Monday, August 14, 2017

LIVING WITH A NAZI!

My apartment mate is at times a dreadful dragon lady. Really, I cannot believe that woman. When she is in, I have to smoke in the kitchen.
Which I prepared to do today, but she nearly exploded. It turns out she was preparing food to take over to her boy friend's place, and he is VERY SENSITIVE!

I was standing near her mashed potatoes.

Which are also very sensitive.


I am reminded of that advert from two years where an overweight Stanley Kowalski in the top apartment of a building lights up a cigarette, the smoke whisps all the way around the building, travels all the way to the basement apartment at the other end of the building ten floors below and at the other side of the block, and makes the little black orphan who is deaf, dumb, blind, asthmatic, and in a wheelchair curl up in agony, screaming his voiceless pain, despair, and angst, oh, it is so sad!

Evil heartless Stanley Kowalksi!

The asthmatic orphans!

Wheelchairs!


Her boyfriend is in a wheelchair. And hates tobacco.

Personally, I feel that portraying the smoker as an overweight Stanley Kowalski type, white and crude looking, is fat-shaming and stereotyping, and I'm horrified at the judgmentalism. Plus it's genderist! Far all anyone knows I might have a tall statuesque black amazon within, a proud fluid Nubian princess, of indeterminate and variable sexual preferences!

As far as I recall, her boyfriend is not deaf, dumb, blind, asthmatic, OR given to despair and angst. And rather than living in the building, he's over two dozen blocks away with a hill in-between.
So the heck with him.


I ended up smoking in the bathroom.


Later, when she's gone to bed and her door is closed, I'll enjoy the last pipe of the day in the television room, before retiring myself.


Normally she's not such a smoke nazi.
But, you know, potatoes.




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