Monday, December 26, 2011

Things in an elevator, or The Story of Dave

So, practically every day I come home from work and get in the elevator, I find something different on the elevator floor. I have decided that I should keep a running tally of the things on the floor of the elevators in my building.

So far, since they removed the carpet from the elevators and eliminated the dog pee problem (YAY!) there have been the following things, roughly in order of appearance:

  1. Puddle of beer, probably half a can, splattered all over the elevator. Floor, walls, not ceiling. The ceiling is like 10+ feet high, so they didn't drop it with enough gusto. Maybe next time.
  2. Tallboy of Keystone Light. Probably empty, 'cause there was another one right outside the lobby doors. Somebody was trying really hard to get drunk on cheap beer. Hope that worked out and that they didn't just end up having to pee a lot.
  3. A nice looking red travel coffee mug with a spout cap on it. This made it out into the lobby later that evening.
  4. Shattered bottle of 101 proof peppermint schnapps. Easily the most pleasant smelling elevator disaster so far, but sticky and shards of glass everywhere.
  5. The Saddest Condom in the Universe. Still in the package, and it looked like it'd been through the laundry twice. I seriously almost took a picture of this one, but there was somebody else in the elevator with me and taking a picture of a discarded condom seems like something one should do while nobody is looking.
So, here's what I'm pretty sure happened. I'm going to name the character in this story Dave, after my lizardman in Skyrim. (Don't judge me. Dave is a perfectly good name for a lizardman in a fantasy world RPG. A PERFECTLY GOOD NAME.) Also, I will warn you, this is possibly in the top 10 worst stories ever written. So don't say I didn't warn you. 

The entire reason I posted this was because I started to crack a joke on Facebook, and it got too long to fit in a status update. So, here you go. Without further ado...

Thursday, December 22, 2011

What I do when I'm not really with it

So, for anyone who hasn't been keeping up on my goings-on over the last -- oops, six months now -- I moved into a fairly tall building downtown.

Now, I don't know if ALL buildings do this, but this one occasionally decides it wants to dance a little, and I get that "I'm on a boat" feeling. Which, now that I've been here for a few weeks, is either happening less frequently, or I'm getting used to it.

In possibly related news, last night I had a dream.

In this dream, I had a bunch of people over to visit the new apartment. That part was unremarkable until the building decided it was going to collapse. So, I'm looking out my window (in the real world, I'm 11 floors up.. I don't know how high up my apartment in Inception-land was, really) as the entire top half of the building starts to lean, and eventually dive (strangely gracefully) into the pavement far below, with everyone standing in it. This was a calmer experience than one might imagine from being in a giant tangle of concrete and steel and glass that has decided to turn itself into rubble instead of eco-friendly housing.

At any rate, shortly after that, we'd all escaped one way or another -- clearly, this part was unimportant -- and were standing in another building some distance away, looking at the remains of my apartment building, which was mostly reduced to a concrete pancake. I was considering how to get back to the apartment, figuring that if I could get back over there, I could see if my apartment was still intact in there somewhere. While considering this very sensible idea, I discovered that the problem was not simply my building, but that some sort of apocalyptic Akira-esque disaster was brewing. The ground tore asunder in curvy swaths of chaos, buildings all over downtown shredded as though they were being kicked by an invisible Godzilla, and we all just stood there watching. Again, this was not even bothersome, it was just there. No one was concerned about things like "oh no, what is going on," or "oh no, what if there are people trapped," or anything of the sort. Just a day in the life.

So, then I woke up.

But just before I woke up, I figured out what the entire theme of this dream was, as it was summarized right as my alarm brought me back into the land of the living:

"Shit! Where is my iPhone?"


(My apartment was still here when I got back from work and seems to have not fallen over, just in case anyone felt the need to read too much into this post. And I promise that if you come visit, that it will not, in fact, fall over and crush you under millions of tons of steel and concrete and glass. Well, I promise that the odds are relatively slim, anyway. Unless I fall asleep. Then you're on your own, apparently.)