Are you a fan of the HBO TV show Girls? Do you want to be happy and to stop living experiences for other people? Do you believe that your life represents a commentary on the state of the Caucasian, 20-something, used-to-be-upper-middle-class-but-now-only-sometimes-benefit-from-the-wealth-and-status-of-your-parents demographic? Well search no further; we have the perfect living experience for you.
We’ve got a one room for sublet in a three bedroom (used to be two) livable and trendy but trashy-enough-to complain-about-apartment. Living with us is essentially the real life version of the TV show.
Roommates -One gay roommate, with a penchant for backhanded compliments, adding the oh-so-needed bitchiness to a night in of getting drunk and re-watching 90s TV shows. He is everything you might want in a roommate: neurotic, judgmental, and certainly more attractive than you.
-One roommate named Hannah (for reals) with the fashion sense of a homeless kindergartener. She shares a number of wardrobe items with Lena Dunham, but also adds a flare of originality through such novelties as elephant pants. She self-identifies as an “artist.”
-Both of us graduated from college two years ago and moved to New York to “follow our careers.” Watch as we navigate the minefield that is our 20s and tackle the challenges of our generation, including: Is it appropriate to sleep with [person X], and would you judge me if I did? Which Thai restaurant should I order from tonight? And how does one install a coat rack onto an electrical panel? (But really if you know the answer to that last one, please drop us a line.)
Who knew that the longest essay I’d write would be about my probably least-favorite album (of the final five)? Not me! But I do like the album. It’s just such a weird, emotional thing.
“The crack house also doubled as a music venue, and when Berman showed up, a vile Frenchman was performing, the kind of artist who shits on crosses.”
cmon fader bro, justice weren’t THAT bad
Welcome to A-Town
Citizens of Atlanta refer to Atlanta as:
Southern living at its finest: Slowww dowwwn
In New York, customer service is chop-chop fast. Everyone is fast. Life is fast. It’s different in Atlanta. You’re on “South time,” not “North time.” Customer service will get to you as soon as they can, meaning after they help the person in front of you, genuinely ask them how their day is, ask them how their life is, answer the phone, take a sip of water, answer the phone again, find a pen, smile and then finally get to you. They’ll smile the entire time, so smile back. Restaurants do things the same way.
Ma’am and Sir
In New York, we call people by their first name. Generally, not in Atlanta. Everyone is either Ma’am, a Sir, or Miss Maria, Mr. Andrew, Miss Sally, etc.
After all, the Mets’ rallying cry isn’t “Perhaps you should consider believing.” It’s “Ya gotta believe!” It’s mandatory. Reason doesn’t enter into it. Math has no meaning to those who still remain. A Mets fan doesn’t root for the Mets because it makes sense. A Mets fan roots for the Mets because of an otherworldly ability to dream that things will be better than they seem, regardless of realities financial or outfield.
And an I.B.O. joins Amway hoping to make money, despite critics who charge that nearly everyone who joins Amway loses money. Amway doesn’t present an alternative fact, but open the binder every new I.B.O. receives, one that was given to me, and written in five languages is a quote from co-founder Jay Van Andel: “You can’t predict the future, but you can follow your dreams.”
Of one thing I am sure: every single person involved with this movie is a complete scumbag unworthy of human life.
FOUR MARXES PLUS FOUR OBAMAS PLUS FOUR BIN LADENS