College Student

I can't say that living in an apartment fosters what one might call intelligent thinking. My humble abode, located somewhere between 54th and 53rd Streets on Woodlawn, is not the breeding ground for enlightened knowledge. This realization came to me just a little while ago, while I was reviewing exactly what happened since I came home from the library this afternoon.

When I entered my apartment around 7 PM, I had the brilliant idea of making scrambled eggs. Not just any scrambled eggs, but scrambled eggs with pears in it, because as I see it, scrambled eggs is a repository for foods nearing their expiration dates. Many a good food that had at one time been green but was slowly decaying into a sort of purpley-brown has been put into my scrambled eggs, because there's already cheese and eggs in there, which in my book, is enough to mask the foulest of flavors. I think when the time comes, I'll be sweeping toenail clippings and dried boogers into my scrambled eggs, because well, you shouldn't have left them out in the first place.

So I made these scrambled eggs with pears and tomatoes. Scrambled eggs with pears are not served at IHOP for a reason, I can attest to that. What was promising cuisine before I started turned into a sort of mush that I had to finish off, and if you want to spend the night, I will not be making that for you in the morning, rest assured.

I managed to spend the rest of the evening in the apartment without any serious fumbles until I wanted some Munster Cheese James has been hording in the fridge. James is our unofficial 3rd roommate until he finds his own place, which might be happening anytime in the next 4 months. Mary Kate and I have subtely been placing all his stuff in front of the entry way and our conversations go something like "Hey James, nice socks, when are you leaving?" But it's not because we don't love him that we're doing this. He just happens to be a fire hazard when he's sleeping in the middle of what I call the living room.

I delve into the freezer for the munster cheese and pull out a popsicle.

"What I don't understand," I say to Mary Kate, brandishing the popsicle, "is why James keeps the cheese in the freezer."

"Well, that would be because it's a popsicle."

That wouldexplain why through all those years my sharp cheddar cheese had a remarkably fruity flavor.

I then sat down to the table and started to cut the sliced cheese into neat 8" x 5"...er...1" x 1" cubes when Mary Kate points out that the cheese IS already sliced. Then I went into my room to hang up Ikea.

Ikea is this long cylindrical mesh tube with holes placed throughout that can be used to stick hats, gloves, mittens, dead rats, and unmatched socks into. And that made an appearance in Depserate Housewives, Season 2. Through thick and thin, I've managed to hang it up, whether legally, or illegally, onto various things so that it would manage to stick. Until I came here.

Try as I would, this thing would not stay hung. Until I finally decided to masking tape a screwdriver to my curtain older so that Ikea could hang off nicely from the window frame without being impeded by the wall. So after managing to accomplish this exerting task, I stood back to survey the transformation in my room.

Everything is being held together with masking tape. My long mirror, that refused to stick with the given tape, now has a silver masking tape frame, there's masking tape sticking up pictures, my cloth covering my bookcase, and numerous other things being held together tooth and nail with silver masking tape. I am not going to be surprised the day that I'm going to be wearing masking tape. Oh, that piece of masking tape covering my right pants leg? That's just covering a large stain. It's SUPPOSED to be there.