And yet, I still continue to suck at life.

So you, blogger-nation, don't know this but the thing-of-which-I-must-not-speak fizzled into nothingness as he broke up with me before we even started dating. TRUTH.

Why, he did this I'm not sure because what I had said was 'Let me know. We'll stay in and watch a movie.'

I'm sorry and it may be because I'm old but I seriously thought staying in watching a movie was in 'Single' vernacular code for: Let's fuck because I'm afraid of commitment and do not want to go out into the public where people may see me. Apparently he thought differently. I'm not sure why?

So I've been brave. I've been resuming my normal schedule, which right now is not my normal schedule because I'm dealing with my mother's gaping, open wound twice a day and freaking because she's halfway running a fever and I'm scared to death she's going to DIE because that is how my life works. She'd be fine and then I'd trot my happy ass over there one AM to change her bandage and she'd be dead. Because I SUCK AT LIFE AND TO PROVE IT THEY'D KILL OFF MY MOM. Oh God I'm a mess.

So anyways, fast forward to this evening and the complication of tripe that is my emotional status right now and I make the ever prudent decision to invite the one person I know would go out to have a drink with me because I self-medicate like any adult person. Guess who shows up at the bar? The obtuse bar out of the way? OH IF YOU GUESSED COACHY TYPE PERSON AWARD YOURSELF 40-MILLION BONUS POINTS. I had even forgotten about him because I'd chatted up this HAWT undergraduate who had majored in Philosophy and thankfully I remembered some shit about teleological ontology. Seriously that is all I remembered. The actual phrase. I have no clue what it means. But he was interested in me because he waved at me when he left. I'm having roomie FB stalk him tomorrow. Roomie doesn't know this yet because he's in bed but he's graduating soon and he's majoring in philosophy and he is a total fucking hipster which I totally hate but he's suuuuuper cute and told me I wasn't old when I told him my real age. Plus he was this total ugly fat girl. I can say that because she was plumper than I and guess what ya'll? I apparently am hot bitch status. BOO-YAH. So Roomie: (The rest of ya'll ignore this part) He's at our alma mater, you know which expensive southern private school that is, and he's majoring in philosophy and Dr. Lewis is his major advisor, brunette, about 5'11, glasses, HAWT, probably interested in shit that Dr. Lewis would be interested in besides flax seed oil and silver plated things. So now that we're done with that we can continue our conversation about COACHY TYPE PERSON AND HIS OBVIOUS LACK OF TASTE.

It is one thing for him to show up at the bar that I frequent that is ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOUSE on the one night THAT I TOLD HIM WE GO THERE. It is another thing entirely for him to show up at the random bar out of the way on a Saturday night and then RUN THE FUCK OUT THE DOOR FOR HIS FRIENDS TO SETTLE HIS TAB. And maybe he's not cut up over me, that is completely possible. Then maybe if he wasn't he would have a sac and walk over to me and be like 'Hey Anna, how's it going?' like I did last week after the whole 'Hey I'm not looking for a relationship debacle?' And he was all like 'Why wouldn't we be cool?' That really is an admirable quality about you menfolk. You forget shit in 0.48 seconds. Oh I sent you a text message breaking up with you before we even went out, why in the world would we not be cool? I'll stand here awkwardly and stare longingly at your tits and kick myself and then proclaim 'WHY WOULDN'T WE BE COOL?' After I've approached and asked 'Hey, are we cool?'

Clearly he has not met me. I invented 'Hit it and quit it.' Seriously that new song 'Toot it and boot it.' I get royalties from that. If I wanted a real relationship I'd have one, why? BECAUSE I'm too damn stubborn to not have what I want. Yes, I bitch and moan about being single but you should all thank THE LORD ABOVE I am still single otherwise this blog would be much less funneh and much more 'OH GOD I AM GOING TO WITHER AWAY AND DIE!' because I'm in a an actual relationship. My favorite relationships are the one's I don't know I'm in until I'm preggers.

Oh damn, that's right. I'VE NEVER HAD ONE OF THOSE.

The point of this post being this: GO THE FUCK ON AND STAY AWAY FROM MY BARS. WE HAD A CONVERSATION ABOUT THIS AND YOU ARE CLEARLY AS FUCKED UP AS I AM SO WHY ARE WE DOING THIS? I don't go to your bar. LEAVE MY BARS ALONE.

