You vape bro?
Seriously, does anyone smoke real cigarettes anymore? I had always found tobacco use to be a turn off - until vaping came about. Now, thanks to vaping, when I encounter someone smoking an actual cigarette, instead of seeing an entitled asshole activating my asthma I see a sexy rebel activating my asthma. Is that a pack of Camels? HERE TAKE MY PANTIES. Not only does vaping make dudes look like they might slip you a roofie, but the very word sounds like something sexual predators ask 14 years olds about in AOL chatrooms. "Have you every tried vaping with an older guy?" Yeah, you're disgusted, because you know I'm right.
Speaking of bros and sexual predators, as per usual, it has been so long since I have taken to this series of tubes to complain. Things have been going so remarkably well that I haven't had anything to write about, so now I have to invent problems that have not yet come to fruition. The latest of which being that I am terrified that I am going to get serial raped/killed in my new apartment.
I recently moved into a place of my own. What with being 30 and all I decided it was time to live the adult life.
NAH. JUST PLAYING. I was displaced by a boyfriend and a surfboard collection and after exhaustively interviewing with potential new roommates (see more below) I found a 1 bedroom in my favorite neighborhood for the same price as most shares and decided it was my best option. While I could have saved myself some rent, an exorbitant broker fee, and the humiliation of having to ask my parents for a loan at the age of 30 for an exorbitant broker fee, I was unable to find anyone I really clicked with. Plus, having a butt-wrenching autoimmune disease whose remission depends a lot on your roommates not using your special sponges and cutting boards is kind of a dealbreaker. So, I begrudgingly handed over an exorbitant broker fee and any plans of having fun in the next 6 months over to the broker who met me at the stoop of the apartment and did nothing else and moved in to my first solo apartment in nearly 10 years.
Living alone is supposed to be awesome. My apartment is weird and quirky (read: against the highway and above the train) and while the floor bows and the faucets leak I have managed to make it my own. A few more minor renovations (like painting over the aquamarine living room why) and it will really feel like mine. Hell, I even have an outdoor space. So what's the problem?
I AM FUCKING TERRIFIED.
My apartment is situated at ground level and has no fucking bars on the windows. My LANDLADY on the SECOND FLOOR has full on bars on her windows, but my easy-access ground level apartment in a highly trafficked area has none. I lock my windows at night but beyond that I am afforded no security from a break in. Now, I have absolutely nothing of value so if someone kicks in my air conditioner during the day and prowls around they are going to be sorely disappointed to have wasted the effort on a bunch of costume jewelry and vibrators that no longer hold a charge. My biggest fear is being attacked for my CORPOREAL POSSESSIONS in the night. I am NOT TRYING to get serial raped and killed in my first NYC big girl apartment. UPDATE: Mom is buying me alarms for my windows.
I mentioned this at work in front of a male colleague who SCOFFED when I said I was worried about someone breaking in to my vagine. And I mean what a BLOW to the ego. Not only was it made clear that that coworker did not find me marginally attractive (and if the guys at work aren't getting boners from you what is even the point amirite ladies?) but he found me so categorically unattractive that he easily dismissed the notion that a SEXUAL PREDATOR would attempt to victimize me.
Excuse me, incredulous male person who never once had to walk with his keys between his fingers for 10 blocks, did you think that predators only target 10's? Did you think that because I am not dainty that I would not be a target for a crezemen seeing how easy it is to thwart the locks on my single pane windows?
How does one even call someone out on that? I pride myself on being the feminist killjoy in my office (and don't you for a minute think that I have not considered "feminist killjoy" for an ironic tramp stamp because I HAVE) but even I, ballbuster extraordinaire, cannot begin to comprehend how to rebuke a coworker's incredulous scoff at the notion that someone would try to rape me.
"EXCUSE ME SIR, BUT I AM EXTREMELY RAPEABLE. I HAVE ORIFICES."
EXCUSE ME SIR, DON'T YOU SCOFF AT MY RAPEABILITY SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU HAVE NOT CONSIDERED DOING SO YOURSELF."
"EXCUSE ME SIR, MY LAST RAPE WAS OVER TEN YEARS AGO AND STATISTICALLY I AM DUE FOR A NEW ONE."
There is really no way to come back from that in a conversation in an office breakroom when you have half a banana in your mouth and still keep your job. So I let it go and spent the remainder of the afternoon in the bathroom looking in the mirror and repeating "you are TOTALLY rapeable. Any predator would be lucky to target you. I bet any day some guy is going to follow you off the train."
Until my alarms come I am hanging cans on my fence and making a pact with the surly orange tabby behind my house to warn me if anyone is coming. No one is gonna vape this girl.
******
Quotes from my favorite apartment interviews:
"No fire escape. We don't need. You want apartment? Your skin is very pretty." - Polish lady trying to charge me 1200 dollars for a cat infested firetrap with no lights in the hallways.
