Kat's douchebag boyfriend apparently lacks the ability to go out and *do things* on his own, so while his girlfriend is at work he stays in our apartment in his boxers. Today he cooked eggs while scratching his crotch as poor Angela wheezed on the sofa (she has the flu). And then he left pans and scraps of egg all over the counter.
Oh Haha, aren't you such a cute boy, you're just so delightfully messy and laid-back right? SCRUB THAT COUNTER AND GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR APARTMENT, DOUCHEBAG.
Work was challenging today. I spent about an hour updating the Quickbooks files to match the new leases. I wrote up a lease and signed it for a new tenant. Pretty sure that lease is not legally binding because I'm not legally an employee. But whatever. I just follow mein Fuhrer's orders. Then I had to check Eamonn's calculations for his personal financial statement. It took me forever to reformat that, because it was all in "text" form and not "numbers". So editing the numbers was impossible without going through EVERYTHING and converting it, and then the rows and columns were all different sizes and omg it was such a mess. I felt better afterward when Keith looked over my shoulder and went "Oh Lord is that his personal financial statement? Lord, do I hate that file."
I also had to check the Escrow analyses for some of his new properties. I found a lot of errors. I almost think he planted them for me in order to test my ability.
The Escrow analyses were really difficult because I, well, had no idea how Escrow worked until today. Thankfully I was alone in the office long enough to Google-BS my way to a basic understanding. In an attempt to cover up my incompetency, I made his presentation SUPER cool looking on Excel. I also put in a bunch of formulas to make it more professional.
My plan backfired. Eamonn came back and was so impressed with my knowledge of Escrow that he decided I would be the person to present this spreadsheet to the bankers. FUTURE FAIL.
And oh, the irony of running to CVS to pick up some chicken noodle soup for your sick flatmate, only to get the sick cashier who is barely able to stand up. And then have that cashier cough, blow her nose, and then rub her dirty paws all over the soup cans. I wiped them with bleach wipes as soon as I got home.
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It is now Wednesday. Has that guy been kicked out yet? He makes me want to "vom" too.
ReplyDeleteI think he left this afternoon. At any rate, Kat came out of her room and he wasn't on her heels like a whipped poodle the way he usually is, so I assume he's on his plane back to who-the-Hell-cares-where.
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