If you live in an apt, you've probably called the maintenance staff to repair something in your apt. Most of the time, when you call in a maintenance order, workers fix your problem while you're away at work.

The workers at my complex are a bit on the dingy side. One worker in particular gives me the heebie jeebies. When I'm out running around the complex, he drives by me at least eight times in his red utility truck. He wears these stalker glasses and smiles like a pervert. Sometimes, I fear that when I'm away at work, he enters my apartment to roll around in my bed. I can picture him checking through my drawers, opening my closets and looking into my fridge.

Yesterday, I called in a work order for my bathroom sink because my long black hair and toothpaste scum were keeping water from draining. It took me two weeks to call the office to get the sink fixed. I was afraid creepyworker was going to sift through my underwear and do improper things to them. I couldn't wait longer than two weeks; a sink filled with dirty water outweighed my paranoia of creepy repairguy.

Just in case creapyworker touched my delicates while I was away, I'm going to go handwash them in the sink.

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It's Time to Move Out of Singledom when:

One of the only-spanish-speaking housekeepers tells you that she has an unwed son and wants to bring in a picture of him for you.

I was on my way to the bathroom next door, but had to veer away since Roberta was busy doing her sanitizing jig. I figured, I'll kill two birds with one stone by relieving my body from internal pressure and warming myself up with a hot cup of nasty coffee.

I was clomping up the stairs to the third floor, when low and behold, there was cuteguy (formerly known as hotguy). He held the door open for me and I thanked him with the biggest smile I could muster. I mean, I had to go to the bathroom real bad and I was in no state to flirt.

I am trying to look past his weird shoes and his fleece jacket. I will assume that his peacoat was at the cleaners and the shoes that would have matched his outfit were too dirty to wear this morning.

And some people wonder why I'm single.

I can't fit into my pants.

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel that your button-up or zippered clothing fit only after you pull it up a little and hold in your breath?

I blame these times on my period. It doesn't matter if my period happened just a week ago and there's no chance in hell that I'm getting PMS again. I will not accept that fact that I am gaining weight.

Damn you, biology. Damn you for my periodic bloatedness and making me fear that the snaps on my Jcrew chinos will break off if I sit in my chair.

Ok, I feel like a total nutcase going upstairs to get ice, but I don't have a freezing machine in my office. I went to the third floor, didn't even stop to talk to Reggie or check out psuedo-hotguy, and walked straight into the break room. While I opened the fridge to get some ice cubes, hotguy walks in to do some "photocopying."

Hmm.. I did see him stand up in his room was I walked by...you think he's stalking me now?

A guy who returns affection immediately kills any fond and/or sexual feelings had for him.

This morning, I went to the third floor to get some ice for my Diet Dr. Pepper. I stopped at Reggie's desk, not to stalk boy, but to actually talk with Reginald about fabric for my duvet. Anywho, right when I started speaking, hot boy got up from his cubicle and went to "get a drink." I glanced at him since I hadn't seen his face since the encounter in the break room.

Okay. Maybe that time when he was filling up his cup at the cooler, he appeared hot because he was not directly facing me. He had to bend down to retrieve water, so I only saw his face from a side/upside down view.

If hot boy would refrain from standing up straight, he will remain my stalkee. If not, then I'm going to have to find another victim.

The lesson we learned here is: The position of your crush's face must be full-frontal or his appearance will deceive you.

If you're a fan of Orbit gum, but hate how the packet falls apart, help my petition, "Orbit Needs to Redesign their Packaging Cause". Go to the following site: Orbit comments. Tell the Wrigley's big wigs that you want them to make a new carton for the tasty and juicy sticks of gum. I did and this is what they mailed me in return: their response letter!
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Wow. Looks like I have a lot of things on my mind today. Enjoy it, my friends, because I'm sure the well will run dry soon.

I went to stalk upstairs hot guy this morning and stopped to talk with Reginald, his cube neighbor. Reginald and I recapped our weekends and chatted about the wedding he attended on Saturday. Hot guy was in his cube and I could see part of his arm through the plexiglass. This school is flowing with money because I've never seen cubes with "windows."

As Reggie gave me the details of his friend's wedding dress, hot guy leaned back in his chair to do a "stretch" and checked out the person his cubemate was talking with. It was me! A few minutes later, he did another 'leaning of the chair.'

Maybe hot guy is interested in his stalker?
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One of the most horrifying things about being in the working world is wearing hosiery. I hate anything that covers my legs or prevents my pores from receiving adaquet air supply.

Well, I have come to a happy medium with this growing-up-having-to-wear-ugly-crap situation. I wear thigh highs instead of the uncomfortable full-on leggings with the suffocating waistband.

Lately, my thigh highs have been causing me immense grief. Thigh highs are held up on the leg by sticky material. After a few wears, the material no longer adheres to the leg, which causes my hosiery to fall down while I walk. It is quite embarrassing being a 20-something, walking along the halls, and having to stop to pull up my stockings. Men stop to stare and women pause to leer.

On my way to accounting early this morning, I spotted a desk full of rubberbands. Eureka!, I thought to myself. I took a rubberband, ran into the break room, and stuck my leg through the elastic band. My right thigh high is now held up by the grace of God and a thick band of rubber.

I just hope I don't lose circulation in my right leg.
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Roberta, my housekeeping lady at work, says I look nice today. I'm glad the custodial staff approves of my fashion tastes. Now, if only I could get my hands on some dark blue shirts and matching blue pants, my warddrobe would be complete.

I just called Blockbuster to see if they were selling previewed Matrix Reloaded dvds. Ben informed me that it will be another couple of weeks before they would sell used Matrix Reloaded, but that they were having a deal with the brand new dvds. Customers who bring in any old dvd will get the Matrix Reloaded for only $12.99. That is a great deal because Wal-Mart and everywhere else sells it for over $20.

I asked Ben, "I can bring in any crappy or old dvd?" Without hesitation Ben replied, "Yes, any crappy or old dvd. Just make sure it's not pornography."

I didn't know porno came in disc format. I'm used to seeing worn-out VHS tapes labeled "Beauty and the Bestality" kept behind the Scarface and Goodfellas DVDs . The adult entertainment industry execs and porn stars must be going high-class these days.