There are several reasons why I don't invite people to my apartment. First, it's pretty small, so not many people would fit comfortably up here, and the problem's only getting worse now that I don't have room in the closet to stack all of the corpses. Second, I'd prefer it to remain a mystery. What type of operation have I got up here - - a meth lab? Illegal trafficking of endangered species? A microwave? Probably, but no one's really sure, and I'm not telling. Third, I don't want any of you cheap bastards trying to swipe my GANGSTA ring. No. Way. In. Hell. Bitches.
But beyond that, the biggest problem is the tempestuous weather conditions. Currently we're rocking the subzero temps, and I'm desperately trying to find a pair of snowpants in case I need to brave the ten foot trek necessary to go answer my phone. And I can't turn the heat on because it's switched over to the AC. Now, in the winter, I never have to touch the heat because somehow it's always a flippin' sauna in here. Generally when I'm just sitting at home, if I wear any clothes at all, I'm in constant danger of spontaneously combusting. Then if I turn the air on, it goes straight from sweltering to frigid, stopping only for a brief moment in between for my air conditioner to point and laugh. But not today. Now it just sits there, mocking my entire lack of practical knowledge, because apparently I don't know how to work the one dial to change it anymore.
One question worth asking is why I still live here, I suppose. Truth is, my parents told me they'd cover my rent throughout law school if I kept it within a certain price range. Which is no small consideration, since I'm probably going to make it through law school and graduate without having any debt whatsoever. So here I sit, shivering, hoping the sun decides to get its lazy ass out of bed so I can shed the winter wear and go back to being slowly broiled. Unlikely as that is, if the next time you see me it appears that I have fewer toes than normal, there's at least a 65% chance that they froze off in the interim, a 2o% chance they were mauled be certain specii who don't like being caged up here anymore, and a 15% chance I lost them in 'Nam.
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5 comments:
You should call the building inspector and file a rent abatement. But a roundhouse to the face is also just as effective.
Keep your fucking NLP knowledge out of here. The only viable solution is - obviously - the rabbit's foot.
Intriguing. We need to boost that phrase and use it to describe the biggest/most dangerous thing ever. Like in poker, someone has the nuts, you say you have the rabbits foot. What does that mean? I don't know, but its sure as hell impressive.
You're right, I did learn about the roundhouse from NLP.
And props to Vice for using the latest, greatest word out there "boost."
Abate this [tenant points to genitals].
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