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Sorry, Ladies

Posted by doktakra on April 21, 2007 at 8:09 PM Comments comments (2)

My NYU alumni pass entitled me to a complimentary gym session, and since it was on the verge of expiring, I gathered a couple of old college buddies to play basketball.  The game itself isn't really the story here, but I'll note that despite being rusty, I scored two of my team's eleven points on a couple of tough jump shots.  Humor me and act mildly impressed.

Afterwards, however, I had a terrible stomach ache, and found myself in a desperate search for the restroom.  I didn't remember the hall layout all too well, but managed to find the locker room.  I'll spare you the details, but let's just say...no, you don't want to know.  Anyways, after 15 minutes, I was washing my hands and preparing to leave.  It was then when I spotted four girls outside of the door.  That's right, I just handled some bad business in the women's locker room.  I ran back inside before any of them could spot me, but it didn't make much difference.  The bathroom was all the way in the back, and there was no way to exit without passing by their lockers.  I waited for a few minutes and prayed they'd leave, but of course they didn't.  I figured it would probably be even worse if one of them noticed the creep hiding out in the bathroom for a half hour.  Plus, I didn't want to walk out while they were changing (come on now, I'm a good person...I promise).

Well, it was moment of truth time.  I walked out, pretending to be completely shocked to see them, and exclaimed, "oh, s***!  This is the women's locker room?!  My bad, I'm so sorry!"  All four were fully clothed.  Three of them barely acknowledged me, while the other one (who was pretty cute, by the way) chuckled and said it was okay.  I don't think the NYU women's locker room will ever be the same again...good times!

And that's not all.  I came home and was immediately informed -- by some weird dude in the elevator, actually -- that the toilet in our apartment had overflowed, again.  This time, it leaked through two floors beneath us.  Thankfully, the janitorial crew (who know me all too well by now) was already on it, using the trusty water vacuum to suck up the two inches of "water" on the floor.  Later, the girls who live in the apartment underneath us, came up to inspect the damage, and noted that our place was shaped differently.  It turns out their kitchen is actually located in the same space as our bathroom.  I think you get the picture here.  Neither of them appreciated the horrible joke I made next -- I won't even write it here.  Let's just say it had to do with the pleasant odor in the air.  Yes, this is my life.

You Wish You Lived Here

Posted by doktakra on April 5, 2007 at 11:03 PM Comments comments (5)

Here are a couple of recent stories from my building -- I feel that each serves as a microcosm of my entire living experience.

  1. As I was getting ready to leave at 6:30 one morning, I couldn't figure out the source of this odd grinding noise.  I thought it was some type of construction, or maybe coming from my roommate's room (who knows what he does in there).  Well, I was wrong.  I opened the front door and discovered a drunken stranger laying on our doorstep, immobile, snoring, showing more ass crack than I ever want to see, and with what looked to be small dried blood stains around him.  Needless to say, neither my movement or subsequent laughter awoke him.  My roommate later told me that someone from the front desk showed up at our door, literally poked the guy and asked if he lived with us.  The poor, embarassed fool suddenly stood up, apologized, and left to be never heard from again.  Now that is dignity at its finest. 

  2. Is there a worse physical sensation than waking up in the middle of the night to pee, stepping into a two-inch thick puddle of water (hopefully) in complete darkness, and taking a good 15 seconds to realize that your toilet overflowed, again?  At least the two-man janitorial crew in my building was helpful enough to bring an enormous water vaccum to assist my strategically-placed paper towel rolls.  Aftewards, I was given a tip for "next time:" to try to call before, or at least as soon as, something like this happens.  Seriously?  I'm apparently supposed to predict when the plumbing system will fail, and also be aware of it at all times.  This is why they get those big tips from our apartment.

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