Cell Block

Mmm.. I never realized it until tonight that I feel like I'm in prison a little bit. This is the bottom of my apartment building. I live in the North Block. Yeah.. like jail. You know the one.
The apartments are sterile. My neighbors are jerks. (No, really. They're jerks.) I've mentioned both before.
As I was making myself a delicious steak diane tonight, I opened my door to discover that someone (i.e. the dude that lives across the hall) had left a post-it note that said, "Stop slamming your door".

Hey, neighbor, it's nice to meet you. Oh, wait, I was home this afternoon. And you just stuck the note on my door and didn't even bother to knock or ask me in person. I only know/think it was a guy because the handwriting is crap.

I wonder if inmates feel unwelcome in their cells. I need to get out of here more. This doesn't feel like home. I miss my friends. Why do all of my friends live not-in-Fort Worth? (Dallas, Argyle, Houston, Austin...) Are there only meatheads that live in these apartments?
I'm friendly. I have a round face (I don't know what that has to do with anything), I smile a lot, I'll hold the door open for you if I see you. Why aren't my neighbors the same?

The thing is.. I don't think it's me that's slamming the doors. My door shakes when other people shut their doors. GET OVER IT. Stop picking on me just because I look like I'm 17. (Yes, I got 17 again this weekend.)

I'm leaving for the entire weekend and I'm not coming back until Tuesday. So there neighbors. You can be stuck up all weekend without me and you can't blame the doors being slammed on me!

(Happy 20th Birthday to my brother Mike!! Love you a ton.)