Yet unfortunatelyer, another in what has undoubtedly become a trying series of uncomfortably reflective lists

Things I’ve Learned from Every New York Apartment I’ve Ever Had

1998-1999 (SoHo): Living with your best friend might backfire if you immediately start dating some total fucking asshole who alienates her and you lack the balls to take her side even though you should; also, no matter how grateful you are that someone found a NY apartment, if one bedroom is twice as big as the other, the person with the smaller bedroom should pay less rent, or else she will become increasingly petty and resentful and many things will go unaired and a terrific friendship will be destroyed for fairly shallow reasons.

1999 (West Village): Never, ever, ever move in with a major fucking jerk who plays EverQuest all day long and thinks it’s fun to say horrible things to you, no matter how much rent you think this may or may not save you. Being able to walk to work is great. Generation Records is swell. Closets are underrated.

1999-2000 (Williamsburg): When a real estate broker claims a building is "lively," he means "there is a powerful ring of crack dealers who set up business each and every day in the lobby; they will shut the door with a screwdriver to make sure nobody they don’t know can come in." Also, crack smells like cookies. Oddly enough. "Williamsburg friends" lose all magical friendship properties when outside the boundaries of the neighborhood. No matter how many people wear one, a mullet will never be "ironically fashionable." The Abbey was cool once, then it wasn’t, now it is again.

2000-2001 (Carroll Gardens Part Un): Marriage at 24 to someone you barely know is a bad idea; marriage to someone whose mother is a compulsive stuff-collector means that you will have way too much stuff for your tiny little place. A George Foreman Grill is awesome; when you realize your entire life has come down to how much you like your George Foreman Grill, it’s time to get the hell out of marriage at 24.

2001-2002 (Upper West Side): It is entirely possible to live in a 180-square-foot studio if it belongs entirely to you. Paying $1450 for the privilege, however, is another story entirely. The median bedtime for the Lincoln Center crowd is 6 p.m. Living across the hall from "a screamer" is the following succession of things: horrifying, annoying, amusing, cumbersome, horrifying again. Trash chutes rule. Having cable TV and no roommates makes you realize that you just spent 48 hours without leaving the house or talking to anyone else and may have turned your brain into goo.

2002-2004 (14th Street): Taking up with a fillum ack-tore will put you in digs far beyond your means. What good is a courtyard if you get evicted for going in it? Pinchy bugs are horrifying! Walls can get pretty wet before they fall in. A big coat of red paint will make a kitchen look swell. Central air-conditioning is unbefrickinlievable, but when said system is old, it smells kind of funny. Living in a highrise building means that invariably someone could jump out of one of the windows and die. A bedroom without windows may make you depressed.

2004-2005 (Carroll Gardens Part Deux): Nobody should ever put the heat up to 80 degrees; that is ridiculous. Trash day is Tuesday. Churches make good neighbors. Fratelli makes the world’s best food. A fourth-floor walkup is hard to move into but relatively easy to move out of in a massive-assed hurry.

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