a blog without purpose

Welcome to Oakland…

You know how in really shitty Lifetime movies some girl moves to L.A. or New York City with aspirations of becoming someone famous or some shit like that? She says goodbye to her family and strikes out on her own, gets a crappy apartment, looks for a job to make rent while still pursuing her true dream. Something awful and tragic happens, but she finds support from an unexpected friend. She usually falls in love and suddenly she’s a huge success by some random chance.

Yeah, moving to California was like telling George R. R. Martin to make some edits to the script.

I didn’t move to Los  Angeles to become a star. I moved to Oakland for a big girl job.

The first day I moved into my shitty apartment. I was waiting for the property manager to call and tell me the unit was ready and no longer smelled like weed and Cheetos. My car was packed to the gills,  I (stupidly) decided to waste time and go explore an outdoor shopping district in a “nicer” area of Oakland (side note:THERE’S NO SUCH THING).  My car was promptly broken into by some shit-bag. Unfortunately for me, the ass-hat was too stupid to just open the back door after breaking the passenger side window and broke the back window as well.  Thanks dick.. hope you like my sundresses.

The only victory I feel about this, is that fuck-face Magoo only got a suitcase of girly clothes, an ancient laptop that belongs in a museum, and a kindle with my collection of trashy romance novels and a few syfy fantasy series.

So I am standing there shaking with rage and naked vulnerability, trying to remember what I am suppose to do now. Then I remember! Call the cops! I am the victim of a crime! Fuck yeah, Justice! So I call 911, and I am put on hold. and promptly transferred. and then huffily told visit the Oakland PD website to complete my report. Justice. woo.

I am now alone in a weird state, with a broken car, no where to go, and no one to talk too. Husband (who at that time was still in FL) comes to the rescue and finds an auto glass repair shop near my future apartment. I race over to catch them before they close. Thank cheesus, they tell me they can fix it today and to comeback in an hour because they need to go pick up the glass. They were saints.

I race over to pick up the keys and walk the dogs. Of course there is some shirtless creeper who lives in the apartment next to dog park. And of course he feels he must attempt to woo me with his best “Hey gurl heeey you fine as hell..” sigh a true poet. I especially enjoyed the teeth sucking sound. It sends my gentle heart aflutter. Sadly I was too freaked out at this point in the day to tell him where I wish to relocate his grill.

I rush back over to get the windows replaced. Which they fixed with the impressive efficiency of a company that knows cars will always need new windows in Oakland.

I take my new shiny windows and my shattered dignity back to the complex. Just as I am pulling up to my parking space I realize there is car already parked there. On the verge of homicidal rage,  I debate ramming the car, but as discretion is the better side of valor, I just blow my horn indignantly in frustration.  Turns out the driver was still in there, and he actually pulls out of the spot and apologizes profusely and calls me “Ma’am”. I almost felt guilty for planning the destruction of his car.

Finally, I am able to go look at my apartment and unpack what is left of my belongings.  I found out apartments don’t automatically come with air conditioning and I don’t have a bed.

About thirty minutes later  I hear a very loud very angry banging and a lot of yelling. The yelling came from the police. The banging came from the U.S. Marshal’s and FBI. Who were breaking down the Shirtless Creepers door. I look out the window and see the parking space guy run by with an assault rifle and bullet proof vest.  Turns out, Romeo killed two people at another apartment complex.

Welcome to Oakland.


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