Ghetto and Ghet-This

Sitting on the top bunk in my new apartment with absolutely NOTHING to do (refer to Nonsensical Nugget number 3), I feel as though letting my fingers fly may relieve the altitude sickness. It must be time for Ghetto and Ghet-This Monday! Never heard of it? Remove that rock from above your cabeza.

Ghetto: The shredded couch on the third floor that is foaming at the cracks and positively buzzing with diseases. I'm sure this could make for some great cuddling if given the chance, but mostly I'm just pleased that I know where to come when I'm in a Bigger or Better battle of massive magnitude.

Ghet-This: Matching roommate dresses as a joke on the first day of church will collect you a reputation, paparazzi problems, and a plethora of nerdy engineers who will not let you leave ward gatherings.
Note to Self: Exchange guitar class with jujitsu class.

Ghetto: Wood paneling straight from the 70s all around the living room. Lest you fear, the brown is broken up by a wall of whitewashed cinder blocks. The Brady Bunch meets Prison Break. This is great.

Ghet-This: "You are really long," is the most sincere compliment I have received all day or ever, closely followed by a continual 3-hour-long bout of, "I like your Did you buy them together?" Why no, engineer, we all happened to buy the same hideous polyester box gown from D.I. independently and then miraculously wound up being bound together in the coincidental bonds of roommatedom. P.S. I like the outfit coordination between you and every other gent in the ward! Did you all go shopping together?

Ghetto: Plaids upon plaids. Is a matching set of plaid couches really not enough? Must we choose pillows in plaid of a different variety to adorn them? I suppose this isn't entirely ghetto, just headache-inducing.

Ghet-This: After becoming nauseated by the effort it took to respond to the dress question every minute on the minute, we started by responding with, "Oh hey, we're triplets!" I don't know how old we are. I also don't know how anybody bought that. But then again, don't we look so alike?

Ghetto: My shot-glass collection. I luh it.

Ghet-This: It's a mile walk to and from work; I definitely deserve all-you-can-eat Kneaders french toast in the morning with  the million or 6 lovely ladies who live with me. You're all invited to this 8-month-long Estrogen partaaaaay.

1 comment

  1. diggin' the matching going on over there. I may or may not have creepily stalked you the other day as you were walking into the Wilk with your work apron on. I was on the phone, otherwise I would have made my creeping known. that's all. oh, and I wanna see you and dottie! (I already saw Sarah at NSO. I didn't forget her.)



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