2nd Tuesday Post

Our landlord is a big piece of crap. Not only have the front door Stairs of Doom (tm) taken out me and several others, but the back stairs attempted to take out mrpants in a big way tonight. He was barreling down them, as he is wont to do, when the second to last step (yup, the one that isn't the same distance down as the rest) TOTALLY COLLAPSED! Our landlord has a habit of hiring shit-fer-brains workers to fix stuff up, and these stairs are the most recent evidence. Mrpants landed safely on his feet, just like a cat. So, no worries there. If it had been me, we'd probably be headed to the hospital, with broken limbs and bloody faces and such. I think I'll have to call the back stairs The Stairs of Destruction (tm). I'm also rethinking our plan to have the beer fridge on the back porch. I'm not sure it can take the weight of a fridge+keg+beer.

Why does our house want to kill us?