You know how your mom used hand you an umbrella as you walked out the door, and then you had to drag it everywhere with you, all day, and then it didn't fucking rain?
Do you remember getting smart?
You told your mom to fuck off and left the house without your umbrella.
You rebel, you.
And then, it fucking poured.
I find that the NYC Sanitation Department is something like my mom's mystical umbrella.
The Brooklyn Nester's garbage day is Wednesday. So, Tuesday night, we either motivate to bring down all our shit OR we decide that we're waking up early enough to get it all down to the curb before the fat lady sings.
I can't fucking win though.
If we convince our drunk asses to bring all the trash down at 1AM...it is still sitting on the curb when I leave the apartment at 8AM.
If we don't take it down, that shit-ass-muthafucka of a garbage truck will inevitably wake me up at 6AM.
Bullshit people. Utter bullshit. How am I expected to Nest under these conditions?!
I sometimes think that throwing my umbrella in the trash could offset this quandary, but, I fear combining these two mysterious sources of power would result in immediate and certain death.
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