This is my apartment. Isn’t she a cute one? She’s quite large for a New York dwelling and decorated at the hands of yours truly. She makes for a happy home, and when shared with a loud Hungarian who owns a 17 year old incontinent cat, the good times never stop.
Do you hear that? Dinner must be ready.
That means it’s time for the poofy haired hooligan (I say hooligan with love, the poofy haired kid is my favorite) at 4C to go home. He’s probably outside, but that doesn’t mean his mom shouldn’t scream for him, the building carries sound very well.
For Example, when someone, anyone, is playing music in their apartment, the whole building gets to share in the lovely melodies. It’s especially delightful when I get to dance to one song in my bedroom and cook to another song in the kitchen. I never need to turn on my own music. Thanks neighbors!
Psst, I also never need to smoke my own marijuana because someone else will do it for me and share the aroma. It’s really quite thoughtful of them.
If we take a step outside I’ll show you to the pool. It’s really convenient that I have a pool on my block that is open ALL the time! I can go in the middle of the night, or even while it’s raining. However, on especially hot days the pool is really crowded.
If you need to buy groceries in my neighborhood, you’re in luck there are a lot of stores in the area. My building is on top of a deli which makes delicious sandwiches and has one ply toilet paper. This is also where my novio works. (Although, I don’t see the point in having an extra boyfriend if he doesn’t give me any free stuff.)
This is just a small corner store though so if they don’t have what you are looking for you can hop on over to the cat pee store that is only half a block away. Here you have a selection of warm milks and overly fragrant meats. Of all the cat pee stores though, I must say this one has the most adorable cat. If he’s not in the store taking care of the rat problem you can often find him on the street eating garbage.
If you still need a bigger selection, just three blocks down Broadway is a larger store where you can generally find everything you need, except so far, hollandaise sauce and chow mien noodles, but who do I think I am trying to be fancy.
Let’s swing around and head back up to my apartment and walk along St Nicholas Ave. I like walking on St. Nick because, analyzing the data, it is clear that I am better looking on this street.
If this isn’t evidence, I don’t know what is. I’m even more attractive than on the subway platform and I am ALWAYS getting hit on while waiting for the train… Or on the train…
As we head back to my apartment sidestep that guy talking to himself, plug your nose right here, and try to avoid that throw up.
I’d also like you to take note of the couple having an intense argument through the window. I have a theory about these two. You see, they are just so in love and filled with La Passiόn that they express their love by chasing each other around with baseball bats. Sometimes their love gets so intense that he needs to leave to give them both space to cool down. But as he’s leaving she yearns for more time and beckons him through the window, “STOP! We can’t leave it like this.” He's too angry to come inside, but is so locked in the heat of the moment that he stands right there on the street and tells her how he feels. Loudly. Angrily.
Well, there you have it. Washington Heights, where bras double as shirts and lawn chairs were made for sidewalk parlors. Hope you enjoyed the tour, please come back and see me soon.