Yesterday was a near-total loss due to a huge effort to get my apartment back into shape after it was turned into a wreck by the 20something guy I subletted to during my absence at Telluride, Toronto and New York (8.28 to 9.26). I always sublet during festival sojourns and have done so for 15-plus years without an issue, but my luck ran out when I okayed the smiling, mild-mannered Sajan Patel. I spoke to his boss as a reference, but this guy was a dog with fleas. He flat-out murdered 60% of my plants, killed my 50-inch Vizio plasma (it’s been stricken with some kind of fatal ailment), starved my cats (although my obese Siamese cat Mouse having lost 2 or 3 pounds is actually a good thing) and made the place look like a cyclone had blown through it. I asked this fine young fellow why he’d destroyed most of the plants and he actually replied, “They are not my responsibility as this is is not my home — I was only here for a month.” I gave him $100 bucks to cover his previously paid rent and immediately kicked his ass out. I had to buy a new TV last night, and will have to fork over $300 to $400 to replace the dead plants.
In Bad Words Jason Bateman gets a laugh when he calls a young kid of Indian descent whom he’s befriended “slumdog,” but I can’t use that term or mention Patel’s ethnicity because that would prove that I’m a racist. Never again will I sublet to a 20something guy of any ethnicity — fair enough?