UGH. OR AT LEAST GROW A SAC AND SAY HELLO. You're talking to a bitch in a romper.

I'M NOT INTIMATED BY THAT. MY RACK IS STILL BETTER THAN HERS AND WE KNOW THAT BECAUSE YOU VERY OBVIOUSLY RAN THE FUCK AWAY.

BOO-YAH BITCHES.

Except you don't really care do you? GOD MUST I STILL SUCK AT LIFE.

Mebbe I'll die soon.

Why is America obsessed with poop?*

You guys remember that '2 girls, 1 cup' video from a few years back right? Well here is the story of my viewing it. I had heard about it on the local radio show and they were planning this big event in which two of the morning show radio personalities were going to watch the video and they were going to videotape their responses. And there was a tidal wave of people calling in talking about how the radio personalities were going to flip and wouldn't be able to handle it. I promptly went home that afternoon and said to roomie 'There is this video on the internet that we need to watch. You queue it up and I'll be back in a few minutes and we'll watch it.' (This was back in the days of DSL so it took a minute.) I'm sitting on the couch catching up on the OC or something else soap-opera-y and my roommate walks into the living room and says to me: 'You cannot handle this.'

Do you know why I cannot handle it? BECAUSE apparently I am the only person left in the continental 48 that gags at the site of poop. I don't really think this is even an odd reaction. Poop is gross. Really gross. Thinking about it makes me want to pass out. I'm not really sure what in the hell I'm going to do when I do manage squirt life out of my vertical smile because I will not be able to change its diapers. Heaven forbid we go hippy dippy and do cloth diapers because I really may just roll over and die. Have I mentioned that poop is really, really gross?

Did you happen tonight's episode of Tosh.O by chance? Seriously, can he please make an episode without poop? PLEASE. I literally screamed at the top of my lungs tonight. Literally. A long, blood curdling scream. (And the sad part is no one came running. whomp whomp. Thanks for that Sex-on-Skates, I could have been being murdered.) I walk in the door after being gone all day and all evening and roomie says to me: 'I kept Tosh.O for you on the DVR. I think he meant this episode specifically for you.'

AND FOR SOME DUMB ASS REASON I WENT IN THE DAMN LIVING ROOM AND WATCHED HUMAN PEOPLE FETCH TURDS OUT OF THE TOILET AND SQUEEZE THEM ON A TV SHOW ON CABLE.

And then I yakked for 10 minutes.

Back to the '2 girls, 1 cup' video story: I proceed to argue with roomie for a few minutes about my hard-cor-edness and insist on watching the video. He finally agrees for what reason I assume is to shut me up. I made it about 7.2 seconds into the video and passed the fuck out. Just passed the fuck right on out. My brain simply could not take it.

I wake up to roomie cackling and we learn the real reason why he agreed to let me watch the video, because he thinks it's funny when I spaz about shit.

*Please ignore the fact that I have 2 different posts dedicated to diarrhea. They're really more so dedicated to cocaine and its causal effects. It's more of a scientific thing with me and at least I'm not actually showing you diarrhea. Hold on, I have to go puke again.

...

Anyways, cut me some slack. Shit is gross.

**I'm not sure why blogger is being douchy and not letting people post. Obvi it hates me. If I was a better person I'd go digging through the code of the blog and figure it out but I'm not there yet.

I wore heels to the surgeon's office today. I am 'That Girl.'

Christ Sakes alive ya'll I'm really pathetic these days. I seriously wore heels to go see my mother's surgeon today. Why do you ask?

Two reasons really:

1. HE'S HOT AS SHIT.

2. My toenails are all janky because I haven't had time to re-paint them. And I'm too broke to go get a pedicure and pay actual professionals to do it.

What? I didn't want him to see my janky toes and I was wearing my nice jeans because all of my bum-around jeans are dirty. I haven't had time to do laundry so I'm seriously scraping the bottom of the clothes barrel here; I couldn't wear my tennis shoes. Hence I wore my new neutral pumps. Because they're pretty and mad me feel better about my janky toes and having to drag my mother into see him yet again for what was supposed to be a relatively minor and easy surgery. Oops.

And guess what? He totally touched my shoulder and said he'd see me again soon.

