219 is ruining my life.

I don’t think I’ve told you the story of 219. And if I have, you’ll enjoy it again, because it’s that kinda ridiculous.

It had to be almost a month ago, I had just parked my car and was walking to the elevator heading to my apartment. There was already a guy waiting there, which I was dreading. Unless it’s the hot guy down the hall, which it never is.

This guy has to be at least 37 and is a stunning replica of Emelio Estevez.

And by stunning I don’t mean hot, or sexually attractive in any way. I actually mean, “Ducks…Ducks…Ducks!”

So anyway, Emelio is standing there and he’s all, “WHOA looks like you got your workout on.”

I was wearing gym clothes, and yes, I had just gotten back from the gym. But it wasn’t up for discussion. I just said, “I try,” and looked the other way.

We get in the elevator and he says, “man I’m so sick of these elevators!” I don’t know why anyone could be mad at such a lazy device, especially when he had a huge dolly of camera equipment.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just let out a weak, “yeah…”

We get to our floor, yes apparently I’m lucky enough to share a floor with Emelio, and he says, “I’m Eric,” and I’m thinking, wow this is awkward, and just say, “I’m Lucky” and bolt toward my apartment. I get about 10 feet away from him when he yells, “YEAH I LIVE IN 219…”

UMMM…WHAT? Why would a perfect stranger (hehe remember that TV show?) just shout out their room number? Like do I look like the kind of person that is just going to show up at someone’s door ready to A. make an amateur porno, or B. get skinned?

Fuck off, dude! So I just turn and go to my apartment, and when I turn my key…he was standing there looking to see what apartment I went in. FREAK.

I immediately prayed to God and told him to stop fucking around. Like there’s 2 people that live on my floor: Emelio (known to the masses now as 219) and John the hot guy. AND really, 219 is the one you stick me in the elevator with? NOT FUNNY, GOD.

Fast forward to Wednesday night, I pull into the parking garage to get to my apartment so I can meet some girls from the gym. When I pull into my assigned spot, I look at the car next to me, a Pathfinder, which I see often, but never have I seen the driver.

But that day, there he was, sitting in his car on the phone, John the Hottie. We have parking spots right next to each other! I hop out of my car and so does he, he ends his phone call and his like, “Hey how are you!?”

I’m all, “Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen you without your comfy clothes on.”

John the Hottie laughs and is all, “Yeah, I’m actually wearing not-staying-at-home-clothes.”

He then says something about how his job is pretty much work whenever he wants type of thing, and he mostly works from home. I’m just then trying to stop from drooling when, who jumps out from NOWHERE?!?!

219.

“HEY ME TOO, I WORK FROM HOME TOO.”

Seriously, stfu Emelio. Mind your own beeswax.

And so, John the Hottie falls for the cock block and takes the challenge. It continues into the elevator, with JTH saying he claims his home office for taxes and then 219 says OH ME TOO BUT IM OFFICIAL WITH AN LLC.

Sigh.

The conversation continues into the hall, blocking me from inviting JTH out for drinks.

Dear 219, go kill yourself with a hockey skate.

 

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One thought on “219 is ruining my life.

  1. I hope you run into JTH again soon! Without any 219 interference.

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