“If you don’t open this door, Drew, I’m calling the police to break it down, I swear to God!” When I say the word bitch I mean it in the most affectionate way possible, I swear. “Drew! Drew, I know you’re in there! Open the goddamn door!” I ignore the pounding, though it comes again. What the hell is he here for? He’s going to be sorry when he gets my Christmas tip this year, you can bet your ass. Maybe the fourth time’s the charm, huh?įrigging doorman. I’ve watched it three times today, but I haven’t laughed yet. Watching Will Ferrell’s greatest hits on the plasma.Īnchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy’s on right now. It was so comfortable I decided to stay right here. See-the flu, right? I couldn’t sleep any more, so I planted myself here, on my trusty couch. When I did eventually drag my ass out of bed, I felt weak and nauseous. But instead of rising from the bed to go to the office where I’m a star, I threw the clock across the room, smashing it to kingdom come. My alarm went off at five a.m., like always. How long does the flu last anyway? Ten days? A month? Mine started a week ago. That’s why I turned my phone off, why I’ve gotten off the couch only to use the bathroom or to bring in the food I order from the delivery guy. That’s why I’ve been holed up in my apartment the last seven days. Has a nice ring to it, if you say it enough.Īt least I’m pretty sure that’s what I have. Do you think they do that on purpose? To make it a nice way to say you feel like something that dropped out of your dog’s ass? Have you ever noticed some of the worst sicknesses in history have a lyrical sound to them? Words like malaria, diarrhea, cholera. So, like I said-what you’re seeing right now isn’t the real me. The decor is modern-lots of black and stainless steel-and anyone who enters knows a man lives there. And it has every modern convenience, every big-boy toy you can think of: surround sound, satellite speakers, and a big-screen plasma that would make any man fall on his knees and beg for more. The one I usually live in is spotless I have a girl come by twice a week. The tables and floor are littered with beer bottles, pizza boxes, and empty ice cream tubs. The shades are drawn, and the furniture glows with a bluish hue from the television. My apartment? Yeah, the one I’m in right now. I wear shoes that cost more than your rent. In real life, I’m well-groomed, my chin is clean-shaven, and my black hair is slicked back at the sides in a way I’ve been told makes me look dangerous but professional.
DO YOU SEE THAT UNSHOWERED, unshaven heap on the couch? The guy in the dirty gray T-shirt and ripped sweatpants?
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