Now that a bunch of my friends from the class of '06 are moving to New York, they're all telling me about their tough housing issues- "who will I live with?" "That guy is so messy but I'm neat" "How can I find something in
I mean this Dad guy has way more money than anyone else, so he always wants to order in from fancy restaurants, but sometimes I just want to make an inexpensive salad at home. And this Mom girl - it's kind of weird to have a girl in the apartment with three guys. I'm a nice guy, so I have been putting the toilet seat down and haven't been watching pornos in the living room, but how long can I keep that stuff up? Plus, she really gives me and Rich shit when we drink - what's the deal with that? I was sold by Rich on this whole living arrangement assuming it was gonna be like a frat house. "Old School meets Failure to Launch... Wait, those two movies also meet The Goonies," were Rich's exact words.
And Rich- that's a whole other can of worms. I mean we were good buddies in college, so I figured it would be a good idea to live with him, but this NFL thing has really gone to his head. I get in from a hard day at work, my brain is fried from all the complex equations and shit I’m doing as a paralegal, and what do I hear from Rich? “Guess who I met today, Dan? Former Raiders Quarterback Todd Marinovich. We chatted at lunch.” Great. What happened to the Rich I knew in college? The Rich who wouldn’t leave a Sigma Chi party until he’d ruined the beer pong table with all of his vomit and an international student had kicked him out by screaming the Arabic word for ‘sheep-fucker.’ My point is we’ve all got problems.