Biggie pissed on my bed last night. I took off the sheets and scrubbed the mattress. Since my bed had been pissed on, I had to sleep on the couch in the living room. I brought my mattress into the living room because the windows would be kept open and I could let it air dry. I woke up around 6 am because that little orange asshole was meowing, apparently his fat ass had to eat and he needed to alert everyone in the neighborhood. I look at the mattress, and yes, he pissed on it again. Thanks a heap you little fucker.
We need window guards pronto. The super, Rafael, told me that the management said no. At least that's what I could decipher after listening to him for ten minutes. I'm pretty sure he speaks one of those dead languages you only hear from tribal witch doctors.
I drove to New Hampshire today in order to play a gig in Maine tomorrow night. I left Brooklyn at 2 pm, and arrived at home close to 9pm. That's seven hours. It usually takes four hours. I started off by going through Flatbush by order of my GPS. Big mistake. Close to an hour later, I'm on the BQE, and that had been turned into one lane as you approach the Whitestone bridge. This is around the time rush hour begins. I'd like to meet the mastermind who thought that up, so I could buy some of that awesome crack he's smoking. It took me 3 hours to travel 60 miles. I should have walked to NH.
To Do:
Get a job
Clean mattress
Be productive
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