S*#$ happens

Saturday night, I'm preparing to go to Phong's surprise birthday party: I was dressed and ready to go. I made a pit stop before heading out, flushed the toilet and boom- overflow central. I mopped up the mess the best I could, turned off the water, and started plunging. After 20 minutes of plunging to no avail, but a lot more water all over the floor, I knew I was screwed. I was also the only person home. I was also covered in toilet contents. What a lovely evening. I called my roommate, who called our landlord, who swore he was on his way over. He never showed up. He never responded to the four additional phone calls my roommate placed. I called a plumber- 24/7 emergency service (or so they claim). "Great- someone will be there between 6:30-8:30 PM". It was 6:15. Tick tock. No plumber. It was now 8:15, and I was more than a little irritated. I had no dinner, no food in my house, but I couldn't leave because what if the plumber shows up the MINUTE I walk down the street? 8:30 came and went, 9:00 came and went. I called the plumber about 298983 times, practically in tears, and trying to find another plumber to come out and fix my potty. No dice. FINALLY, at 10:00 PM- 4 hours later- he showed up. "Sorry. Things are backed up. Pun intended". I bet.

After waiting all of that time, missing the birthday party, not eating dinner, and using the coffee shop next door's restroom twice, it took him 5 minutes and cost me $160 to unclog the damn thing.

In other news, I finally got my bike this weekend, and survived riding in Manhattan. (The bike shop is on the West Side). Granted, it was only about 7 blocks to the subway, but still- cycling in the City is no joke. Once I got back to Brooklyn, I took her for a spin through my hood, and did the Prospect Park loop, and let me tell you- they don't call it Park Slope for nothing. 5 minutes into the ride, I was totally out of breath and wincing at my quads. But, I love it. Move over, Lance Armstrong.