New York Apartment

I live in New York City. I moved up here after I got- after I quit drinking. And uh, New York City. I moved there from Texas, by the way. Get this, man. I left in Houston, Texas, my apartment. 1400 square feet, balcony, 30 floors up, air conditioner, centralized, dishwasher, washer, dryer, free parking... drumroll... *mimics drumroll* $400 dollars a month. Ha ha ha ha! What a fucking idiot, huh? I feel like a real moron.

I moved in an apartment. I can touch one wall with that hand, the other wall with that foot... $1000 dollars a month! It's Super Moron! *dun, dun dun-dun-dun, dun!* I can answer the door, answer the phone, take a leak, be in the shower, all at once... for I am Super Moron! It’s unbelievable. All my friends call me up all the time, "Hey, living in New York! You been mugged yet?" I go, "Yeah. In fact, the first of every month! Ha ha. They got it systemized. Apparently, it's legal! It's a little wizened guy. ’Give me all your money.' 'Yeah, sure, huh huh!'" It's not an apartment, it's a COMpartment. I should've read the fucking ad better. This thing has a Murphy tub.

You know, the sad thing is I tell people who live in New York about my apartment and they all- to a man, they go, "You got a great deal." "Where the fuck do YOU live!?" "I live in your Murphy tub. Twelve hundred a month." "I thought that was a roach!" "No, it's me. Quit spraying me."

Jesus, sorry. That’s not very good, you know... apartment relations. Spraying Raid on your neighbor.