i JUST got into my apt from visiting erin and dre in harlem. happy birthday dre, by the way.
i’m using my roommate’s laptop to check email.
i have to be physically ON the train en route to work in 5 hours and 8 minutes…approximately.
all of this is irrelevant.
the door downstairs at the entrance to my building is usually controlled by a magnet…that…releases… once the correct key is inserted and turned. simple.
it was broken for about three weeks. not due to mechanical failure, but i witnessed a guy (let’s assume he was some species of junkius-bobbybrownius) kick and kick and kick and kick the door until it flew open, allowing him entry. so…i, too, got away with not having a key.
they fixed it this weekend. and i just got my feelings hurt; i had to wait 12 minutes for some exiting junkie woman to let me in. fuckshit.
so…i just heard the unmistakeable sound of a THICK metal door being kicked open downstairs. kick. kick. kick. kick. kick. kick. tyrone must need a hit BAD.
again, i can get away without having a key to the front door.
things i hate #328: knowing any random brooklyn junkie or scorned akon fan can saunter into my building at any hour of the night.
(this is why i miss living with/near/surrounded by white people. they do NOT tolerate such fuckery.)