Cribs minus MTV

Showing your abode when it is not a mansion, and the people viewing it are not holding video cameras, is considerably less glamorous.  It isn't quite the same when your "Crib" has 1.5 bathrooms.  How can you have one and a half bathrooms?  We have two toilets, in my mind that means we have two bathrooms.  I digress, the true mistique of our apt lies not in the bathroom(s) but in the clothes strewn hap hazardly around the floor.  Or how about the kitchen?  I am pretty sure, when Snoop Dogg give a tour of his crib he doesn't have to say, "The spagetti sauce on the ceiling has an explanation."  Alas, the bedroom is probably the one area that might save me.  When I give a tour, I always give the cliche line: "This is where all the action goes down."  Its true you see, though no woman (or man for that matter) has set foot in my bedroom excepting my roomate and a few close friends, there has been plenty of action in my room.  I freestyle soccer here, kicking a soccer ball repeatedly through the air mere feet from my desk where I continue the "action" everyday, with countless english papers and other burdensome bits of boring prose.  This apartment--with its marinara ceiling and messy unkempt atmosphere--will always hold a special place in my heart.  It will because it was my first apartment, and good, bad, or ugly, this was where I traversed the tricky incline that is true adulthood.  Here in this apartment, I paid my first rent, electric bill and cable and somehow managed to smile as I watched my bank account stagger.  The Bat Cave will go down in my history book as the place where Jesse Madera went from slacker to macker.

Oh, and here is what I am currently listening to.  

100 Yard Dash - Raphael Saadiq