JUSTIN'S OLD HOUSE
Review by: Tony Shitbag

My friend Justin used to live in the shittiest pile of shit this side of the toilet. It was right across from the McDonald’s in downtown San Mateo, CA. I never knew a place like this existed outside of hell; spit on the walls, cum on the couch, broken glass on the floor. It would have been a perfect place to throw Satan’s birthday party. It looked, felt and smelled like a crack house; a crack house that was run by a bunch of homeless immigrants with hygiene problems.

Looking for a great place to toss a big ass orange through a living room window? Look no further than Justin’s old house! And guess what? The orange was thrown by someone living in the house! Instead of actually replacing the window though, this loser taped a piece of cardboard over the humongous hole in the glass and just hoped for the best. Why don’t you just send an invitation to every bug and rodent alive asking them to crawl inside your house? Better yet, why not just fill the hole in the window with your underwear or a piece of moldy cheese?

While it’s always comforting to know there is a big fuckin' hole the size of Roseanne’s pussy in your window, it’s not nearly as comforting to know that anywhere you sit in the house is moist and damp from someone’s bodily fluids. Being a guest in this house was about as comfortable as finding out your dad is gay. Here’s an idea; when everyone in the house is bored at night, why not just get blackout drunk and take an entire set of poker chips and throw them full speed at the glass chandelier in the dining room? It makes perfect sense right? And I don’t just mean a softball toss either; I’m talking full windup, Nolan Ryan, glass-shattering fastballs. It was the absolute best when I happened to be standing beneath the chandelier at the time this occurred. I always loved taking showers in glass.

Let’s move on to the kitchen, shall we? I honestly don’t know if there was ever a dish washed in this place. Filthy piles of plates, utensils, and cups were scattered across the countertop and stacked in the sink. Some of the food had been stuck to the plates so long that it actually looked like it was glued there. Every dish had mold on it. Rotten meat was a permanent fixture on the George Foreman grill. As if this weren’t bad enough, there was also a pile of trash in the corner of the kitchen the size of a small pyramid. It looked like a garbage woman had her first period there. There was literally a fuckin' labyrinth of trash in the kitchen, stacked all the way to the ceiling; more than enough to build a garbage maze with. It was as if Justin owned the county dump and decided to store the entire city’s garbage in his kitchen.

Other highlights within this house included a guaranteed fist fight at least once a week, a puddle of piss on each sofa and bed, and Justin’s roommate, who literally did nothing but masturbate, drink, and cry. He also kept a large pile of dirty clothes in the hallway, which Justin pissed on several times in an attempt to get his roommate to actually do his fuckin laundry! Instead of actually washing his clothes, Justin’s roommate would individually pick one dirty shirt out of the pile each morning, put it in the dryer for ten minutes, and spray some cologne on it. Nice work Mr. Clean! Way to keep yourself fresh! Why don’t you just use shit for soap or wash your hair with spit?

At least this story has a happy ending; the house was condemned and bulldozed to pieces, Justin got a new house, and his roommate moved back home with his parents. Let’s all kill ourselves to celebrate! Yay!

Posted: 01/01/08