Ben's overgrown asshole of a brother

This post is alternative titled: In Which I SWEAR and Write in ALL CAPS a fucking LOT.

So, those of you who have been around for a couple of years (aka all four of you) will recall a certain, ahem, incident involving a rodent in the attic. Blech. Last year I had a similar, albeit less fucking foul, incident in which there was scratching in the walls and the pest control people put down some kind of poison bait which cleared the problem up in one day. I mentioned to my management company both times that maybe they should find out WHERE THE FUCK THEY'RE GETTING IN and plug that shit up. But they are goddamn morons. Hate.
Cut to three weeks ago. Scratch scratch scratch. Gnaw gnaw SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! at 4am.
I called the management company. They called the pest control people. Who sent out a woman to check out the situation. Now, I have become considerably less feminist over the course of my 30 years and was immediately skeptical. My chauvinism triumphed when the bitch...I'm sorry...lady...could not open the fucking access thing to my attic. She was like, there's something on top of it. I was like, uh no there isn't, I've never put anything up there, you are just too goshdamn weak and why did they send me a woman to do a man's job. This was a Friday afternoon and she couldn't send a man out until Monday. Another weekend full of being awakened at 4am by scratching or some such nonsense. Not to mention the feline who races across my body every time she hears it. It's been awesome.
Monday came and went. I called. Management. Runaround. Pest control. Runaround. I finally lost my shit on someone in both offices and told them to figure it out or I would go insane from lack of sleep. Three weeks have gone by, people. I have. Gone. Insane. Complete with crying at work. And after work. And almost breaking up with the Mans because I was delirious. (I wish I were kidding...thank goodness he's patient.)
Last week, my neighbor calls me to ask if I'd heard any critters? (He's German and says critters...or maybe it was creatures with an accent. Whatthefuckever I told you I was delirious.) Apparently he returned from a month on the road, walked into his apartment, turned on the light, and there...in his AC vent...was an animal. Looking at him. And then it STUCK ITS PAW THROUGH THE VENT TO WAVE AT HIM. Hiii! I mean.
So yeah - both of us got on the pest control people and they finally sent someone out. To put traps...the kind that catch them alive (so they can release them to come right back in?!)...in the wrong fucking place. So still. Every morning. I'm awakened. 4am. 6am. Mindnumbing AM.
This morning, after falling back asleep for a couple hours, I'm again awakened by the ringing of my doorbell. On my porch is my neighbor, the property manager, and the pest control guy. At least they sent a fucking man this time. "Have you heard the animal this weekend?" Um. YES. Which is why I look like I haven't slept in three weeks. Because I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN THREE FUCKING WEEKS. The management lady actually rubbed my arm and called me "poor dear" - I must look pitiful.
So the dude brings his ladder in, pushes up the fucking thing with EASE because he's a man and and MEN should be in charge of rodent capture, goddamnit. He put the traps in my attic. And I'm pretty sure the asshole's been trapped because I swear I can hear movement up there but not of the running around kind. I've now drugged myself in the hopes that I can drown out the sound of a fucking raccoon thrashing in a cage.
Animal rights my ass. Shoot the fucker. Look at me, I've damn near become a Texan!