Granted that could be because the woman, my mother, has been without a kidney for 21 days now and we've been to his office 5 times since she left the hospital. Yes, 5 times. (And now he's saying she might have to go back under. ugh. FML.) He probably does actually anticipate seeing me again soon as I can only imagine we'll back later this week.

Do you think I could get away with wearing a dress to his office? Or is that too much?

I think It may live in my closet.

Apparently while I was in blogger absentia the folks at Blogger/The Google went ahead and changed the format of the blog posting engine and now it will not let me blog from the Safari browser on my iPad. Not to worry, I think I have gotten around it. Maybe? If you're reading this then it apparently worked. If not, then you're not reading this and you're probably actually doing something meaningful with your life instead of reading about the tragedy that is my life.

Ahem.

It, yes IT, from that book It, lives in my closet. I know this because I just finished the book this afternoon after a good 3 weeks of slogging through the fucking thing. Good God it liked to have never have ended. But anywho last night I was sitting in bed reading trying to finish the last 100 pages and that is kind of the creepy part where they're crawling around in the sewers and that crazy-psycho kid that they all knew from when they were the 'Losers' (Who seriously would call themselves that and/or own up to that? They clearly have some psychological issues that need evaluating. I'll prove this point again later.) is chasing them around and hunting them down and shit. It is kind of Creepy. I'm sitting here reading this book silently wishing the damn IT thing would just hurry up and eat the stupid children already because really? Do we need yet another book with a happy ending? Aren't they more fun when the main characters get eaten at the end? I mean, we've clearly had enough time for adequate character development because the fucking book is over 1000 PAGES LONG. EAT THE DAMN KIDS ALREADY. IT is clearly not very effective at being a monster because it has had 900 pages of opportunity to eat these clearly 'affected' children and still IT cannot get it done, and we're supposed to feel sorry for these children? WHAT-E-VER. But anyways I'm sitting here wading through the muck as the children wade through shit (This right here is a brilliant case for why they all need to be eaten and/or committed. Seriously who wades through shit? Not this girl. Heaven forbid I be in that club, which I never could have been in anyways because I'm way too cool, because I would have been the one that would have said 'You know. If a giant spider thing wants to eat the children of this town then maybe the children of this town should be a little more introspective and figure out what is wrong with them because I am NOT wading through raw sewage to save anymore douchebag little children. FUCK THAT NOISE.') and then WHAM! Something falls off the shelf in my closet, and we all know that my closet is prone to committing suicide but that wasn't the creepy part.

The creepy part was watching the collection of unused hangers that I keep on the lower shelf sway back and forth for what seemed like forever. I have UNUSED HANGERS IN MY CLOSET.

You know what It would look like to me? An empty closet without clothes, shoes and purses. That right there is truly scary. But it was creepy because the hangers did sway back and forth for what seemed like forever. Like IT was taunting me because I clearly need to go shopping and buy more things. That and it was 3:30 in the morning and something clearly and obviously leaped off the shelf in my closet. I still don't know what it was. I haven't been in there to look yet.

"When you say 'we' do you mean 'me'?

So my mom called me last night and had decided that she was indeed going to survive so I can blog again.

As some of you may or may not remember Mom had her left kidney removed two weeks ago today and boy what a long, strange trip it's been.

Here is a synopsis of the past two weeks from my point-of-view:

Mom, get back in the bed. No Mom, you need to stay in the bed. Stay in the bed. STAY IN THE BED. I am not yelling at you. NO I am Not yelling. I AM NOT YELLING AT YOU. GET BACK IN THE BED. STAY IN THE BED! Will you please eat something? Wake up Mom. Eat this. Please? Will you please eat this? Eat this. You need to eat. YES YOU DO. EAT THIS! Mom, please get back in the bed. Yes I am sure that the Duke Power man does indeed mind that you don't have on pants. Mom, it is 2 PM, you cannot go outside without pants on. Mom, come back here. MOM GET BACK IN THE BED. GET BACK IN THE BED! Mother, please, you cannot go to jail with only one kidney. You'll get shanked in general population and then you'll need my kidney and I'm kind of partial to it. MOTHER! MOTHER, GET BACK IN THE BED! I AM NOT YELLING AT YOU, I JUST WANT YOU TO GET BACK IN THE BED. WHY DO I WANT YOU BACK IN THE BED? SO YOU DONT DIE! Please, get back in the bed? Please? FINE! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO. Are you cooking? Did you make something? YOU CANNOT COOK IF YOU'RE TAKING THOSE PAIN PILLS! YOU ALMOST BURNED DOWN THE DAMN HOUSE! GET BACK IN THE BED! 

