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I don't really know how to begin this, but I'm just going to start by telling you that I've had the lousiest week, I really have. It all started when I was staying at my girlfriend's place. She lives over at the New Yorker Hotel on 34th and 8th. They try to make this seem like a big deal to you, they really do. But to tell you the truth it's the phoniest place I've ever been.

It was kind of a nice place though, when you first walk in. They have about fifty thousand leather couches in there and this huge crystal chandelier. I could go on describing the rest, but I'm not too crazy about describing stuff like that. To tell you the truth, the hotel is completely full of screwballs and bastards. You wouldn't think it at first, but stay there a couple nights a week like I have, and you'll really start to see a whole new side to the New Yorker.

Where my girlfriend lives in the building, is more like a dorm set-up. This place being a hotel and all, you'd think everything would be ritzy as hell, but let me tell you they keep these kids in worse conditions than in a goddamn prison. It really gets me sore as hell. The halls smell of rotting goats and curry, it's awful. You go into the rooms and find the sinks literally hanging off the walls. I once tried to use the sink to brush my teeth and the water literally came out brown. I would've gone straight down to one of the RA's and sock him right in the mouth, but I don't really get into fights. I'm a pacifist, to tell you the truth.

The first time I ever met my girlfriend's roommate, by the name of Alissa Cooney, it was under the unfortunate circumstance of waking her up late at night. I apologized like a madman and she said she forgave me,  but you could still tell she was sore about it. People usually do get pretty sore about that type of stuff.

 What can I say about old Alissa Cooney? She's a very peculiar girl, for one thing, her breath always smells like cool ranch dorito's and mountain dew. She can hold her booze like a goddamn champ though. Every time I was in that room she had another Four Loko in her hand. There was this one time, when she had about 40 or 50 drinks, She could down those things like a goddamn sailor. I was very impressed and all, but there was this one time that my girlfriend had to hold her hair all night while she blew chunks all over the bathroom, she was throwing up and farting all over the place, she practically shit her pants.  That kinda stuff really gives me a bang sometimes.

Everything was going pretty well with Alissa until this one time, my girlfriend left her room, and these two friends started getting sexy all over the floor. Now I'm not the type to talk about perverted stuff like that, but if two people want to have a good time in private, who am I to stop 'em?  Well anyway, Old Alissa walks in and has a big laugh about it, she treats the two lovebirds like they were old pals! That kinda stuff really kills me.

The funny thing is, Alissa comes in about an hour later, which was about the time I got to the room, and starts yelling in a drunken rage! She starts throwing things around like a madman, screaming like some kind of bastard about ruining her life or  failing her tests or something. She practically almost socked my girlfriend right in the face! So what I did, I tried to be suave and all and prevent any more commotion. I talked to her real smoothly and calmly, I really did. Me and my girlfriend ended up calming the sonuvabitch down and went to sleep, you'd think I was doing her a big favor by talking to her by the way she acted.

The next day I find out that old Alissa ratted her on her roommate, (my girlfriend) out to one of the RA's or something. The goddamn phony went back on her word, and straight behind our backs to a "higher power." Well you could tell after all my suaveness of the night before I was pretty sore about this. I don't like to see my girl getting in trouble, especially for something she didn't do! She wasn't even in the goddamn room.

The next day this RA sonuvabitch came banging at my girlfriend's door. I mean he was really going at the thing, I thought for a second the bastard was gonna break it! He comes barging in, screaming and everything, telling me I need to leave the hotel immediately! "Get your things and get the fuck outta here," he says. At this point I'm pretty shocked. " For Chrissake, Why?" I asked him. This Phony didn't even have the dignity to give me a response.

This was one of those guys you could tell thinks he's a real hot shot. One of those real bastards who gets in a small position of power and goes on this huge ego-filled power trip, a real dirty moron. He was a peculiar guy in some ways. I could tell I hated his guts already.  He's kind of a big guy and definitely pretty fat. Not like husky fat, but disgustingly, slobbery fat. You could tell he doesn't shower much from the smell of onions and cheap tequila emanating from his pores.  "If you ever step foot in here again, I'll throw you out myself or call the cops to arrest you on the spot." He said to me. I was damn near afraid he was gonna hit me. At this point I was practically shaking, I really wanted to sock him, but I didn't on the account of me being a pacifist and all.

He ended up escorting me out of the place, continuing to tell me all the consequences of me coming back. I swear if that bastard said practically one more thing to me I was gonna punch him in his fat, dirty belly, I swear to god I would've.

*To this day, I still have no idea why I am banned from the hotel.

**I'd like to thank J.D. Salinger and his timeless novel The Catcher in the Rye, for giving me a lot of my inspiration for this post. I'd also like to thank The EHS Resident Director for being such a cum guzzler . Many thanks must go to Alissa Cooney for her white trash-hill-billiness that has entertained me all semester.

***Despite the style of writing, everything that happened in this story is true.

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