"Liz, can Spikey eat the TV guide?" "Sure."
Well, it's been three days without power in parts of the apartment. The kitchen and the living room have officially been declared Amish territory, and we have no overhead lighting. The only thing that has prevented mass carnage is the fact that Liz and I can both use our computers (or rather, I can hijack Liz's computer when it decides to behave itself).
Anyways, I thought it might be time for a proper introduction to The House of Ill Repute...
Our house. In the middle of our street. Our house.
A view of the lovely Montréal suburbs from our front window. This kicks Mississauga's ass any day of the week.
Go north of us and you'll eventually hit Mont Royal, home to god knows how many used CD/DVD/record stores and porn shops.
Go south and you'll hit Rachel, home to one sketchtacular tavern simply named Verres Sterilisés. If you head west along Rachel, you'll hit St. Jean-Baptiste, which will be awesome if the McGill orchestra ever plays there again.
Here's the main hallway of the apartment. Going clockwise, there's my room (with the Student Crossing poster on the door), Liz's room, and the smoking room, which is currently filled with all of Melissa's crap and Spike's cage.
This is Spike. Liz has many names for this furry little potato, such as Spikey, Baby, and Spikey-Wikey. I have dubbed him Fuckmuppet. Being a guinea pig, he excels in two areas: looking cute and pissing on things (namely my lap). His hobbies mainly include eating hair, clothes, and textbooks, as well as spazzing out whenever Liz removes his food bowl (even if it's just for a few seconds to refill it).
This is where the lover of pretty things sleeps (hint: not me). Liz has a book and CD collection that puts my pitiful efforts to shame.
This is my room. It's nowhere near as spacious as Liz's, but it has two closets. Right now it's in a complete and utter state of disarray, with boxes (and apparently underwear) everywhere.
My room once more. I really don't get much more natural light than this during the day. Depressing, yes, but it goes well with the black and grey decor.
This is my pathetic excuse for a bed. I ordered a proper one from IKEA back during the first week of May, and apparently it's coming in around June 23rd. Right now I'm stuck with two thin air mattresses piled on top of each other...ugh.
The alleyway my room looks out on to. As Melissa once told me, in the summer all the weeds grow tall enough to cover up the garbage.
Our craptacular bathroom, minus the previous tenants' movie posters and about half the wallpaper. Most of it was starting to peel off anyway, so Liz just got fed up and ripped it off. In a few weeks, it will be repainted in a nice pink and black theme, but for now we're stuck with the shithole look.
Here is a shot of our living room. Note the X-Files shrine on the right (complete with Lindsay's "I Want To Believe" poster and four seasons on DVD), as well as the parachute on the little table (for poking smot - another part of the X-Files tradition). There's also a cool little coffee table that Liz decorated with countless magazine pictures, as well as a random hubcap above the giant poster advertising the Hitchcock exhibit. Said poster is close to falling off the wall now.
Another view of the living room. The infamous (and very necessary) liquor cabinet is on the left, filled with my stash as well as a very nice bottle of vodka that Liz brought back from Poland. The TV will be leaving us when Mels moves into her new place. Not that it's much use to us anyways - we only get one English channel and CBC tends to suck during the day.
This is our kitchen, complete with a fridge that currently isn't working and a gas stove that has been responsible for a few headaches as a result of the pilot light going out. The white panel with the pictures on it is actually a pull-out ironing board. I think it makes for an excellent place to hide drugs/bodies/stuff.
The kitchen again. Out of the microwave, the coffeemaker, the toaster, and the kettle, we can't use any two at once, otherwise circuits go boom. Liz is happy to have a roommate that actually does the dishes on a daily basis (Lindsay, you would be so proud of me), but apparently this is negated by the fact that I don't know where the cheese goes in the fridge :(
Might as well end this little virtual tour on a happy note. Here's a pic of Liz and her Spikey on my bed, which has yet to be pissed on. On a somewhat related note, Liz has a tendency to forget she actually has a guinea pig when she's stoned. This results in me hearing things like "I have a furry thing that moves!!!" and "This thing makes the coolest noises!!!!" on a fairly regular basis.
For those who want to come visit me, the address is 4245 rue St-Hubert, apt. 1. Bring beer. Please.
P.S. Lindsay and Karen: I have a fair bit of mail for you. Finally.