Stuff Nobody Likes

Nobody likes People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway. And I’m not saying that facetiously. I honestly haven’t talked to anyone who likes them.

I first encountered People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway six months ago, when I was showing my apartment to a prospective roommate. As you could imagine, this wasn’t really the best time to meet People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway. I had decided to take the potential roommate up to my roof, to tout the lovely view and the ease of access thereof. When we got to the top floor, we saw People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway.

They were shooting up in my hallway.

Needless to say, the “prospective roommate” didn’t take the apartment.

I would later see People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway hanging out around the building, waiting for someone to open the front door to let them in. Presumably, so that they could visit with their alcoholic ex-boyfriend who lives on the third floor.

And also to shoot up in my hallway.

Finally, I had a talk with the ex-boyfriend of People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway. After that, I stopped seeing syringe wrappers decorating the hallway. So perhaps People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway no longer shoot up in my hallway. (Or at least they’ve learned to clean up after themselves.)

Pretty much everyone in my building is freaked out by People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway. However, their ex-boyfriend has been living here since the 70s, back when there were many more People Shooting Up In My Hallway. So they almost have more of a right to be here than we do.

In the past few years, I’ve gotten all manner of undeserved street cred for living in this neighborhood, especially from people who haven’t lived in the city since the 80s. Goddamn you, People Who Shoot Up In My Hallway, for making me earn some of it!

Tags: alphabet city, people who shoot up in my hallway

Some people like tourists. They can give vital economic life to remote communities. I know that I’ve brought considerable amounts of cash (ok, a little cash) and North American affability to many a tourist trap around the globe.

But when tourists take up the whole damn sidewalk… fuck ‘em.

Seriously.

Fuck them right in the face!

Now, I work on Wall Street. The Wall Street. You might have heard of it. Of course you’ve heard of it! That’s why you’re here this morning! I just dragged my overworked, underslept ass out of bed, forced my way onto a packed train, and now this herd of tourists (jet lag means they’ve been up and chipper for hours!) is blocking the way to my coffee source. This is not OK. I mean yes, I have gone to remote tourist attractions… but never ever ever have I gone to a Podunk town and taken a dump in a commuting worker’s cup of coffee. This is what NYC tourists are doing to my morning commute. Daily.

You see, these fancy tall buildings that you are gazing at in awe are actually famous for being centers of business and commerce. “What’s business and commerce?” you ask. Well, there’s no time to get into the details now, but, in simple terms, people work here. Taking a whole minute-and-a-half of my 5-minute-32-second lunch break to walk around you may seem like a friendly way to welcome you to our fair city, but instead, we tend to get a little pissed off. Oh, and the beaming smiles that you flash don’t help. They really just make it easier for us to walk right through your oh-so-pristine shots of homeless people dressed up like the Statue of Liberty. A quick aside - you know those guys live off suckers like you, right? And you realize that the real Statue of Liberty is 300 yards away, right? I mean, the real freakin’ McCoy.

I sometimes think I should start a special tour group for annoyed residents of New York, DC, Paris, Tokyo, London, etc. We would just travel to the great ringroads and bypasses of small cities around the industrialized world and eat picnic lunches in the middle of them, blocking all traffic.

Oddly enough, I’m actually writing this post to throw a bone to the French.

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Tags: commuting, obesity, tourists, work

(hic)

Shit. I hope hope hope that was a one-time thing. Please don’t let me actually have a case of the (hic)

DAMMIT!

(hic)

What? You think this is funny? You think this is (hic) AGGHHH! No, this isn’t funny. No, I’m not drunk! (hic) Okay, I had two beers, but I’m not (hic) I’m not drunk! What’s that? You wanna get me some bubbles and a little Tam O’Shanter to complete the picture? (hic) OW!

See this is what everybody forgets when they don’t have the (hic) hiccups themselves! It hurts! It hurts really, really badly!

(hic)

Not migraine or severed-foot bad, but it’s still (hic) like having repeated dry heaves, focused with laser-like intensity directly on your (hic) diaphragm, with each contraction pushing bile and stomach acid a little further up your chest cavity. (hic) And there’s no end in sight! (hic) Nothing you can do to ensure that it will stop!

(hic)

To make matters worse, there’s nothing pathological about it at all. (hic) Whereas if you’ve got a cold, you can curse the (hic) germs infesting your body, hiccups are just your body deciding to battle you over your breathing rhythms. (hic) They make it painfully (hic) THAT’S RIGHT PAINFULLY (hic) clear just how little control your higher brain actually has over your cerebellum. (hic) Ow! Fuck you, cerebellum!

And, of course (hic) science doesn’t give a damn. They’ve (hic) long since realized there’s no money in a cure for something that comes on unexpectedly and goes away before morning, and have given this one over to the domestic witch doctors. (hic) Hmmm… (hic) Should I try drinking from the wrong side of a glass? Or should I hope (hic) that one of my friends will startle the shit out of me and then (hic) say that they were doing it to help, while (hic) laughing their asses off at my expense?

(hic) Damn, there was a bit of a belch in that one.

I guess I’ll go with the good old breath-control method, as that has (hic) at least a whiff of medicine to it. (hic) I take a huge breath and wait…. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… It seems to be working, it seems to be working… Now, let it out, slowly. 1… 2… 3…

Huh.

Okay, so that seemed to work. Or at least it worked this time. In any case, you should always remember that it sucks far more to have hiccups than it does to simply remember having them. So help your friends get rid of them, no matter which method you choose. Nobody likes-

(hic)

FUCK!

Tags: awkwardness, hiccups, maladies, pain, so many wolves

How the fuck did you even get into my bed? Maybe I picked you up on the subway. Or maybe my roommate brought you home one night. Or maybe you wandered over from one of the other apartments in my building. In any case, you’re disgusting, you’re in my fucking bed, and you’re impossible to get rid of!

I’ve tried to kick you out. I’ve tried to poison you. I’ve even hired professionals to kill you. Still, you keep me awake at night, writhing in pain, wishing that you would go the hell away and leave me in peace. I can’t fucking take it anymore!

Yet, of all your sins, nothing is more reprehensible than your proclivity for non-consensual sex. Oh, sorry, did I say sex? What I meant to say was traumatic fucking insemination! 

You are a parasite in every sense of the word. You bite me all over my body and drink my blood for sustenance. Although the government has been desperately trying to execute you, an increasing number of New Yorkers fall victim to you every year. An enemy to all of humanity, the world would undoubtedly be better off without you.

Fuck you, bedbugs! Nobody likes you!

(NOTE: We at Stuff Nobody Likes are against all types of parasites that come into people’s beds without their consent. However, we only write about the ones that are kinda funny. Others are not so funny, and can be written up in other ways, such as arrest reports).

Tags: bedbugs, enemies of humanity, parasites, rapists, traumatic fucking insemination