This morning I was inspired to write a post about my experience living in Bayonne New Jersey after reading Rockdog's Move In Day post.
The second time I moved out of my parent's house I was like 23 or 24. I decided to move in with this kid named Neil and his older brother, Neil's older brother. I met Neil through a mutual friend, The Birdman, at a wellness camp called Tigs. Tigs stands for the Teen institute of the Garden State. A camp that promoted sobriety and healthy living as an alternative to drugs and alcohol. Sex was the only gray area that Tigs never really addressed... The Apologist and I were counselors for this organization for five minuets during a short bout of hysteria I like to call sobriety. The Birdman was a member of this organization for many years after Corky and the Apologist retired from sobriety.
Corky: Sorry dude, I can't make it to camp this year, I'm huffing gasoline out of brown paper bag right now.
Birdman: Your a dick!
Diclaimer: the joke up above was inspired by Kim Jong Ramone
A little about Bayonne the city: Neil and Neil's older brother rented a pretty nice house in Bayonne NJ. Bayonne I think would qualify as a city in New Jersey. According to the facts that I researched this morning for 2 minutes, 60,000 people live there, and 20 percent of them are Italians, 18 percent are Irish, and 17 percent are Polish. There was a really good dinner at the end of Neil's street, but I'm pretty sure that it was owned by a Greek guy. Greeks own all the dinners in New Jersey with the exception of the Ritz, a dinner in Livingston NJ owned by a Jewish woman (I think). If I made a pie chart of all the women I have dated in my life, it would pretty much coincide with the demographics of Bayonne. I dated a lot of Italian broads back in my day.
There were a lot of logistical issues that I didn't factor in at all when I decided to move to Bayonne. Bayonne was no where near where I worked. I had to commute one hour a day to my part time job. Stupid. I worked at night, and when I would finally get home from work there was never anywhere to park because people who live in Bayonne park on the street because there are no driveways. A good majority of Bayonne's citizens also work during the day so It was almost impossible to find a good parking space at 6 o'clock in the morning in Bayonne. So many days I would spend 45 minutes driving around the block looking for a parking space. Idiotic.
Niel and Neil's brother also worked during the day (which was good, because I didn't have to deal with them) but it presented problems with my life style. I couldn't do anything but go to my room when I got home from work because Neil and Neil's brother owned two deaf Dalmatians that weren't trained and spent 80 percent of their lives in cages in the Kitchen. So making something to eat was out of the question. The only time Neil ever spent any time with these dogs was when he was beating the shit out of them for barking. He'd pull them out of the cage, hit them and thrust them back into the cage. What a guy!
On my first day of living there, Neil gave me a key, introduced me to his brother and said welcome. Then he went to his room and shut the door. Neil's brother never came out of his bed room either. Neil spent most of his time at home in AOL chat rooms soliciting women. I don't know what Neils older brother was doing... The only time I saw him was when he was on his way to work in his suit.
One time I bought roses for a girl that I was dating (not Italian, Jewish), and put them in a vase on the dinning room table so that I could surprise her for Valentines Day. When I got back to the house from picking her up, the flowers were all over the living room torn apart by the Dalmatians, so I pulled them out of their cages and beat the shit out of them. Not the Dalmatians, Neil and Neil's older brother. Kidding, but I should have!
Very shortly after living with those two freaks, I was living on the Birdman's bedroom floor, and then finally back in my parents home for one last brief period. The last thing I heard about Neil is that he was engaged and sleeping with prostitutes. What a fucking guy!
The second time I moved out of my parent's house I was like 23 or 24. I decided to move in with this kid named Neil and his older brother, Neil's older brother. I met Neil through a mutual friend, The Birdman, at a wellness camp called Tigs. Tigs stands for the Teen institute of the Garden State. A camp that promoted sobriety and healthy living as an alternative to drugs and alcohol. Sex was the only gray area that Tigs never really addressed... The Apologist and I were counselors for this organization for five minuets during a short bout of hysteria I like to call sobriety. The Birdman was a member of this organization for many years after Corky and the Apologist retired from sobriety.
Corky: Sorry dude, I can't make it to camp this year, I'm huffing gasoline out of brown paper bag right now.
Birdman: Your a dick!
Diclaimer: the joke up above was inspired by Kim Jong Ramone
A little about Bayonne the city: Neil and Neil's older brother rented a pretty nice house in Bayonne NJ. Bayonne I think would qualify as a city in New Jersey. According to the facts that I researched this morning for 2 minutes, 60,000 people live there, and 20 percent of them are Italians, 18 percent are Irish, and 17 percent are Polish. There was a really good dinner at the end of Neil's street, but I'm pretty sure that it was owned by a Greek guy. Greeks own all the dinners in New Jersey with the exception of the Ritz, a dinner in Livingston NJ owned by a Jewish woman (I think). If I made a pie chart of all the women I have dated in my life, it would pretty much coincide with the demographics of Bayonne. I dated a lot of Italian broads back in my day.
There were a lot of logistical issues that I didn't factor in at all when I decided to move to Bayonne. Bayonne was no where near where I worked. I had to commute one hour a day to my part time job. Stupid. I worked at night, and when I would finally get home from work there was never anywhere to park because people who live in Bayonne park on the street because there are no driveways. A good majority of Bayonne's citizens also work during the day so It was almost impossible to find a good parking space at 6 o'clock in the morning in Bayonne. So many days I would spend 45 minutes driving around the block looking for a parking space. Idiotic.
Niel and Neil's brother also worked during the day (which was good, because I didn't have to deal with them) but it presented problems with my life style. I couldn't do anything but go to my room when I got home from work because Neil and Neil's brother owned two deaf Dalmatians that weren't trained and spent 80 percent of their lives in cages in the Kitchen. So making something to eat was out of the question. The only time Neil ever spent any time with these dogs was when he was beating the shit out of them for barking. He'd pull them out of the cage, hit them and thrust them back into the cage. What a guy!
On my first day of living there, Neil gave me a key, introduced me to his brother and said welcome. Then he went to his room and shut the door. Neil's brother never came out of his bed room either. Neil spent most of his time at home in AOL chat rooms soliciting women. I don't know what Neils older brother was doing... The only time I saw him was when he was on his way to work in his suit.
One time I bought roses for a girl that I was dating (not Italian, Jewish), and put them in a vase on the dinning room table so that I could surprise her for Valentines Day. When I got back to the house from picking her up, the flowers were all over the living room torn apart by the Dalmatians, so I pulled them out of their cages and beat the shit out of them. Not the Dalmatians, Neil and Neil's older brother. Kidding, but I should have!
Very shortly after living with those two freaks, I was living on the Birdman's bedroom floor, and then finally back in my parents home for one last brief period. The last thing I heard about Neil is that he was engaged and sleeping with prostitutes. What a fucking guy!
