On my way out of my apartment building, I passed a room blaring some bumpin' pop radio song accompanied by what I would guess maybe 4 girls talking at once. We could assume there were a couple silent ones in there too. Which brings many burning questions to mind.
Maybe I need to provide a little background info about my apartment first. I reside in a tiny, overpriced studio in the middle of Boston. The building has about 25 identical units. It has what could pass for a kitchen including a small fridge and stove (the stove about the size of the plastic toy one Becky and I received one Christmas many years ago). The "living area", I guess you'd call it, has my bed, a table, dresser, and keyboard all lining the available walls. I have a bathroom, too, but it doesn't really add to my point unless some of the girls are indeed hanging out in the bathroom...being that it is only 7:00pm, I doubt that is yet the case. Aaaaand...that's about it. It's extremely small.
This isn't the first time a party is thrown in my building. There is one apartment a floor up that has regular parties at least once a week. Here are the questions I have for the studio apartment partiers:
1. How do you all fit in there? Are you all sitting down? On what? Standing? If so, where? In the middle of the room surrounded by someone else's dirty clothes and bed sheets? The parties I attended at school were in houses, big apartments..not some dinky studio. We had room to stretch out and do keg stands (Sadly, I did not partake in the traditional keg stand not necessarily for fear of getting drunk; but more for the fear of kicking someone in the face, choking, being dropped, or the possibility that gravity would take my shirt in a direction unintended. Yet, it was a risk many an Iowan took.)
2. By the time I hear the third explosion of breaking glass, was it on purpose? Wait, is that macho? Do ladies fall for the loud, drunk guy who shattered their beer bottle with one energetic toss? Maybe he is showing off his perfect baseball pitch he had in high school. Or perhaps a football throw would be better form...I never was one for sports. Anyway, call me weird, but I was always more attracted to the guy who set out a box for recycling the beer bottles at parties.
3. What exactly was that loud thing you just yelled?
Anyway, I don't really want the answers to these questions. I just want you to party elsewhere.
While writing this, I had to remove my frozen pizza from the oven. I grabbed a fork and slowly, clumsily peeled the crust from the rack onto a yellow plate. As soon as the whole weight of the pizza hit the plate, it tipped and the pizza PLOPPED onto the floor. Cheese first. I stared at it for maybe 5 seconds and used the same fork to try to pick up the pizza, but all the cheese was sucessfully transferred to the floor in one slimy, greasy pile.
ReplyDeleteAfter this, I helped myself to some warm crust and finished the post.
Sounds like an interesting evening. It also sounds like the pizza was a bad idea at the get go.
ReplyDeleteDid they fix the elevator?
Actually, I'm not sure if they fixed the elevator.. But come to think of it, I don't remember hearing the constant beeping on my way down the stairs... I'll let you know tomorrow!
ReplyDeleteAnd the pizza was a bad idea. I should have just made a salad.
ReplyDelete