I live in a house with four men. Let me rephrase that, I live in the sad remainders of a house that might have been nice at one time but probably not, with four burly 6-foot-somethings who haul ice axes and rock climbing ropes through the house hanging over their rippling, exposed shoulders despite the 32 degree announcement on the radio this morning. The gentle one is my boyfriend...my reason for living...but more importantly, my reason for living in Plattsburgh.
Mark, Billy, Judd, and Keith are great roommates...really. They always replace the toilet paper roll by throwing the old one on the floor and they remember to wipe up most of their beard hairs after they're done shaving lightning bolts into it. Our house can be found at any given time strewn with climbing gear, unpaid bills, and fold-out Playboy posters of someone's daughter bent over a pool table, panties down, nipples up. The occasional bong or Zuke's Grinder wrapper lace through the decor like carefully placed lace doilies (a favorite of my mother's.) The bong almost always belongs to Mark, the unlikely stoner who is physically unable to throw up due to a surgery he had as an infant. He counteracts this condition by constantly mock-vomiting at the slightest inclination of something he dislikes. His hobbies include being one of the gnarliest climbers in Plattsburgh, mocking Asian students from his public speaking class, and speaking in random Eastern European accents...oh, and eating.
Judd has been known to make women weak in the knees, which sounds like the most cliche thing you could say but I've physically witnessed my coworker begin speaking gibberish and sweating after he ordered a sandwich from her. On average, he goes on about 4 dates a day and is an huge fan of techno music which he blasts loudly at all hours of the night or day. If one of the fellow bouncers at the bar he works at even considers asking for one of our IDs at the door he won't hesitate to crush some skull...which, for us, is a pretty sweet way to make an entrance.
And then there's Billy. Billy has just recently become a bouncer at the same bar, which is ironic since he couldn't hurt a fly and he just barely turned 20. Billy spent his past summer living in a van in Alaska...which sounds really warm and cozy. He is an avid beer and eggs lover and was recently won over by one of the craziest girls I've ever met and the only other female presence who has become a constant at our house. Donna has the disadvantage of being a really smart girl but vomiting up every dumb thought that passes through her head. When Billy, Keith, Donna and I ventured out of Plattsburgh and over to a brewery in Vermont, she literally asked, "is this the door?" as we approached...you guessed it...a door. Donna and Billy are in the throws of passion...a lover's dream that old timers like Keith and I remember fondly.
Keith, my beloved being of a boyfriend, is quite possibly the sweetest most gentle human being that has ever graced this planet. He is soft spoken and compassionate, kind and understanding, and the polar opposite of myself. Last week, Keith used one of Billy's eggs and left two dollars rolled up inside his egg carton because the guilt would have been too much for his weak heart. Keith and I are the proud parents of a real shit-storm of a dog. Her name is Bucket and her hobbies are being terrified of everyone and everything, peeing on the carpet, and chewing electrical cords. The gang often huddles around someone's laptop in the living room to watch an episode of Law and Order SVU and try to create as much heat in the room using our bodies alone. Bucket can be found licking her crotch while the rest of us passionately sing the Law and Order intro song.
This is my home...we have no television, no heat, and no class, and we live down the street from a hospital that has free-roaming alpacas on the grounds. Apparently alpacas are natural born healers. Welcome to Plattsburgh.
