Hola, amigos. How's it going? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've been cheek-deep in a ditch of shit. First of all, the Anchowermobile got clipped a couple weeks ago by some woman in a giant SUV. It was raining out, so it was hard to see, and I was trying to pull out of a parking lot between two huge trucks. She must not have noticed me, because the next thing you know, I hear this loud crunch. Fucked up my fender good, but it didn't even scratch the SUV.
She called the cops but she got put on hold. The whole time, I'm standing there in the rain shitting my pants trying to figure out whose fault it was. While we were waiting, one police car drove by without even stopping. So after five minutes on hold, she said she was in a hurry and asked if I wanted to file a police report. I said I was cool if she was, and we took off. It's a good thing the cops didn't show up, because I haven't had insurance in like three years, and I didn't need that hassle.
Like that wasn't enough trouble, I had to move into a new place last month. Moving's always a bitch. You know I already moved once this year when my old pad was flooded out and I went to stay with my friend Ron and his old lady until I could line something else up. But that didn't work out, and I had to get out of there in a hurry.
See, at first, it was a pretty sweet setup. Ron and I drove into work at the discount warehouse together, so I barely had to pay for gas. After work we'd smoke up and watch some movie. When his old lady got home, we'd go hit a bar or something. With no rent to pay, I had plenty of money for getting pretty twisted. Plus, his girlfriend always kept good beer in the fridge, Stella or some shit like that. That's living large, like I was in some fancy hotel or something.
But after like two months of living there, it started to feel like a prison with gold bars. Ron and his girl were always making out on the couch or getting uptight about a couple dishes I left in the living room or whatever. Their shower got clogged real easy, too, and they didn't have soap, they had these moisturizing bars that left my skin feeling greasy. That shit was totally undignified. It was really putting a dent in my style, so I was itching to leave.
I was getting pretty close to letting them know that I was going to start looking for a place when Ron just out of the blue went apeshit. I got home from partying one night, and I needed something to eat, so I went to the fridge and saw there was a pizza box with two slices left in it. Someone wrote "Ron" on the box, but I was like, yeah, duh, who else would have bought this pizza? I chowed down on them and went to bed.
Next thing I know, I'm being woken up by Ron, who is all up in my face yelling something about me not kicking in with rent and eating all his pizza that he was saving for lunch without ever buying any myself and coming home late and drunk and leaving the door wide open.
I knew he was right about the door, so I offered to buy him a pie right there, but he said that wasn't the point. He just grabbed all my stuff, which was not that much, and threw it outside. Once I went out to grab it, he slammed the door right in my face, like in a movie or something. He must have been thinking about it for a while, because he changed the locks on me, too.
It's not like I never bought anything. There was still like a half a gallon of milk in the refrigerator that I paid for, but did he throw that out with my stuff? No, he kept it for himself. I would have said something about it, but I'm a bigger man than that.
I can't believe Ron would give me the old heave-ho after we been through so much together. I think his girlfriend put him up to it, because I used to mooch off of Ron all the time, and he never said boo. It was only after he hooked up with that skank that things started to go south. Well, whatever. I haven't talked to him since that happened. The only time we spoke was at work, when he threatened to fire me. He needs to cool down and come around before I make any peace offerings.
So now I'm in this new place, which is okay. I'm living with these three guys. They all got together and bought some old foreclosed-on house in a half-finished subdivision for next to nothing. They're gonna live there until the market is back on its feet, then they'll flip it for big money. They keep telling me not to get comfortable, because they'll sell the place right out from under me, but I'm gonna wait until the rest of the houses in the neighborhood get finished and sell before I start to worry too much.
It's maybe a little further away from the action than I'd like, but there's a Blockbuster about half a mile away, and a liquor store right near it. Plus, I picked up a big 36-inch television that someone was throwing out. It works just fine. I mean, I don't get any channels because it's not digital and I live in a basement, but it plays DVDs and Wii. All I have to do is swing by the mall, get my videos and beer, and I can take the party home to my room in the basement.
If that ain't living, I'd like to know what is.
Jim Anchower joined The Onion's editorial writing staff in 1993 after several distinguished years on The Come Back Inn dishwashing staff. He comments on community-affairs, automotive, and employment issues. He attended LaFollette High School in Madison, WI.