Wednesday, July 13, 2005
8:15 p.m.

Goodbye janky 70s apartment. As endearing as your many idiosyncracies are to me, we must part ways. I feel that I’m growing as a person, while you remain stagnant and unmotivated. My needs have changed since I moved in. The love that I had for you in December has died, leaving only disappointment, resentment, and sometimes hatred. I have found a new love, someone I could really stay with for awhile.

Goodbye electric stove! Nice try, but you didn’t get me that last time. I will not catch on fire again. I tried to make a quesadilla but you showed me, didn’t you? It’s back to boiling water I guess.

Goodbye ever-nasty bathroom and concentration camp shower. As much as I love reenacting the third reich, I yearn for moderate temperature changes and not feeling captured by nazis.

Goodbye train that speeds by every half hour, honking that miserable horn ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY AND NIGHT. Without you I may actually sleep through an entire night without the benefits of substance abuse.

Goodbye drug dealers that live down the alley – do your clients know how obvious they are as they stumble out into the alley in a cracked-out stupor? You ghetto-ass fucks. I hate you all.

Goodbye hood rats testing your lame speakers in the parking lot, and hanging out with your lame friends, also in said parking lot. You ghetto-ass fucks. I hate you all.

Goodbye giant super-pervert freak next door. Does your mom know about the hooker parties you throw when she’s gone? You can never have enough crack whores, that’s what I always say. And what the fuck are you doing still living with your mom? You’re like 50! Loser. Not that I’m judging, I’m just saying…You ghetto-ass fuck. I hate you too.

Goodbye roommates. How many are there now, 8? I love you as fellow human beings, I just can’t live with you any longer. I would enjoy knowing where the bottom of the sink is, especially since there is a DISHWASHER RIGHT NEXT TO IT. I don’t enjoy hearing the shower at 2:30am on a Wednesday (Dean, I know this isn’t you). I don’t enjoy the cats defecating on my belongings because someone closes the door that would allow them to shit where they are supposed to, had the door been open! Not that I’m bitter…

Goodbye schiesty landlord. Thanks for waiting until the last possible second to fix ANYTHING, EVER! Thanks for the leaking water heater last week. Stepping over puddles in the kitchen is so much fun, it was always too dry in there I thought! And when my bathroom light went out, that week and a half of showering in the dark was heaven. I love forgetting where the door is and clamoring frantically as feelings of claustrophobia set in with feverish momentum. That’s just good times. And even though you will never read this, good luck trying to fuck me over – you may want to skim through a tenant/landlord handbook once in a while. You could learn a lot…

On another note, anyone got any boxes?