I think he’s hung over again or still drunk from the night before.

Wanted to let you know why I haven’t been posting the last few months. Unfortunately, I was in another car accident. *boo hiss*

It’s my 3rd car accident. In all three accidents I’ve been rear-ended and received a whiplash injury. *boo hiss*

No surprise to say it has slowed me down dramatically, so haven’t been posting. This will change as I work through rehab ‘n stuff.

I look forward to being healthy again and blogging up a storm!!!

If you’re wondering, weird landlord had nothing to do with it. He’s still weird though. That much hasn’t changed.

WL: “Is that a new outfit?”

Me: “No”

WL: “Oh really? Hmmm, because it’s different than what I usually see you wear when you go running.”

Me: I’m rendered mute by the knowledge he’s been watching me (again). Inwardly cringing, I manage a strained smile and shrug my shoulders.

WL: “Is that a skirt?” he asks as he stares at my legs and, seemingly, my crotch region. I think looking at someone that way (while being that much of a weirdo) should be illegal.

Me: “No, it’s a skort. A skirt over shorts.” I don’t think my legs have ever felt so bare. I might start running in long johns just in case.

WL: “Really?!” he says incredulously as he leans closer and intensely ogles me and my skort. “I’ve never heard of that before.” Then he started to smile. Cue goose-bumps, shiver and hair on my neck standing on end.

Me: “Yes, really.” Ewwwwwwwww.

WL: “Really?!!!” He says a second time while crossing his arms and shaking his head and continually staring at my skort and I.

Me: I think that’s when I began to lose consciousness.

I think I’ve encountered weird landlord 2 times in the last several months before or after going for a run. How creeped out should I be by this? I’m hovering around a 9.5/10 on this one but that’s pretty normal where he’s concerned. To me this is worse than usual though because I was wearing a skort.

I already suffer with a great deal of inner turmoil donning a skort in the first place. Hmmm, I wonder what lycra and technical fabric smells like when it’s incinerated?

I think while hearing the water splashing on what I can only assume was his nude body *I just wretched now* that somehow something came unhinged in my now fragile psyche and will never be the same.

Like my clothes, I wanted to be clean too so when I got back to my apartment I followed up with a shower in a turtleneck sweater and thick, grey jogging pants. (looking at weird landlord makes me wish there was no such thing as nudity) Hey, if I just shower like that from now on, no more need to visit the laundry room! 

I went back downstairs to put my clothes in the dryer. Guess what’s waiting for me on top of the dryer? A note along with a variety of teas. Why no picture you ask? Weird landlord walked into the laundry room before the door even swung closed and because he eavesdrops to hear when I’m back in the laundry room so he can either ‘coincidentally’ end up in the hallway as I walk through or find something he needs to do in the laundry room, aside from creeping me out. (he lives in an illegal suite right beside the laundry room which I think is actually a storage closet) I didn’t have my camera with me anyway. I should know better and always have it with me while venturing out into the hallways of Mackenzie Manor. Would’ve been a great picture to share with you.

The tea selection included echinacea and some type of mucous-drying blend. Lovely! However, I opted not to partake. I wish I could just see it as the nice gesture it was meant to be but somehow I can’t escape the images of him fondling the tea and having a conversation with it as he inserts something insidious into the package.

It’s laundry day again today. I wonder how long I could wear the same clothes without washing them?

So glad I have a peephole to provide a visual to accompany the disgusting symphony. (yes, I looked, ok?! I did it for all of you) He was sweeping the carpet, yes, sweeping it. Bending over, grunting, and sweeping the carpet. Kind of like a bend & snap, except a bend & grunt. There, are you happy now?

I suppose I should be grateful because it is better than what I imagined…him dry-humping the fire extinguisher.

Now, let’s jump ahead. Notice how September’s rings are much bolder and reaching further than before? This is a clear indication of their deadliness. Apprehension builds as October looms.

Beware not to stare for longer than a few seconds into the beautiful and dangerously mesmerizing loops of highlighter.

Some call me brave, others call me crazy but it’s the steep price (which includes heat, hot water & parking!) I’m willing to pay to live here at Mackenzie Manor.

The thing is, I haven’t seen weird landlord in a couple of weeks, until today.

I know he keeps notes n’ stuff (‘Dear doorstop diary’ is a fine example) and he’s obviously a fan of signs. I’m now starting to wonder if there’s some other kind of a diary or stardate log.

September 13, 2010 @ 3:45pm – Monique backed her Jeep into her assigned parking stall approximately 3.2 millimeters away from the preferred parking position (add to her permanent record).  She sneezed once. I wonder if she’s getting a cold or a flu mayhap. I can check her discarded Kleenex I suppose but maybe I should just resume monitoring her garbage and recycling again to make sure she’s getting enough nutrients in her diet. I smell toast.

This site makes any lapses in witnessing his weirdness bittersweet because of my constant longing for something really juicily weird to share with all of you. Bittersweet until the moment I speak to him again and my skin begins to crawl, like today for example!

What the hell is wrong with me? I know better than to engage weird landlord in conversation. Better lay off the Neo Citran.

I had a friend with me. As we approached, I forewarned him to not get eye contact with weird landlord as we walked by. I, however, feigned a weak (but hopefully passable) attempt at maintaining some kind of microscopically thin facade of normalcy by saying hello. Weird landlord’s reply? A grunt.
(hey, I tried right?)

Now, if you’ve read anything else here at My Weird Landlord, you may have an inkling of how horribly disturbing it would be to hear him, of all people, grunt.
I never want to hear him grunt, ever.

Grunting makes me think of terrible, unspeakable things. Why do I have to have an imagination at all? It really just serves to traumatize me.

On a positive note, maybe weird landlord can go get a part-time job as a ‘Walmart Grunter’ and go share his gift with the world.

Don’t be too alarmed but we will need you to sign a waiver.