In the past few days I have seen each of the former ape roommates in my neighborhood. The first I saw on the basketball courts (where I was working on my jump shot from behind the paint in three-pointville, natch) and the other I just saw today on the street. He engaged me in conversation for quite some time and actually was quite entertaining and had me laughing my ass off. Things sometimes get so strained as roommates that you forget about the good things in people. Much easier to see those things when you are no longer dealing with that person’s dirty towels and dishes and porn.

ape returned to pay his bill.>

I lied, I don’t really have anything else to add to my previous post about Collateral. It’s good. That’s all.

I spent the holiday weekend doing mad cleaning. It’s amazing how much more pride you take in the appearance of your home once you no longer hate the people you are living with. This place is spotless.

I found bottlecaps in all the most unreachable areas. I found a beer can in the back of a bathroom shelf. I found a cache of flattened cardboard beer cases in a storage closet.

But they also left an air conditioner, a gas grill, a toaster oven, a George Forman grill, and two weedwackers. Oh, and a penis-carved coffee table.

They left behind the precious woodcarving. For sale to the highest bidder. Or to whoever wants to take a sledgehammer to it in my back yard. Your choice.

Someone is going to miss the apes when they move out in two weeks, but it isn’t me.

It’s the old guy who comes around early in the morning on recycle days to pick the bottles and cans from various recycle bins that are set out on various curbs in the neighborhood. I assume he trades them in for cash somewhere, but I don’t know the ins and outs of these things. And as you can see, our house is a sweet spot. This is just five days’ worth. So sweet is this spot that there is now competition for it. The usual guy is now coming on Sunday mornings–creeping quietly onto our porch and gingerly taking the bins out onto the curb to pick over them. Monday morning, another guy comes by and dejectedly picks over the cardboard and newspapers that remain after Sunday’s harvest.

Poor guys, when the apes move out they’ll be bereft. I’ll have to give them the apes’ forwarding address. All they’ll get from me and the newbies will be a few milk cartons and pizza boxes. Maybe a random Snapple bottle.

When greeted with this morning’s new phallic drawing from the apes lying on the kitchen table (this time involving two people and an act of sexual congress), I took a new approach and tore it up and left the shredded bits in their place on the table. I was gonna take a photo but when I came home the bits were gone. Someone got the message. Well, they got some kind of message, who knows which one. Sometimes a lot is lost in the translation. Maybe they just interpreted my act as one of aesthetic criticism. An inferior ass-fucking drawing really gets my ire, you know.

Ape #1’s mom is coming to stay in the ape house for a week. The apes are now scrambling to disguise their art. Heh. I asked him who was the creator of this piece and he said it was a joint effort. Lovely image, two drunken apes collaborating and giggling over the rendering of a woodcarved diseased penis.

Overheard this morning as a scheduling clash left ape after ape piled up waiting for the shower:

“Is there some douche-ing goin’ on in this house or WHAT???”

I was nestled in my bedroom and, being the only person in the house with a vagina, wondered if that reference was somehow referring to me and whether I should somehow be offended. But then I remembered that Ape #1 recently went to France and most likely was using the French form of the word “shower.”

Give an ape a little culture and look what happens.

I may not be writing my House of the Apes episodes any more, but if you miss them you can now get a regular dose from a new feature I like to call “Ape Art.” You might not have guessed that my apes are capable of art, but oh they are. Several nights a week they play PBR-fueled games of darts late into the evening, and the morning after they always leave behind a special piece of art attached to their scorecard. Much to my delight, of course. Here is last night’s output:

(WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK)

The apes are such morons they don’t realize I hear every word they say down there. Or perhaps it just doesn’t occur to them that I’m listening. Perhaps they think I have a life.

I tried writing a new House of the Apes scene but it came out too after-school-special-y so it’s on hold again until I can figure out a way to make it funny.

House of the Apes will be back after all. I confronted one of the Apes this morning about the cowardly angry note-leaving, and that will be the next scene. Complete with flashbacks. Stay tuned.

House of the Apes is currently on hiatus due to my renewed disgust with the apes. Tis the season for a battle of angry cowardly notes again, and last year’s ugly battle rears its head again. (See House of the Apes #1 in sidebar.) I have not touched the thermostat in weeks to avoid bringing on any battles, but came downstairs to find a note reading “PLEASE STOP LEAVING THE HEAT AT 70!” In all-caps, each letter scratched over and over like a crazed rageaholic. It wasn’t directed to me since I didn’t touch the dial, but I’m so tired of cowards. No one should have to wake up in the morning to an angry shouting note on their dining room wall, in their own house. And the person who left the note conveniently left it as they were leaving the house for the day, so they left someone with a shitty feeling all day and ran away to escape any consequences. Hopefully my addendum to the note will mitigate their bad feeling: “Wasn’t me but you might try talking to people rather than leaving notes.” Will probably bring on more backlash, but at this point I don’t care. Bring it on, I’m ready to fight the stupid fight.

I hate the apes. And I hope they are reading this.

It’s just occurred to me that I have neglected House of the Apes for two weeks in a row! The holidays, you know…I’ll have a new scene ready this Friday, not to worry–the material is endless.