Well, that was a nice hiatus now, wasn't it? Yes, I've been gone for a long time. Doing what you ask? Absolutely nothing. I know, I could have been doing so many useful things with my life, but instead, I just sat around my tiny bacon smelling apartment where the walls are so greasy that a single spark could ignite the whole place and just burn it down. The fire department wouldn't be able to put out either, because grease fires only get bigger when water is introduced. But believe me, a huge destructive fire is just what Detroit needs, in fact, I don't think anyone would really notice. There are buildings all over the city that are still burning. The inhabitants of Detroit could care less about an aprtment fire. Well, except maybe my crazy neighbor. If my apartment building burnt down it would be like his birthday coming early. He would be sitting on a lawn chair sipping some red wine watching all this destruction around him without even blinking. In fact, he might even start crying at the "beauty" of it all. His face would probably resemble that of Nicolas Cage's character in "8mm" where he watches snuff porn.
Annnnyway, my little apartment is so hot the walls are seriously sweating, its either that or the old lady upstairs died while taking a bath and the water is overflowing and flooding the building, but I'll let my cheap ass arab landlord handle that one. You might think my comments about the old lady who lives above me are mean, but if you knew her you would take my side. She calls me names like "hairless yeti" and tells me I'm the reason people are starving all over the world. She also thinks I use all the water in the building, like somehow I magically redirect all the water in the building to my apartment when I shower, just because I am a seriously large person. Well, I'll tell you one thing, I don't even bother to turn on the fan anymore when I give birth to smelly chocolate babies in the bathroom. And hot air rises. I know she smells it when she bangs on the floor with what could be a sledgehammer, but its probably her walker. It reminds me of that drug commercial where the nice quaint family is living in the apartment above a meth addict who has a meth lab below them and the fumes are escaping into the nice family's apartment from the cooking meth below them. Thats almost exactly this scenario, except I'm cooking a chili based peanut buttery textured paste in my abdomin , not meth. The whole fumes thing is the same. They both are toxic, and I bet both could get you high...if you were so desperate that you needed a methane/meth high.
I don't get drugs anyway. I tried drugs, and guess what? No I'm not gonna give you the stereotypical fat guy answer which is "I just got the munchies and ate more". No, what happened when I tried drugs is that I spent a lot of money just to hang around my apartment. I just sat in here eating unpopped kernels of pop corn, which I guess would just be called corn. And actually, now that I think about it, I may have eaten a little more than usual, or at least thats the excuse I tell myself in order to eat more without feeling guilty about hogging the worlds food supply. Maybe I'm not trying the right drugs. Maybe I need like crack or speed to help me lose weight. I know my crazy neighbor has bottles and bottles of chloroform, but I don't think its for him. Ok, well I think I just heard my landlord scream "allah be merciful", which means he either found that old lady's bloated, decomposing, water-soaked body or the pipes leading from my toilet burst in the walls below my apartment again due to a major blockage. Either one will satisfy me I guess. Keep you posted.
