The guy above me had some sort of a laundry problem, which poured a couple hundred gallons of his locker room-scented washwater down to the 2nd floor, and filtered down to my floor. It was dripping out of the fire detector and through the walls behind the toilet. I flipped the breaker off because I could hear the wires sparking in the ceiling. It was, and still is, fucking gross.
Almost as gross as the 2-stone shit-cream-pie that my dog took on the carpeted living room floor the next day. I guess there really isn't any point in cleaning the carpet anymore, as I will never get out of having to replace it when I leave here. There are more excrement stains on the fucking carpet than on a German motel bedspread.
I'm pretty amused to read about all you dopes mentioning new years resolutions, as if yesterday were some magical day of wiping some slate clean and forgetting why you gave up your goals LAST february. You're not going to lose any weight (barring cancer), you're not going to have more free time (you wouldn't enjoy it anyway), and you're not going to get married (unless you move to Massachusetts). I'm not saying you shouldn't make new years resolutions (YES I REALLY AM, THEY ARE AN EXERCISE IN SELF-DELUSION), all I'm saying is you should make resulutions that you're realistically going to keep until at least March. I resolve, this year, to smoke more cigarettes, to drink more alcohol, to shorten my lifespan significantly (by at least 3 years) by some easy means, to masturbate, to laugh at other people's misfortunes, and to not give one fucking dollar to a bum. These are pretty easy goals for me, it's no secret. But, I think I deserve to lower the rim until even midget-me can make a slam dunk. Why? because who gives a shit; The new year means one thing to me: I have to go out and buy a new goddamn calendar.
So let's go out there and be selfish, be rude and egoistic, spend and slosh and jerk and wipe and click and clack and puff and sneer. Let's be honest with our fight-or-flight, our shortest path, our least resistance, our amygdalas. Let's stop and remember the reason we are trying to achieve so much THIS month, THIS year: oh fuck, was there a reason? yes, Yes, YES there is -- we're all dopes with easy-to-wash brains. This year, be dry clean only; be an argumentative old shithead, be Debbie Downer (meaning a pill-head, of course); be Pigpen, be Ahab, be Trump. I fucking GUARANTEE you will fall back in love with yourself, if only for little bit.