03.27.2002 - 11:28 a.m.
You know what I'm going to do when JB and I finally buy a house?
I'm going to install a water heater the size of the freaking
Hubble telescope. No kidding. Because, frankly, I am really sick
of our wimpy-ass heater that is responsible for our forced Super
Quick Focused Showers. Showering in our apartment is kind of
like running one of those you-wash car washes, where you shove
in quarters and you've got a timer running - and you lather stuff
up really quickly because you've only got a minute left and oh
shit you're going to leave soap on the windshield quick rinse
rinse rinse time's up.
It's impossible to just
relax and enjoy the hot water, you have to run through your ablutions
like 1-2-3. Because if you fuck off and just stand there for
a while - you're gonna be shaving your legs in the freezing cold,
missy. So I'm saying, when we get a house, I'm installing something
that allows me to lounge around until all my skin wrinkles up
like a wadded kleenex.
I've had it worse, though.
Man. Back when I was 17, I lived in a building in Portland that
was ostensibly an 'artist's co-op' but was basically just a collection
of stoned riffraff. We all shared one bathroom. I think there
were 15 people officially living there, plus assorted odds and
ends who would stay with friends. One bathroom. It was unbelievably
Putting the toilet situation
aside (where it will stay, thanks, over there in a corner I won't
revisit) the shower was the sort of shower where you wash the
soap before you use it. It was always clogged, so you had to
bathe military style: turn on water, get wet, turn off water,
soap up, turn on water, rinse - end of shower.
God, and the KITCHEN. It
was so nasty no one ever ventured in there. It was like spores
would attack you the instant you turned your back. Everyone lived
on Old E 800 anyway, but if we cooked it was on hot plates in
Our 'rooms'. What a joke.
Basically this was a building that was only zoned for commercial
usage, and someone got the grand idea of letting a bunch of kids
live there and pay rent. The rooms were basically big office
spaces, with cubelike walls that didn't extend all the way to
the ceiling. No one could have real beds, because these were
supposed to be 'artists' work spaces' and were subject to inspection.
So we all had futons, or just curled up on a pile of blankets,
or made a freaking nest out of newspaper, or whatever (I had
a futon, ok? I wasn't a total animal).
It was all very Punk and
Totally Rebellious. Except that it sucked, we were all
probably paying an insane amount of rent for this hellhole, and
sometimes really shitty bands would come play in the main area
(what would be a lobby in an office, I guess). Did I mention
the walls did not provide any sort of sound protection? It was
exactly as loud in the rooms as it was standing right next to
the 'stage' (some plywood spraypainted black).
I can't remember how long
I lasted at that place. Maybe a few months, before packing my
stuff and hauling ass to a real apartment. I still can't believe
This diary entry was brought
to you by the Association of Well-Maintained Yet Meandering Goat
Sundry's Message Board
go back :::
03.26.2002 - The
thing about eating no carbs is that every trip to the kitchen
is a mini tragedy.
03.25.2002 - I'll
say this for the whole egg-dyeing orgy, though.
03.22.2002 - Lo,
the suckage hath been great.
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004