I have added to my addiction of Jupiter House's iced coffee an addiction to their apple-nut bread, courtesy of Ravelin Bakery. Jupiter House and Ravelin are two of my three favorite Denton businesses, the third being Mr. Chopsticks, where I went last night for the first time in months. I got the Orange Chicken, with tofu instead of chicken, because it was the special. It was good. Maggie wanted Mongolian Tofu, with the extra-awesome firm tofu, but they were out of the firm tofu and she doesn't like the fried or soft varieties, so she got the Spring Roll Plate. It was still good.
We nourished our bodies with healthy deliciousness while watching the relentless thunder storm pulverize Oklahoma on the horizon. I hadn't seen that much lightning since moving away from Albuquerque. New Mexico gets an insane amount of lightning during its infrequent but powerful storms, and-- probably for that reason-- I've found thunder, lightning, and rain to be a very pleasant combination, as long as I'm not stuck outside. I used to hang out on my porch on Schmitz street and play guitar in thunderstorms, but the Schmitz era ended many months ago. Still, last night made me REALLY want an acoustic guitar, and I'm probably going to go to McBride's after this and play some Seagulls. None of which I'll be able to afford. Because I'm moving and poor.
Maggie and Julia's landlord, Gary Milam, is going to be at their house for some reason around 3:15, which is coming up in a couple minutes as of this paragraph. I have no qualm with saying that Gary Milam is a pathetic asshole and a terrible landlord. I sincerely hope he goes out of business. Maggie and Julia let him know they wouldn't be renewing their lease in June, so Gary put a "for lease" sign in the yard. Then he started showing up, unannounced, with prospective tenants wanting to look at the house. "I'm so sorry, I meant to call you," he would say-- every time-- while Maggie and I were hanging out in the living room, or her bedroom. Gary had no problem letting himself in to any room in the house, with clients in tow, even if bras and underwear were strewn about.
After several of these privacy violations, Maggie told him, in front of a new pair of poor, innocent clients, that it's definitely not OK for him to bring people into her private space with no warning. Gary undoubtedly lost business from that exchange, which he deserved to, but it apparently pissed him off so much that he dropped by later that week to scream threateningly at Maggie-- with her dad standing there, no less-- about something else completely trivial and unrelated. Maggie called the police, who couldn't do much, since Gary made only general threats and nothing specific. Things have settled down but have been anything but comfortable, so neither of us can wait for her to get the hell out of that house.
To make a long story short, never rent from Gary Milam or Slater Development in Denton, Texas. The guy's a slimy piece of shit. After renting happily from an intelligent, decent, honest, considerate landlord (Joe Stockard) for three years, I no longer believe that landlords HAVE to be assholes, only that assholes often become landlords. Finding one you can trust is priceless.
I think I'm going to go to McBride's to play acoustic guitars.