Rumor has it there’s some strapping young fellow (I haven’t seen, have only heard about ) moving into the apartment across the hall from me that’s been like, empty for a month.
Which I thought at first was a good thing,
You know, good looking hot young guy walking across the hall shirtless in a towel knocking on my door under the pretense of “borrowing” some like, bath beads or something.
Or, of course there’s scenario #2 where good looking young guy’s good looking and single friend walks across the hall to my door under the pretense of “borrowing” a cup o’ sugar or something.
(Yeah, I know, this all begs a few questions that I am not prepared to answer, so whatever)…
Then it’s al total bow-chicka-bah-bah-boowh and stuff from there.
Feh! Yeah, right…
What will really happen on moving day will go a little something like this:
I sit still and stare in complete horror as I watch him and some of his Y Chromasomally Challenged buddies move in some IMAX sized Big Screen TV and overtly macho and gargantuan in proportion man-stereo complete with five foot speakers and some souped-up-dolby-sound-super-sonic-sub-woofer that’s guaranteed to poontz pootnz poontz poontz bad techno music in the wee hours of the morning failing miserably in masking the squeaking mattress and banshee shrieks of pleasure from whatever tart he managed to pick up at the pub down the street…
Or, he could be carrying crates and crates of books.
I’m hoping for the books.
Yeah, I’m a geek like that.
What of it?