(no subject)
Cleaning out my desk drawers to get ready for the move, I found a stack of old journals shoved behind old Christmas cards and thank you notes. The majority of the entries in these journals was cringe-inducing swooning over boys I can't believe I wasted so much time on in my youth. There were also some gems, though, which I tore out to save. They include:
6/17/00: Today I saw a rainbow.
7/5/00: I LOVE THOMAS STREET! (& the bartender). Yay for Tobelerones! I am a SKITTLE! TOOTSIE ROLLS UNITE!!
7/7/00: Amber was going to sneeze - & that would be tragic. She's not going to drool anymore.
3/1/01: I just saw Weezer. I should be able to say more, but I can't. Because it was Weezer. Rivers Cuomo - please be mine. I want to be you.
Unknown date, 2001: In the corner of the stairwell at the back door of my apartment building is a pile of poo. It arrived suddenly one day last month while I was out shopping for "date me" clothes at Old Navy. I returned home to the smell of ass, and I hurried up the front stairs to my doorway. It wasn't until Amber came over later that night and greeted me kindly with, "your hallway smells like ass" that I decided I'd better figure out what it was. I originally thought that it was probably coming from one of the other apartments, as our building is commonly flooded with strange and unpleasant smells. Dan's front room still reaks of smoke from when he passed out drunk on the kitchen floor while making food on the stove. My closet, I fear, will forever have the stench of hippie girl b.o. thanks to the girl who lived here before me. Unwanted odors are apparently an unfortunate side-effect of our building of eccentric tenants. As Amber and I left that night and descended the back staircase, we saw it in the corner, overpowering us with its stench and mockingus with its gooey presence. "Wow," Amber said, "Your apartment really does quite literally smell like ass." Mortified that there was actually a pile of feces in my hallway, I stood quietly as an even more disturbing thought entered my mind - where did the poo come from? Our building has a front and back entrance, both of which remain locked and can only be opened by the tenants. There are 8 tenants in the building and only two have pets, both of which are cats. This was decidedly not cat shit. Having a cat myself, I am knoweldegable in cat shit, and this was not it. Cat shit comes in pieces and this was a gooey pile. Who did the poo belong to? Would the rightful owner ever clean it up? Weeks went by and the poo pile held its ground as the other tenants and I shrank away in fear. The story of the poo spread wildly to my friends and family and I can rarely get through a phone call or visit without hearing the inevitable, "is the poo still there?" Three tenants have just decided to move out and privately I'm convinced that it's because of the poo. The culprit still remains anonymous and I've dedicated a little portion of my website to a survey to determine what the populus at large thinks. So far the tenant with the most votes is the weird guy who lives next door and listens to loud reggae music. I'm inclined to agree with my poll-takers. Yesterday I heard weird Reggae guy listening to that new god-awful PJ Harvey song. He MUST be disturbed.
6/17/00: Today I saw a rainbow.
7/5/00: I LOVE THOMAS STREET! (& the bartender). Yay for Tobelerones! I am a SKITTLE! TOOTSIE ROLLS UNITE!!
7/7/00: Amber was going to sneeze - & that would be tragic. She's not going to drool anymore.
3/1/01: I just saw Weezer. I should be able to say more, but I can't. Because it was Weezer. Rivers Cuomo - please be mine. I want to be you.
Unknown date, 2001: In the corner of the stairwell at the back door of my apartment building is a pile of poo. It arrived suddenly one day last month while I was out shopping for "date me" clothes at Old Navy. I returned home to the smell of ass, and I hurried up the front stairs to my doorway. It wasn't until Amber came over later that night and greeted me kindly with, "your hallway smells like ass" that I decided I'd better figure out what it was. I originally thought that it was probably coming from one of the other apartments, as our building is commonly flooded with strange and unpleasant smells. Dan's front room still reaks of smoke from when he passed out drunk on the kitchen floor while making food on the stove. My closet, I fear, will forever have the stench of hippie girl b.o. thanks to the girl who lived here before me. Unwanted odors are apparently an unfortunate side-effect of our building of eccentric tenants. As Amber and I left that night and descended the back staircase, we saw it in the corner, overpowering us with its stench and mockingus with its gooey presence. "Wow," Amber said, "Your apartment really does quite literally smell like ass." Mortified that there was actually a pile of feces in my hallway, I stood quietly as an even more disturbing thought entered my mind - where did the poo come from? Our building has a front and back entrance, both of which remain locked and can only be opened by the tenants. There are 8 tenants in the building and only two have pets, both of which are cats. This was decidedly not cat shit. Having a cat myself, I am knoweldegable in cat shit, and this was not it. Cat shit comes in pieces and this was a gooey pile. Who did the poo belong to? Would the rightful owner ever clean it up? Weeks went by and the poo pile held its ground as the other tenants and I shrank away in fear. The story of the poo spread wildly to my friends and family and I can rarely get through a phone call or visit without hearing the inevitable, "is the poo still there?" Three tenants have just decided to move out and privately I'm convinced that it's because of the poo. The culprit still remains anonymous and I've dedicated a little portion of my website to a survey to determine what the populus at large thinks. So far the tenant with the most votes is the weird guy who lives next door and listens to loud reggae music. I'm inclined to agree with my poll-takers. Yesterday I heard weird Reggae guy listening to that new god-awful PJ Harvey song. He MUST be disturbed.