Sitting in my Brooklyn apartment, hungry, drawing on my wall, not sure when I last showered, and still shitting last nights liquor, I am very grateful I grew up in a suburban middle class neighborhood. Though my family wasn’t the cookie cutter all American type, both of my parents worked hard to provide a comfortable life for my siblings and I. I didn’t have to worry about drive-bys, crackheads trying to jerk me off behind a Walmart, and being forced to eat my cereal with water because we couldn’t buy milk this week.

In a gated community you have other things to worry about, like learning cools tricks with your bike, playing Pogs, and of course violent video games on Nintendo 64 (This is speaking of when I was in Middle School, today it would be Nintendo Wii). This of course this was taken for granted in my tween and teenage years, but as a poor, struggling 20 something I sure wish I had some Pogs and my Nintendo 64.

Living on your own isn’t all it’s cut out to be. If you had terribly strict dick munching parents then maybe living on your own is a big importance. But for me living rent free in a nice house with a tub and a toaster seems pretty ideal (You heard me. I do not have a toaster and my shower is the size of a Mormons vagina).

Yes you can walk around naked in your own house, but why can’t I do that in my Mom’s house? It’s not like she’s never seen a wiener. If anything I think she’d be proud to see the handsome wiener her son likes to strut around. I guess it’s also nice being able to have sex wherever I want in my house, but seeing as I have been dating my girlfriend for almost 2 and 1/2 years, we have sex in the same place…nowhere. I’m always tired and she’s always constipated. Love really is a magical thing. It’s like rain, just instead of droplets of water, it’s like droplets of magic. Little droplets of magic just falling from the sky. It’s so magical.

I’ve also found food to be a major concern while surviving in my own dwellings. Whatever food I do have must be guarded at all hours, due to overweight unactivated roommates trying to jack my cookies. Therefore I am left with a single meal a day (Two meals if it’s a holiday, and if I go to the local homeless shelter). That meal tends to be a can of tuna with whatever I can find to mix it with (Note: Don’t mix tuna with Landry detergent. Though it smells great, I have found it to be quite toxic and has almost killed me several times). I did buy a couple boxes of Captain Crunch, but unfortunately the milk expired 11 days ago. I tried smelling it and I threw up in my mouth. I assume I’ll cover my nose as I eat the Captain Crunch and 11 day old milk for dinner.

Living on your own sucks, inless you’re rich. I’m looking to knock up a rich girl in the coming months to help with my financial issues. Are you rich? Wanna have a baby? Cool.

I’m actually getting so frustrated that I’m not in at one of my parent’s houses (They’re divorced) in Florida watching HGTV that I am ending this post and going to sleep.

22 pounds skinnier than I was last year,

Daniel Dickey

Sorry I haven’t blogged in a couple day, I have been working on some new sites I just purchased. They should be pretty gangsta, and you’ll for sure want to get jiggy with them. BUT I did just write a verse for a musical I’m working on, about a evil Baker that tries killing all the towns people with the food he bakes. Here’s his opening verse.

I’m just a baker, just a very evil baker/

I cook cakes, I cook pies, I’m the devils cookie maker/

I put poison in brownies, I put poison in the bread/

I put poison in everything, just to that insure you are dead/

There’s acid in the crumpets, and toxins in the tarts/

When the poison hits your blood, it will surely stop your heart/

The venom in my pies, have a wonderful disguise/

It taste just like syrup, but will burnt out both your eyes/

I put infections in the yeast, so please enjoy the feast/

I won’t stop until you’re buried, very dead you are deceased/

I dream to kill them all, brothers sisters mothers cousins/

I’ve killed thirteen in one night, oh it was a bakers dozen/

Dark, deep, and black, is how I see my mood/

Death, dead, and murder, the only ingredients in my food/

Cause I’m hungry for dessert, and death is always something sweet/

What is a roommate? Someone who eats your last pop tart when you’re at work? Someone to flirt with your girlfriend when you’re in the shower and she’s a little drunk and maybe flirting back? Someone to use your computer to look at underage porn, that way the FBI will track it back to me and ruin my chances at running for President? Someone that enjoys watching the dishes pile higher and higher? Someone that I swear uses my shampoo, but can’t prove it because the bathroom door is closed, but I have put a camera in the bathroom, just next time I will aim it at their head? All questions with many answers…but who has them?

I have always had roommates growing up. Their names were sister one, sister two, Mom and Dad. They were alright. Mom always cooked. Dad always drove me places. Sister one let me hit her in the head with an encyclopedia once to see if it would knock her out. Sister two still makes a big deal about the time I tied her up, put a sock in her mouth, put her in a box, and told her I was shipping her far far away. But overall they weren’t that bad. My new roommates are quite different. Let me explain…

Do to the fact I must stare into their beady black eyes every morning I will not bash them with the intensity that I do when I secretly curse them out in my head.

One leaves the toilet seat up. One leaves it down. Another pees in the sink. She blames it on religious beliefs. I think she is a liar, and most of the time make sure to brush my teeth before she uses the bathroom.

One eats my food without asking. One eats my food after asking. Another tried licking my ears when I was sleeping. He too blamed this on religious beliefs. I not sure if I believed it this time.

One won’t take out the trash. One takes it out too frequently. Another has been caught several times going through my trash and eating it. He blamed this on a personal fetish and slight psychological disorder. I did believe that.

One likes to sleep in the nude. One likes to sleep in my bed. Another likes to sleep with my girlfriend. She has woken up on many occasions and found him spooning her lower body. He said he sleep walks. Why hasn’t her walked anywhere else?

One plays the music too loud. One plays the music to low. Another still tries to play the recorder from fifth grade. It sounds like a feminine Dolphin trying to squeeze out a wicked fart. He said women digg guys that know how to play an instrument. I say you are ruining my life.

One hasn’t cleaned since she moved in. One is obsessive compulsive and cleans everyday. Another has been sniffing all of the cleaning products and started a small fire in the living room. I don’t think she speaks English.

One never takes showers. One takes too many showers. One takes very weird pictures of himself showering and puts them in the meat drawer of our refrigerator. When I ask him why he does this, he just smiles and begins licking his fingers.

Roommates? These are mine.

Can you guess which ones do what?

Daniel Dickey