There's this little game I like to play every time I enter or exit my apartment building that's called, "What the hell will I find in my hallway today?"
It's pretty much the best thing ever to live in an apartment building in downtown Denver full of rat bastard children. I have now become so old and crotchety in my 28 years of life that I'm now calling anybody under 22 (25 if you're a real asshole) "children" and "rat bastards." As a party girl that's slowed her roll a bit, I can understand the overwhelming desire to get completely shitfaced on a Wednesday afternoon, for no other reason than the fact that you can and beer tastes really good.
Forget going to my apartment pool on a weekend unless you want to be exposed to several areola slips, endless movie quotations followed by relentless giggling and a giant knot on the back of your head from being hit with a flying can of beer while trying to enjoy your dip in the pool. It's like Spring Break, except I'm the wrinkly old bitch that unfortunately forgot to do her research before picking a vacation destination. I think about how I used to be at 21, 23, hell, even 26, but now I have shit to do — work, papers to write, books to read, things to study for, people to see, places to travel, plans to make...plus, I really can't deal with the hangovers as well as I used to. I'm still known to drink two bottles of Malbec on a Saturday night single handedly, dying my lips and teeth a sexy shade of purple, but now my labia is no longer hanging out of a 6-inch jean skirt while I'm doing it. I also refrain from screeching at octaves only dogs can hear and wait to puke until the next morning like a real grown up. I look at these rat bastard children and think, 'Damn, I was never that annoying." Then I reminisce a bit and conclude, 'Yes, yes I was. Probably worse.'
However, there is one thing that I never did as a drunk, rat bastard and that is break shit, or leave things for other people that I don't even know to pick up. People just love to play SMASH! with things that aren't theirs or puke all over a public bathroom, without getting a drop into the actual toilet and just leave it. Which brings me back to the "What the hell will I find in my hallway today?" game. Besides my asshole neighbor who left her rotting, corpse smelling trash outside her doorway in the indoor hallway for two days, I have quite a running list of random things I've found, with photos for effect:
Scattered pieces of dry cat food. For those of you who don't know, cat food is like crack to dogs. It was fun trying to keep Andy away from it.
A trail of gummy bears up the stairs. "Ooo, piece of candy! Ooo piece of candy!" Andy licked all of them every time we hiked up those stairs from a walk...never eating, just licking.
Turning the corner out of the elevator right around Halloween, I saw a tiny, shredded two-piece slutty costume laying in the middle of the hallway. Apparently one of the rat bastards was feeling frisky and couldn't wait until he was in the actual apartment to rip his girlfriend's pasties off.
I've had to sit down in an elevator to prevent my hungover ass from getting sick in one a couple of times, but I've never eaten my breakfast in one...or beside one. I found actual dishes, not paper plates, but an empty bowl with cereal remnants and an empty glass sitting by the elevator. Either somebody was in a hurry, they have a stray bum they're feeding, or they're just an asshole.
I found this guy just a couple of weeks ago — a whole, ripe banana with the peel still on just chillin' in the hallway. Why you would drop your banana and leave it is beyond me. There's not even a five second rule involved because there's a peel you have to take off before eating it. And, if they were trying to be funny with the whole slip-on-the-banana-peel thing, they failed miserably. I guess if you can't expect a drunkie to walk a straight line, you can't expect him to peel his banana either.
Apparently somebody is doing home prostate and gynecological exams because a crusty latex glove was found squished against the hallway wall once. I told myself it was probably for a costume or something to make myself feel better...nothing like catching an STD from your hallway.
And now an actual video for the grand finale:
This is what my roommate and I refer to as "The Murder Fan." This is probably the third or fourth time a Murder Fan has been created since I've lived in rat bastard land. We'll wake up in the morning to this strange noise coming from the hallway, look outside and find that another Murder Fan has been born overnight. What I can only assume happens is that some drunk rat bastard decides it would be funny to fling himself into the air and bust one of the wooden fan blades off one of the many hallway fans. We call it the Murder Fan because it looks and sounds like it will fly off it's base at any moment, most likely when you're walking under it, and decapitate your ass. Even Andy's like, 'Oh heeeellllll no,' and scampers past it as fast as he can. Eventually somebody comes to turn off the fan and make it less murdery, however, they never actually get fixed. At this rate, all we'll have in the hallway are Murder Fans.
The next thing I'll probably find in my hallway is a decapitated body. I think it's time to move. Let's hope the Murder Fans show me mercy until then and take out a rat bastard instead.