Cramps

I bet after reading that title you all thought I was gonna talk about having a period, thereby finally revealing that I am a hermaphrodite, huh?

Nope.

This is about apartments.

Here in New York City, space is a precious commodity. When looking for a new place, you spend tons of time and energy and money over every square inch you can get, trying to find, as Carlin put it, "a place for your stuff."

Now I've actually been pretty lucky in that regard. I currently have a beautiful apartment with lots and lots and lots of space, but once again, as in every place I've ever lived in this fair city, I also have tons of space where I really don't want it...

WHY ARE THESE GODDAMN CEILINGS SO HIGH?!?!? I HAVE TO CHANGE TWO LIGHT BULBS BEFORE THE WHITEST KIDS COME OVER TO HELP ME DRINK THIS FRIDGE FULL OF BEER I HAVE ACQUIRED, AND NOW I HAVE TO "MACGUYVER" TOGETHER SOME KIND OF BIZARRE CONTRAPTION JUST TO ENSURE THAT WE DON'T HAVE TO DRINK LIKE THE CAVEMEN DID?!?! AND WHY AM I SO GODDAMN SHORT ANYWAYS?!?!? I COULD REACH THE LIGHTS EASILY IF I WASN'T SOME BIZARRE HOBBIT-TYPE PERSON! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

I guess it's not all that bad. Even if we have to drink in the dark, the beer will still be cold, an amenity the cavemen never got to experience. Actually, they never got to experience beer at all. They probably just drank stegosaurus blood or something when it was time to party.

Well, it's time to begin duct-taping my pliers to my mop now.