On and on ad nauseum.

Here is a hint: Do not let pretty people operate on you or your loved ones. Seriously, if your surgeon walks in the room and you have to restrain yourself from launching yourself at said surgeon, genitals first, tell them to go ahead and put the scalpel down. I'm not saying that Mother's surgeon wasn't capable. She survived her surgery which I suppose is their number one goal. He also removed her kidney, which was the number two goal. I think he quit after two goals because it's only been two weeks and we've been back to his office twice, he's called in no less than 6 prescriptions and I am now confident that I could stand shoulder to shoulder with any wound-care technician in the area and do just as well.

My Mother is now the proud owner of a gaping, 6-inch hole in her gut. She popped her stitches and rather than sew it right back up he declares yesterday 'We're going to pack it twice a day for the next 4 weeks and re-assess then.' We, he says. We. I'm sorry but I didn't see him this morning bright and early when I was standing over my mother with gauze, sterile saline and a pair of forceps because if I had I'm reasonably sure that I would have launched myself at him, genitals first, but only so that my vagina could beat him up and then I would have taken advantage of him, but totally beat him up first. Only because my vagina is crying on the inside because I'm reasonably sure that my sex life is dying a long, slow, withering death. I now get to spend no less than an hour a day with my mother and I'm reasonably sure that won't work in the whole 'Hey, you wanna go to my place?' 'I'm sorry, I can't. I have to get up in the morning and go pack my mother's gaping wound in her gut. Maybe next time?' dialogue. Riiiiiiiight. That's my mojo working.

Not to mention that in 4 weeks after seeing my mother twice a day repeatedly I'll be ready for the funny farm and no one likes a crazy girl. No one. I mean I have enough issues as it is, I'm not sure that prolonged exposure to my parental unit will help any of that.

I, not we, am suffering this burden because I'm happy to do it. Because I love my mother. I swear I do. I just don't think it's fair for Dr. Pretty-Surgeon-Pants to say 'we' when he means 'me.' 

A Synopsis of the entire Star Wars saga and some thoughts

So because of unnamed reasons I'm stuck at home tonight bored to tears and I thought I would blog about Star Wars because my roommate keeps making me watch all 92 of them over and over again because for some reason they're on repeat on the Spike TV channel. I will begin with the 1st one which apparently is really the 4th one. I'm not sure how George Lucas has stretched the space/time continuum to fit his literary/theatrical needs but he has.

Star Wars 1/4: A New Hope, or something.

So there is this kid and he comes by these droids in the desert from these wierdo people and the one droid has a bad hologram, which by the way if you pay careful attention is in color. Let me ask you this, how in the hell did they have color holograms in the 70's when they made these movies? Hmmm? I'm just saying. Anywho this kid is a whiny bitch especially when the storm troopers kill his family who he was just mad at 10 minutes previous. He and this old dude run off to town and go to the bar, like any sane person would do if he came home to find his favorite aunt and uncle fried hard. Here is where the movie actually gets good because Han Solo shows up and he is really is the only reason why I continue to sit through these movies. Yummy yummy Han. Come to find out they have to go rescue some dumb ol' princess who gets her home planet blown the fuck up because she's got a horrible poker face. They get to the ship and Darth Vader tries to send them out with the trash which doesn't work because I think R2 saves them. I don't rightly know. Then Obi Wan gets in a brawl with Vader and to be such a damn amazing Jedi warrior he sure goes down pretty quick and pulls a witch from the Wizard of Oz and disintegrates which is a pretty handy trick. Some other shit happens and I think this is the movie where Luke uses the force to blow up the death star, yay! I think? Honestly all the scenes without Han Solo I'm pretty much lost at. But boo-ya, foreshadowing, like any good bureaucracy, they have 2.

Star Wars 2/5: I forget the name of this one, but it's the best one.

This is the best one mostly because at the end when the bounty hunters catch Han Solo to take to Jabba, they put him in the carbonate shirtless. This is all that really matters but because some other shit does happen I'll tell you about it.

