Speaking of Landlords: I forgot to introduce you to Rich and Willow...
You guys are getting to know my landlord Mary pretty well and it'll continue for the remainder of my lease. But as I was cleaning up the blog I came across my unpublished post about my stay in Orlando. You've read some of it: my post-internship takes on Jemele Hill and Rick Maese...but there are other parts of it that remain. Now seems a good time to post what I wrote about Rich and Willoughby, my Orlando landlords.
As always, the following is unedited and appears exactly the way I wrote it that day.
MY LANDLORDS: Oh the stories. Where do I begin? Perhaps, I should start with the fact that they have six cats. SIX! It was torture. Or perhaps I should start with them, Rich McKay and Willoughby Mariano. Both reporters, but oh so different. Rich was a 40+ white guy from rural Massachusetts, maybe 90 miles from Boston, with a grad degree from University of Michigan. He had 7 siblings, one was a fraternal twin. Willow was a 27-year-old Asian gal from Chicago, with a degree from Yale. Wealthy parents, three sibs. these two were some of the most intelligent people I've met and they both have admirably diverse interests
Rich is easily one of the 30 most interesting people I know, if only because he's weird, but in a fascinating way. He doesn't walk, he shuffles, always with his shoulders hunched and a grimace on his face. When he talks, he whines. He's comic book geek. At the entrance to my room, one can find a miniature spider-man figurine hanging perilously from a ledge. What's he hanging on to? White dental floss of course, because it accurately depicts the spidy-web. Rich has a garden. He grows everything from sage to cilantro. And he employs all of his spices and homegrown tomatoes whenever he cooks. Even if the recipe doesn't call for thyme, rich is throwing it in the pot...Because he grew it. Rich wears velcro sneakers. gray velcro sneakers. To tell you the truth, I can't possibly conceive where he kopped these joints. It's like he went to Wal-Mart and said, "show me your least fashionable sneaker" or "I'd like to buy sneakers that you'd normally find on the feet of retards". Rich waited on Willoughby hand and foot. The sight of this older, balding, velcro-sneakered white man with this pretty young Asian woman was always hilarious, but I can see why Willoughby is engaged to this dude -- he's nice. But I mean NICE. He cooks, cleans, gardens, fixes everything and is extremely complimentary. Just an all-around swell dude. Oh....Rich was a boy scout. One time we could not locate a can opener and Rich opened my tuna fish can with his Swiss army knife. I tried to do the same thing the next days and blood came gushing from index finger
Willoughby is a bit of a princess. I can recall multiple stories like, "one time my mother sent me to New York for three days with just $100 because she didn't get money out of the bank in time and ohhhhhh it was horrible" Or "I hated working for the paper in Stamford because I could feel how those rich people were looking down on me. I just wanted to tell them, 'look at that f*&^&*g Yale sticker on my car mother****%*! You think you're better than me?" Willow did yoga. Willoughby didn't do much housework. Willoughby rarely cooked. But Willoughby was the life of their dinner parties. That was until Rich would go off on a 10-minute tangent about his adventures following a treasure-hunter in Argentina. He's writing a book about it. ultimately they were great landlords. fed me all the time, flexible with when I had to pay rent.
Two memorable people.
***************************************
When I went back to Orlando the other week for a going away party, Rich and Willow were out of town. And I was bummed. I found out that I missed my old landlords.
As always, the following is unedited and appears exactly the way I wrote it that day.
MY LANDLORDS: Oh the stories. Where do I begin? Perhaps, I should start with the fact that they have six cats. SIX! It was torture. Or perhaps I should start with them, Rich McKay and Willoughby Mariano. Both reporters, but oh so different. Rich was a 40+ white guy from rural Massachusetts, maybe 90 miles from Boston, with a grad degree from University of Michigan. He had 7 siblings, one was a fraternal twin. Willow was a 27-year-old Asian gal from Chicago, with a degree from Yale. Wealthy parents, three sibs. these two were some of the most intelligent people I've met and they both have admirably diverse interests
Rich is easily one of the 30 most interesting people I know, if only because he's weird, but in a fascinating way. He doesn't walk, he shuffles, always with his shoulders hunched and a grimace on his face. When he talks, he whines. He's comic book geek. At the entrance to my room, one can find a miniature spider-man figurine hanging perilously from a ledge. What's he hanging on to? White dental floss of course, because it accurately depicts the spidy-web. Rich has a garden. He grows everything from sage to cilantro. And he employs all of his spices and homegrown tomatoes whenever he cooks. Even if the recipe doesn't call for thyme, rich is throwing it in the pot...Because he grew it. Rich wears velcro sneakers. gray velcro sneakers. To tell you the truth, I can't possibly conceive where he kopped these joints. It's like he went to Wal-Mart and said, "show me your least fashionable sneaker" or "I'd like to buy sneakers that you'd normally find on the feet of retards". Rich waited on Willoughby hand and foot. The sight of this older, balding, velcro-sneakered white man with this pretty young Asian woman was always hilarious, but I can see why Willoughby is engaged to this dude -- he's nice. But I mean NICE. He cooks, cleans, gardens, fixes everything and is extremely complimentary. Just an all-around swell dude. Oh....Rich was a boy scout. One time we could not locate a can opener and Rich opened my tuna fish can with his Swiss army knife. I tried to do the same thing the next days and blood came gushing from index finger
Willoughby is a bit of a princess. I can recall multiple stories like, "one time my mother sent me to New York for three days with just $100 because she didn't get money out of the bank in time and ohhhhhh it was horrible" Or "I hated working for the paper in Stamford because I could feel how those rich people were looking down on me. I just wanted to tell them, 'look at that f*&^&*g Yale sticker on my car mother****%*! You think you're better than me?" Willow did yoga. Willoughby didn't do much housework. Willoughby rarely cooked. But Willoughby was the life of their dinner parties. That was until Rich would go off on a 10-minute tangent about his adventures following a treasure-hunter in Argentina. He's writing a book about it. ultimately they were great landlords. fed me all the time, flexible with when I had to pay rent.
Two memorable people.
***************************************
When I went back to Orlando the other week for a going away party, Rich and Willow were out of town. And I was bummed. I found out that I missed my old landlords.
posted by Twistinado @ 1:01 AM
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