From Stripping to Peep Shows: This Post is Complete Smut

Phew! The Great Midtown Roommate Hunt Stage 2 went off relatively well last night, all things considered. I interviewed seven people: five girls, two guys, one disaster, one princess, and one salsa-dancing tax accountant. By the end of the night, even I didn’t want to live in my apartment. I also ignored an email from a girl named Crystal Ho, because I don’t really have room in the living room for a stripper pole. Hopefully I’ll have everything squared away tonight.

Despite my bitching, I’m a tiny bit excited about having a new roommate. I don’t have a ton of close girl friends, and the ones I have don’t live in Manhattan, so it’s helpful to have someone around for those “is this dress too slutty without a bra?” moments. (Good Roommate Answer: Yes, but wear it anyway!) Of course, sharing my apartment with someone after I’ve readjusted to living alone will be a bit tough, and it’ll really cut into my hanging around naked time. The obvious solution is to up the ante on my in-bedroom nakedness to make up for lost time. I’m sure my neighbors across the street won’t mind.

Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as comfortable with potential voyeurism as I am. It’s not that I desire it or seek it out; it just doesn’t occur to me as something over which to worry. I have curtains in my bedroom, but they’re fairly sheer and usually tied open. And the curtains in my bathroom window (right next to the toilet) are always wide open. One friend has considerable difficulty with the idea of peeing next to an open window even though he realizes that the nearest windows are a flight down and the angle is impossible. Still, he retaliates by leaving the toilet seat up and it's only a matter of time before I fall in (and then throttle him).

Loud Guy just said into his phone, “You’re my boy, Blue!” It's time to go home.