Rebel rebellion is happening in a cold, cold place with a stupid name. For lack of a better name we'll call it Canadia. Imagine that, rebels rebelling. They sort of win and Luke has to spend the night in a stinky elk-type thing because he cannot stay out in the elements in Canadia as it's too damn cold. He actually cuts it open and crawls inside it. Actually inside it. I'm not sure why he didn't just send up a flare and call his homies to come get him with the 'force.' He is pretty dumb. Then he runs off to someplace called Degoba (sp?) to find Yoda who does a good job as functioning as comic relief. Degoba is a swampy, rainy place and for some reason R2 is left out in the rain and weather for their entire visit and really needs a bath by the end of the movie. The other weird thing in this movie is that while Han, Leia, Chewie and C3PO are running from the Imperial Battlecruisers by hiding in the gut of a cave monster, Luke has supposedly spent weeks and weeks with Yoda. There really is no time continuity here. You're led to believe that the crowd on the Millennium Falcon is having a harrowing few hours and Luke is spending ages in a swamp moving rocks with his mind. Ya okay. Fast forward, some quick thinking by Han gets them out of the battlecruiser's sights and onto some mining facility (How they mine anything that far in the air is beside me?) and surprise, surprise his old friend sells him out. Luke has some puss ass vision like dear, old Dad did and runs off to save them and really doesn't do anything resembling saving them. In fact Lando is the one doing the saving here because he was the one doing the betraying and he picks Luke up off the rails, they never find his hand, and off they go to get Han back from Jabba. Oh yeah, and Darth Vader is Luke's father and there is an awkward Luke/Leia kiss. I personally have always thought Luke was of the homogay persuasion but that's just my take on the whole thing.

Star Wars 3/6: A Waste of Time or A Bunch of Midgets Get Jobs

Somehow this rag-tag band of dumb-asses manages to rescue Han but only because Chewie is awesome. But I must say Jabba was pretty damn smart to make R2 hand out drinks. R2 seems like he could make a good cocktail. I'm just sayin...

Then there are the Ewoks. This is the quite possibly one of the stupidest movies ever made. Long story short, the rebels tromp through the woods with midgets dressed as bears, which seems really denigrating to midgets in general, and win. Yay. Luke ends up turning his father back to the good side; the emporer kicks the bucket and Leia ends up with Han in some wierdo coronation/wedding/medal awarding ceremony. The only cool scene in this movie is the squid general.

Star Wars 1/4: The Phantom Menace

I don't really know how all this drama starts but this guy Qui Gon ends up on a planet named Naboo where the Trade Federation, green people with giant heads, have invaded and their Queen who is somehow elected, is in need of an army. So he, Obi Wan and Jar-Jar Binks, the clumsiest fool ever to walk the galaxy, go to the underwater city to recruit help and almost get eaten by a fish. They somehow manage to get the king of Waterworld to agree to help them fight the droid army. Then they go to Tatooine for some reason and end up meeting Anakin Skywalker, a petulant child that is clearly in need of a strong male influence. This entire mess could have been avoided if Anakin's mom would have shacked up with some dude that had enough good sense to beat that child on a regular basis. Qui Gon fights Darth Maul (I think?), a stand in for that rap group ICP, and wins. Anakin wins his freedom by winning a pod race and runs off to be a Jedi on that planet that is one big city. Somehow he manages to get Padme, queen of Naboo, to fall in love with him as an 8 year old child and all of the adults in his life ARE OKAY WITH THIS. Uuuuuuuum? Oh and there is a fight on the plains of Naboo between the water people and the Trade Federation Droid army. I don't know who wins.

Star Wars 2/5

I'm still confused about this one. Some shit happens and Padme and Anakin get married.

