Oh for all that is holy why do I live in NYC? Our apartment, in past winters heated to nosebleed-inducing, skin-wizening temperatures, is now about 65 degrees in the day and even colder at night. My parents kept our house at 65 degrees in the winter. I hated my parents then. And I beyond loathe our landlord at this point, as he is responsible for installing the Situationists upstairs and the snoring, clomping, brawling family next door (about whom it must be said that they are probably just as miserable as we are, particularly when N and I practice our knife-throwing routine). He is also the man responsible for commissioning the bathroom artistry pictured above,* and which he is unwilling to repair, even though it is “nonconforming,” as the folks at the City would probably call it. (Oh, but don’t worry–I already have all sorts of forms downloaded from various agencies! He better hope that I don’t actually get around to filling those out!)
Worst of all, if you go to my landlord’s “website,” it immediately begins playing a midi version of “New York, New York,” which even Time Cube guy would agree is Bad Web Design.
Anyhow, maybe N and I should just move on down to Florida, seeing as we did just buy a house there and are spending eleventy-billion dollars to have the heater repaired today, given that it’s about 25 degrees down there, too.
Oh, speaking of down south, we have this, “Couple arrested for giving kids tattoos”:
They cleaned up a tattoo machine someone gave them, and used guitar strings as a needle. Out of the seven children in their custody, only the youngest child did not get a tattoo.
“They weren’t hurt by them,” Marsh said. “We would never do anything to hurt them.”
Little tiny crosses on their little tiny hands! I ask you, what is the point of having that many kids, beyond forming a gang or a basketball team? They needed those cross tattoos.
*This is only partly true. His father, from whom he inherited the building in the 70s (I know everything about this man, because I have super-detective powers, and if you have ever wronged me, it’s likely I know everything about you, too), was probably the one responsible for it, because those fixtures date back to the Eisenhower administration. And even Eisenhower, dead and in the grave, could tell you that.
Stroke me.
