NewYorkSteve (newyorksteve) wrote,

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I'm not really a hard guy to live with, but I tend to get pissed off in a hurry. I still think the best living situation I've ever had - outside the dorms and my year on the couch at Steven's Court - was in New York with the girls. I wouldn't say they were my best friends, but the place had an extremely positive vibe, even with the cockroaches and the mouse in the kitchen and the holes in the ceiling that dripped and the ginormous dog upstairs who'd run all around and the crazy super downstairs with his yelling and screaming jags. If I really had to judge my Living Experience on one particular criterion, it would have to be my Irritation Level. The ol' IL was verrrrrry low when I lived in New York.

I don't get irritated very easy, it would be most hypocritical if I did. I mean, let's face it, I'm not the cleanest guy on the planet. But, I've justified it this way since I was a kid: if it's only MY room that I'm keeping messy, then nobody else really has a reason to complain. Of course, if I'm leaving my Legos, Hot Wheels, or Ninja Turtles all over the house, then you have a right to yell at me and make me put them away. But, my room is mine, you don't have to live there, so just leave it alone!

I do get stressed out when the entire living room is covered in shit. And a messy kitchen really doesn't make things any easier. And the BATHROOM, forget it. I won't stand for tons of shit all over the bathroom.

But, I'm an easy guy to get along with things. I don't REALLY need much, as I can attest by my experience living in Astoria. Aside from a room to sit in, all I really need is quite simple:

I need the last person to use a roll of toilet paper to put the new TP on the rack. I hate seeing an empty roll with a new roll just sitting on the counter.

I just need a LITTLE counter space in the kitchen that goes unblemished. There can be dishes and shit all over, but you've got to leave me a little 2-foot by 2-foot space where I can make sandwiches and open up tin cans to prepare my 30-second meals.

If there's a living room, I need a place to sit. I'm like that princess in that fairy tale, I can't sit comfortably even if there's a little pea under my ass. I need direct contact with couch cushion.

And I need to live with someone who doesn't use the entire bathroom counter and bathtub area for their "products". That fucking hygiene industry has seen more suckers buy into their claptrap! This is all you need to be clean: (1) bar of soap, (1) bottle of shampoo with conditioner, (1) toothbrush, (1) tube of toothpaste, (1) package of dental floss, (1) can of shaving gel, (1) razor, (1) roll of deodorant, (1) box of Q-tips. Sounds like a lot, but really, compared to many boys and girls I know, it's a drop in the metrosexual bucket. Now, I'll abide mouthwash, cologne, and maybe one of those liquid soap dispenser thingies, but they're REALLY not necessary. Hell, I've been complimented at work for my scent and you know what I told them? "Irish Spring, baby!"

Between that, and a little fridge and freezer space for my iced tea and White Castles, a little cupboard space for my Top Ramen and crushed red pepper, and I'm good to go.

Easy. Living with me is a fucking dream in the park. Hell, now that I like to cook once in a while, I might even make a dinner every once in a while. And a houseguest is a houseguest for one week. After that, I'm charging rent.

Oh, and if I find one pair of underwear on the bathroom floor, I'm gonna set the building on fire ...

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