe it could be real. O, crap. This is real."
I want to admit that I would do as Betsy would, but then I remember my dream last night and I am not so sure. I dreamt that a glossy blond couple in an SUV coasted through a red light and almost ran over my baby brother and me. I took off running after them and punching the SUV and woke Hec up at 5:30 snarling, "Fuck you! You have a RESPONSIBILITY!"
Apparently I'm a lot surlier and more territorial in my sleep. This bodes ill for anyone who tries to move in while I'm napping.