Confessions of A Naughty Girl

My Maintenance Man Thinks I'm A Ho

Despite being the dead of winter (at least still so in Chicago, since we like to skip spring and dive straight into deadly heat in June), I discovered an unsavory ant problem in my bathroom yesterday. Where those little arachnof*ckers came from, I have no idea, but all of the sudden, I go to brush my teeth and see an ant in my sink. An ant who must have liked it so much he cranked up the volume on the little ant boombox, bought a couple of pony kegs, and threw a party for a hundred of his closest friends.

Well, anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I don't like creepy things. Namely in the categories of bugs and men. So I called my current boyfriend (okay, the building maintenance man), and asked him to come over and exterminate. Wow, that sounded sexual. While I'm on the topic of maintenance guys, why are they always so creepy? It's like you're hard up to find a regular, nice guy like Tim "The Toolman" Taylor to work on a building. What, did I not get the memo that mandates that all maintenance men must have a lazy eye, a few missing teeth, a carton of Newport Menthols in his pocket, and be in possession of at least three pairs of Wrangler overalls? I digress.

My apartment has a number of pictures up. I like pictures. They make me happy. I am narcisstic and nostalgic. Sue me. In these photos are a few male friends who are completely different people, but oddly enough, look enough alike in the photographs for one to assume they are the same person. And my maintenance man likes to leave me little notes on the kitchen countertop once he's come in to fix things. So when I got home last night, I see a note that says the following (verbatim - spelling errors and all):

"I don't know why there were ants, but I cleand it up. I had to move some of your stuff to the nightstand. I left you some Rade in case you need to spray again. By the way, your boyfrend looks like a nice guy. He must be very lucky. ;-) Lou"

Um, okay. What? I was wondering where he was getting the last two sentences from, until I figured he had mistaken the pictures for the same guy, who he assumed was my boyfriend. But lucky? Well, probably a figure of speech.

Until I discovered that, in my haste yesterday morning, I had forgotten to put a specific sex toy back in its hiding place before I left for work, and left it on my bookshelf/nightstand next to my bed. The same bookshelf/nightstand where he moved my Pill, my toothbrush, and my face wash. So I'm sure that if he was taking time to look at pictures of my nonexistent boyfriend, and move my Pill to my nightstand, and write me notes with pictures of winking smiley faces, that he had to have noticed the pornographic Toys R Us that was open for business on my bookshelf next to my bed.

Great, at least I'm fueling some hot dreams for my maintenance guy. There's my contribution to society.

posted by KA @ 9:35 PM