Star Wars 3/6: Revenge of the Sith

Okay, the emporer has cloned Jango Fett (which by the way is the funnest name ever: Jango.) and made an army. Count Duku buys the farm and General Greivous, who is part droid and part lizard with 4 arms has a pretty cool fight with Obi Wan. The emporer wants Anakin to be his liaison with the Jedi Council and the Jedi Council wants him to be a double agent and all he really wants to do is fuck so in the end the entire universe gets fucked. Padme shows up preggers and then ol' Skywalker starts having visions of his beloved buying the farm during childbirth. He goes to Yoda and Yoda pretty much says 'Dumbass, this is why we don't have wives' without really saying that. He's pretty unapologetic because he's Yoda and totally awesome-sauce. Anakin keeps freaking the fuck out and they don't let him be on the council and he has a grade A hissy fit and goes sulking to the Emporer who says 'Come to the dark side and you can bite off my toenails' or something which he does like a dumb ass. At some point Yoda and the Emporer get in a fight in the senate and that is a cool scene mostly because Yoda is pretty limber for a 900 year old dude. At some point the emporer throws Samuel Jackson out a window because Sam fucks his face up, because after all Sam is a bad mother-fucker. For some reason Anakin goes to the volcano planet, because that seems like such a lovely place to go. Oh yes, let us go to Hell, that would be lovely and of course Obi Wan follows him and so does his bitch ass wife who is getting really annoying by this point. They fight, Anakin ends up in the lava. He is saved by the emporer who turns him into Darth Vader and ol' whiny pants Padme squirts out her children which are delivered by a robot that says 'Oooooba' and lo and behold! There are two. Because they have the technology to have light sabers but no sonograms. Sure. Padme is too distraught over the loss of her husband to the dark side to give a rat's ass about her children which is really sickening and just gives up on her will to live so she dies. Damn, there's a loss and the remaining Jedi masters separate the children and send them away. Yoda goes into hiding and Obi Wan goes to spend the rest of his days on a desert planet to watch over a child that ends up being just as much a pain in the ass as his damn father and he even has sufficient male supervision. Go figure. I guess it's just bad genes.

So that ladies and gents is my synopsis of the entire Star Wars saga in a blog post. And for all of you Star Wars buffs out there I really don't care which parts are out of order and such because it doesn't honestly matter as it isn't real life.

That's no hobo, that's just Anna.

Guess what guys?

I have outdone myself yet again in the realm of 'Shit, I really did that.'

Last night roomie and I wandered across the street to the bar as we're known to do to celebrate Thursday, a wonderful day. We insituted our normal 2 drinks only by drink number 3 we had forgotten our rule. So we were drunk. I'm still not sure how in the world I got that way because I was fine and then all of a sudden I was dr-u-nk as Heeeeeeeeeeell.

On a side note I did see coachy type person, the other half of the thing of which I cannot mention, and thank God I was a sane person at that point in time. Let's just hope he never reads my blog. We made plans to see one another later in the weekend. Grin. Aaaaaaand here's the awesome-sauce part: When he came over to talk to me he was, wait for it, agrin. :D Roomie said it was really cute because he kept having to catch himself to stop grinning like a damn fool. If roomie says it was cute then it was really cute because roomie is not the type to like cute things. I didn't notice as I was trying really hard to be a normal person and I was dr-u-nk so I had to concentrate doubly hard. You know, being hungover isn't nearly as bad when you're all atwitter and aflutter. Now, pretend you did not read any of this because it is the thing of which I cannot mention. And I'm sorry for gushing. Kind of.

(One a side, side note: Is too early to break out the Sex-Pie? I made an apple pie tonight for dinner for some friends that came over and I need to make a second one because pie shells come in twos. I know, I know, I just didn't have time to make the crust. So what do you guys think? Too early?)

Then we meet some people that live in our building and we head back across the street and up to the pool to hang out and drink Coors Light. Because that is always a good idea. Putting cheap beer on top of Bombay Sapphire. Yum.

At some point in the evening I realize that it is waaay late and I need to go to bed. So I tell roomie and peoples I'm going downstairs to go bed. Roomie asks if I have my keys. I don't know what I told him but I didn't have them. Why we don't keep our door unlocked I don't rightly know. It's not like he hasn't met me and doesn't know I lose my keys every 20 feet.

Somehow in the time it took me to come down from the pool on the roof to the tenth floor I forget that roomie is upstairs at the pool. I begin to pound on the door and get unnecessarily mad at roomie for not getting up out of bed to come let me in. I knock and pound and cuss and knock and pound and cuss and finally just lay down in the floor in the hall. Classy, I know.

Round about 4 AM roomie wanders down and finds me, collects me and puts me to bed. Thank God he did because I really don't think I'd ever recover from the shame of being found, still drunk mind you, in the hall in the morning by Sex-on-Skates. Just so you're aware there are no homeless people in our building, just drunk people that cannot get in their apartment.