| Current mood: | time for bed. |
| Current music: | Conan Obrien. |
x-posted
I am so sick and tired of Osama Bin Laden, tired of seeing his videos and hearing about him, so on so forth. But the overexposure has even effected my dreams - I was having some weird dream about a large warehouse type store, browsing through it with friends, and Osama Bin Laden was also casually walking around the store looking at rugs and curtains. I woke up feeling very disturbed. Why won't that cowardly little maggot just DIE already? How long can a man live in the depths of a cave without going plum crazy?
Sigh. Anyways. Yesterday was kind of weird, I was just about to start an intense cardio workout when JJ (Long Lost Guy Friend) showed up on my doorstep again, and we decided to go to the mall and look around...so since neither one of us currently has a job, we scraped together dimes and nickels so we could buy some gas. It didn't add up to much, $3.60... I had a harsh realization as I sifted through pennies, that I was nearly completely broke.
Tangerine: Reality just wrote me a check.
JJ: Yup. A check for $3.60.
We managed to get to his house, which I had never seen this house before, I'm not sure if it even qualifies as a 'house'. Its more like a shack. Think of the smallest house you've ever been in...now cut that in half. There is no storage space whatsoever, so his 22 years of belongings are stacked and spilled all over the tiny house. The old couch, covered in stuff. The chair, covered. The kitchen table, covered and barely visible. He has nowhere to put ANYTHING. His mattress (thats all, no box springs or anything like that) doesn't have a sheet, he sleeps rolled up in a comforter. The paint is peeling off the walls, the carpet looks older than me, the windows are so dirty you can't see through them...and if I didn't know him and saw this place, I'd assume he was some drug addict with a hoarding complex. It was a sad, sad sight. And I told JJ he couldn't live like this! That something HAS TO BE DONE.
SO, I'm thinking of writing a sob story, a tear-stained letter to the all mighty Oprah, or, Extreme Home Makeover. It would make a great episode...and when the producers see the pics of JJ's current living conditions, they would be cold and heartless not to do something about it. They'd send in teams of professionals and that little dump could be transformed...
(Post a new comment)
 | 
 tungstenimago
2006-02-07 02:07
(link) |
I have a friend (of course it's a guy friend) who lives a lot like that. He lives on the third floor of a house that was renovated by my seventh and eighth grade English teacher to house multiple tenants in each of the bedroom-sized apartments. His room is slightly smaller than the one in which I live, but houses his bed (which, miraculously, has a frame), a book shelf, a small dining table, a dresser, a refrigerator, a stove, and a sink. He showers and uses the toilet in the same bathroom as the other tenants on his floor. One of the weirdest things about where he lives (aside from the fact that I learned the hard way that my old English teacher is a slum lord) is that each set of stairs leading up to his room gets more and more narrow as you go, almost like the whole house doesn't want you to be there.
I and some of my other friends are doing what we can to get him into a better place, but it's the best he can afford right now on a thrift store employee's salary.
It gets a little eerie, how much we have in common sometimes.(Reply to this) (Thread) |
(Post a new comment)
|
