WEBSITE: —
LOCATION: Brooklyn
RECORDS: 12
LATEST RECORD: over 2 years ago
JOINED: January 17, 2010
LOCATION: Brooklyn
RECORDS: 12
LATEST RECORD: over 2 years ago
JOINED: January 17, 2010
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Brief Disbelief My super gives me free weed. In all honesty, I watched it grow in the backyard behind what could only be described as the least clever way of hiding growing weed. I won’t even bother with the details. Suffice it to say, by harvest time, there were 1/3 less weed plants growing where they had been planted. The last one left out of pity, I’m certain. He knocks on my door when he has it to give and I gladly accept. His timing is odd. I always seem to just be getting out of the shower. I don’t smoke with him and I thank him loudly… In the hallway. I keep offering money. He keeps refusing. This arrangement can only be good for a short period of time for a few reasons: 1) I get something I enjoy for free. 2) My super clearly has something else in mind. He will stop offering eventually. This, I’m positive of. Its like there was a silent negotiation going on that I wasn‘t even a participant in. He was handing me baggies and I was saying thanks. To me that exchange meant, “Cool, I get to blaze all afternoon.” To him it read a little more like this, “I’mma tag that ass up one day. Take this ‘til then.” If we’re gearing up for something big like the consummation of this imaginary exchange of weed for sex, shouldn’t we both be prepared? What if I wanted to shave? Is that something to spring on someone? What would Emily Post say? I should just turn it down when he offers. Wait. Why? He hasn’t asked me for anything. I haven’t given. I know what he wants… He won’t ask for it. That would make me a whore. He won’t call me a whore out loud. He’ll just expect me to act like the whore I so clearly am and won’t admit to. I would think this is an arrangement we would both have to clearly agree to up front. All parties and due entities step forth and make your wants be known. Before hand. Really. He’s nearly toothless. He’s gotta be 60. There’s a growth hanging off of his eyeball. He’s not my type. |
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