Filed under: great finds, photography | Tags: angst, depression, dresser, hate, history, ID card, jealousy, Laguardia High School, teenager, teenagers
Apparently, one of the quirks of owning used furniture is discovering the history/stories behind it.
This morning – after adopting my dresser exactly 9 1/2 months ago – I opened my dresser drawer and noticed the sound of crinkling paper in between the frame and the drawer case. This often happens, as I find old receipts people lost, old pictures, or old movie tickets. Today, I found the story of an angst ridden teenager, secretly lashing out at a classmate.
Who is this Angelina*? Why was she hated? Was she just prettier? Was she a bitch? Did she just happen to steal a boy? Or rather, who was the bitter frenemy with the green marker, the previous owner of my dresser? Was it really that important that she had to scan someone else’s ID in, print it out, and then write on it angrily? Where is she now? Following the birthdate on the ID card, she was born in 87, and so is around 21 years old now.
Hell, are there even two people involved? Maybe this was a girl who hated herself, and felt compelled enough to rant-scribble about it.
Either way, it makes me think of things I tossed out as a kid. Does someone in the world currently own it now? Wouldn’t it be cool if we could learn the history of our belongings?
*Name has been changed to protect this person’s privacy.
Filed under: contest
See you Monday!
Two days ago, I posted a contest about my extra Ting Tings ticket.
Social experiment!
I have one extra ticket to go see the Ting Tings on March 16 at Terminal 5. Write an interesting story about yourself, or something to convince me to bring you, and I’ll pick the best one over the weekend to come with me.
I’m a comedian, looking for some random experiences. If you think something like this is completely weird in a bad way, we probably wouldn’t have fun anyway. If you think this is strange, though still slightly entertaining, then give it a shot. Convince me.
If this doesn’t work out…well I’ll just end up bringing one of my friends. Ha.
Check it: lenyarea.wordpress.com
I’ve got some responses already, actually, and it’s pretty funny. None of them are actually friends that I know. Come on people, I’m pretty much picking Friday night (since I likely won’t have Internet access on Saturday).
And yes, I will actually respond to every single one.
Filed under: observations | Tags: apartment, apartment searching, Craigslist, douchebag, douchebags, New Yorkers, online dating, pets, roommates, smoking, tans
Apartment searching. To any New Yorkers out there, you know that these two words pretty much are synonymous with “another part-time job.”
What you may not know, however, is that the process of apartment searching – aside from loosely representing a dry-hump version of online dating through Craigslist – is a comedic goldmine. Ridiculous apartments, ridiculous roommates, ridiculous locations, and most of all, ridiculous Craigslist ads.
I get it, people have standards for who they want to live with. Personally, I don’t want to live with a sloppy person (think living with girls will solve this problem? Think again. I quickly learned that the amount of dust and mold in your home is not strongly correlated with whether or not there is an abundance of penis.), but that’s a pretty measurable quality. All I need to do is see how clean the place is, and ask how neat the roommates like their things.
Don’t want to live with pets? Ask if the person has pets.
Don’t want to live with smokers? Ask if they smoke.
Don’t want to live with douchebags? Ask…?
No, seriously. What? When you post an ad looking for a roommate, writing, “No douchebags” is probably the biggest waste of 13 keystrokes. Girl who wrote that, you’re an idiot. Who reads an ad and goes, “Awesome. Penthouse 3 bedroom. Pets okay. No doucheb- aww. Shit.” Get the point? Douchebags who are inherently self aware that they are douchebags don’t exist. Trust me, I’ve done research.
First, I find douchebags. Which is easy, since all I need to do is find any old bloke with an iPhone. Then I conduct my survey.
Me: Hey, man with an iPhone. You’re a douche.
Douche: No I’m not.
Me: Thanks for participating.
Conclusion: douchebags, to themselves, are never “the douchebags.” They’re like terrorists. It’s always the “other people.” They’re only doing God’s bidding by overindulging in spray-on tans and hair gel.
