Back to School — Papa’s Basement 464
A lot of high school students know exactly what they want out of life. Armed with this knowledge, they pick a college that excels in their major of choice, secure […]
About a month ago, I left the comfort of my mom’s home and moved into an apartment in an attempt to introduce a simulacrum of normalcy into my life. And, so far, it’s been okay: Sure, I miss my cats, getting my bed made and no crusts on my sandwiches, but I’m also able to defecate with the bathroom door open and keep the temperature at a level that would freeze the veins of an elderly women like the fuel lines of an old Ford pickup in a Montana winter, so it all evens out. Well, it evens out except for one thing: My neighbor is an abominable specimen of white trash.
Sure, I’ve lived next to white trash before, but it was fun white trash. You know, pretty much this, minus the couch. My new white trash owns multiple elevated trucks. And a pit bull. And a chinstrap beard that 1992 would be proud to call its own.
The problems I’ve had with this guy already aren’t going to get listed here because then you wouldn’t listen to the show (I have such a low opinion of myself) but, suffice to say, they’re numerable. And for those of you not intrigued by me griping about my neighbors, we dedicate the second half of the episode to co-host Pete and I having a gay music-off, which means admitting to the sissiest things we listen to and then playing them on air. I know that doesn’t sound very politically correct…and it isn’t. But let’s be honest: My love of Depeche Mode and New Order needs to be mocked publicly every so often. My neighbor certainly seems to think so.
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