Paul and I live at the end of the hall in our apartment building. As we walk down the hall, the first door on the right houses the strangest woman ever. Maybe not ever, but she is super creepy and probably inbred. Not that I have ever gotten a good look at her in fear of turning into stone.
Firstly, her door is always open. I don’t mean this in a sweet, hospitable way. I mean that her door is literally always cracked open and she has a make-shift shower curtain up to block people from peaking in. A shower curtain. In her doorway. I guess that’s a thing now.
Secondly, she is always making some sort of food that smells like a rotting carcass. Maybe if she closed her door I wouldn’t have to gag and run for sanctuary in my place. My upstairs neighbor believes the crazy lady was cooking cow tongue. I don’t know which is more revolting: the fact that she might have been eating tongue, or that fact that someone I consider a friend knows what cow tongue smells like. I’m currently re-evaluating our friendship.
Lastly, this same friend has talked to the crazy shower curtain lady and apparently she showed him her butt. Lovely. I mean, I guess I’m kind of jealous. And by jealous I mean that I want to throw up. He should probably wash his eyes out with vodka.