"Bill Burr is pretty much my favorite comic." - Guy with a ponytail
"Oh yeah, I think I have a touch of Celiac disease but I haven't been to the doctor for it." - Guy from New Hampshire who also had a ponytail.
"I just really like my privacy and don't want to be bothered." - Lady who couldn't blink due to all the botox.
Speaking of bros and sexual predators, as per usual, it has been so long since I have taken to this series of tubes to complain. Things have been going so remarkably well that I haven't had anything to write about, so now I have to invent problems that have not yet come to fruition. The latest of which being that I am terrified that I am going to get serial raped/killed in my new apartment.
I recently moved into a place of my own. What with being 30 and all I decided it was time to live the adult life.
NAH. JUST PLAYING. I was displaced by a boyfriend and a surfboard collection and after exhaustively interviewing with potential new roommates (see more below) I found a 1 bedroom in my favorite neighborhood for the same price as most shares and decided it was my best option. While I could have saved myself some rent, an exorbitant broker fee, and the humiliation of having to ask my parents for a loan at the age of 30 for an exorbitant broker fee, I was unable to find anyone I really clicked with. Plus, having a butt-wrenching autoimmune disease whose remission depends a lot on your roommates not using your special sponges and cutting boards is kind of a dealbreaker. So, I begrudgingly handed over an exorbitant broker fee and any plans of having fun in the next 6 months over to the broker who met me at the stoop of the apartment and did nothing else and moved in to my first solo apartment in nearly 10 years.
Living alone is supposed to be awesome. My apartment is weird and quirky (read: against the highway and above the train) and while the floor bows and the faucets leak I have managed to make it my own. A few more minor renovations (like painting over the aquamarine living room why) and it will really feel like mine. Hell, I even have an outdoor space. So what's the problem?
I AM FUCKING TERRIFIED.
My apartment is situated at ground level and has no fucking bars on the windows. My LANDLADY on the SECOND FLOOR has full on bars on her windows, but my easy-access ground level apartment in a highly trafficked area has none. I lock my windows at night but beyond that I am afforded no security from a break in. Now, I have absolutely nothing of value so if someone kicks in my air conditioner during the day and prowls around they are going to be sorely disappointed to have wasted the effort on a bunch of costume jewelry and vibrators that no longer hold a charge. My biggest fear is being attacked for my CORPOREAL POSSESSIONS in the night. I am NOT TRYING to get serial raped and killed in my first NYC big girl apartment. UPDATE: Mom is buying me alarms for my windows.
I mentioned this at work in front of a male colleague who SCOFFED when I said I was worried about someone breaking in to my vagine. And I mean what a BLOW to the ego. Not only was it made clear that that coworker did not find me marginally attractive (and if the guys at work aren't getting boners from you what is even the point amirite ladies?) but he found me so categorically unattractive that he easily dismissed the notion that a SEXUAL PREDATOR would attempt to victimize me.
Excuse me, incredulous male person who never once had to walk with his keys between his fingers for 10 blocks, did you think that predators only target 10's? Did you think that because I am not dainty that I would not be a target for a crezemen seeing how easy it is to thwart the locks on my single pane windows?
How does one even call someone out on that? I pride myself on being the feminist killjoy in my office (and don't you for a minute think that I have not considered "feminist killjoy" for an ironic tramp stamp because I HAVE) but even I, ballbuster extraordinaire, cannot begin to comprehend how to rebuke a coworker's incredulous scoff at the notion that someone would try to rape me.
"EXCUSE ME SIR, BUT I AM EXTREMELY RAPEABLE. I HAVE ORIFICES."
EXCUSE ME SIR, DON'T YOU SCOFF AT MY RAPEABILITY SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU HAVE NOT CONSIDERED DOING SO YOURSELF."
"EXCUSE ME SIR, MY LAST RAPE WAS OVER TEN YEARS AGO AND STATISTICALLY I AM DUE FOR A NEW ONE."
There is really no way to come back from that in a conversation in an office breakroom when you have half a banana in your mouth and still keep your job. So I let it go and spent the remainder of the afternoon in the bathroom looking in the mirror and repeating "you are TOTALLY rapeable. Any predator would be lucky to target you. I bet any day some guy is going to follow you off the train."
Until my alarms come I am hanging cans on my fence and making a pact with the surly orange tabby behind my house to warn me if anyone is coming. No one is gonna vape this girl.
******
Quotes from my favorite apartment interviews:
"No fire escape. We don't need. You want apartment? Your skin is very pretty." - Polish lady trying to charge me 1200 dollars for a cat infested firetrap with no lights in the hallways.
"Bill Burr is pretty much my favorite comic." - Guy with a ponytail
"Oh yeah, I think I have a touch of Celiac disease but I haven't been to the doctor for it." - Guy from New Hampshire who also had a ponytail.
"I just really like my privacy and don't want to be bothered." - Lady who couldn't blink due to all the botox.
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