Creep of the Day: Stories from the Stoop-Part 3 (Shorty McShortShort)

Shorty McShortShort

Shorty McShortShort (SMSS) lived in Apt. 12 and as you might have guessed from the name he was…well…short. In fact, he was as short as I am – and because of this fact I think when we met he thought “JACKPOT! A SHORTIE JUST LIKE ME!” He was actually a pretty cool guy-he definitely tried to put the moves on me a few times but nonetheless was a super friendly, chill, and fun person. Albeit he did have a couple awkward moments-which naturally I feel the need to share with you.

Awkward Moment 1:

One night soon after we had just met he decided to march across the lawn as I was coming home to tell me “Du bist sehr heiss,” which he intended to mean as “You’re really hot,” but in German that just means you’re hot…as in I’m fuckin’ burning alive it’s so hot in this mofo. This, however, made me laugh so +12 points to SMSS.

Awkward Moment 2:

Another night I was sitting on the stoop alone, I think my roommate or friend had gone up to the bathroom, when he came by and sat beside me. We started talking and then it got kind of weird:

SMSS: “Your feet are really small.”
Me: “Uhm ok, yes?”
SMSS: “So are mine!”
Me: “I see.”
*Taking a moment to stare at SMSS’s shrek feet*
SMSS: “I wonder who’s feet are bigger.”
Me: “Uhhhh…”
SMSS: “Do you mind if we compare them?”
Me: “Huh? What? Uhm… Okay”
*Slides foot over next to his*
SMSS: “I can’t tell – we need to put them sole to sole.”

There and then sitting on the stoop of my shithole apartment I placed my foot on SMSS’s hairy shrek foot and a comparison was made. I can only imagine what the nursing home neighbors across the street were thinking if they happened to peak out their window at 1am, let alone the drunken dude-bros walking by. If I remember correctly I won for having bigger feet. I also decided that was kinda sorta super fucking awkward and creepy and deducted approximately 50 points from SMSS’s decent person scale.

Awkward Moment 3:
Okay, so technically this isn’t my story-it’s Monica DingleDangles (yes, the pseudonym for my awesome roommate that year), but it’s just so fabulous it needs to be included. In order to include the story I must preface this by saying that Monica is 5 feet 9 inches of awesomeness, or, in fewer words, she’s tall.

One night Monica DingleDangle was sitting out on the stoop – who knows – smoking a cigarette, yakking on the phone, or doing an interpretative dance – fuck if I know. Anyways she’s sitting out there and SMSS comes up, takes a seat, and they start having a really good heart-to-heart (no joke, I believe this is true—probably about Tricks’ mad telephone pole acrobatics). At the end of the heart-to-heart, SMSS was so taken with the conversation that he stood up and asked DingleDangle for a hug. Not wanting to scream “due to our 10 inch height difference and semi-acquaintance status relationship I’m going to have to say fuck no” she stood up and awkwardly reached down to SMSS and gave him what was described and impersonated to me as the most vertically-awkward-quasi-hug-bullshit one could possibly give a quasi-stranger. As you might have guessed this awkward moment speaks largely to why we are such good friends.

Awkward Moment 4: Portraits of Awkwardness
The fourth and final awkward moment related to SMSS probably reflects more of our awkwardness than his. Yes by “our” I mean myself, Monica DingleDangle, and DingleDangle’s BFF JingleJangle. One night, after having too much to drink, we thought it would be a fucking fantastic idea to draw pictures of the creepy shit we had around our apartment. JingleJangle actually had some mad artistic skillz and whipped up some creepy ass portraits of the random shit we had collected over the past couple of months. Naturally we decided keeping these drawings to ourselves was total selfish, bologna-hogwash and thus we felt the need to distribute them…to all the apartments in our building. Did I mention we were really drunk? Did I also mention that we think we are tremendously funny when we are drunk? Well we were and we do. We ran around giggling like drunken ninjas taping these fucking things to people’s doors at 3am and imagined what their faces would look like when they found it the next day. We ended up putting one on SMSS’s door and I believe it was a portrait of this dead bamboo plant we had and this creepy figurine belonging to DingleDangle.

Tiny Sasquatch (One of the many pictures drawn & distributed that fateful night.)

DingleDangle & I had completely forgotten about these shenanigans until the next weekend when SMSS had a huge party and invited us over. We moseyed our way on over there later on and as we walked in…there in the center of the fucking living room was our drawing – taped up like some proud mother who’s child just drew her a Van Gogh. We almost died laughing. It was amazing. Later we asked SMSS if he had drawn it – he said no, but it was one of the coolest fucking things he’d ever found. I then added 29 points to SMSS’s overall person score for good taste and good humor.


FBD of the Day: Stories from the Stoop – Part 2 (Tricks)


Tricks was the only relatively normal guy from Apt. 7 He was surprisingly nice and respectful, and we rarely saw him–go figure. One night we were out on our stoop smoking hookah when Tricks came home. He thought we were smoking weed and really wanted a riff (?). Despite the fact that we weren’t smoking pot, instead opting for yummy flavored tobacco deliciousness, we told him he was more than welcome if he could do a trick for us.

Sidenote: We loved to ask people to do tricks, rarely were we totally serious-but if they did, said person pretty much won the gold medal of awesomeness for the night.

As you might be able to tell from the nickname, Tricks was a fucking master of tricks. You know, generally when you make this request you expect something like the “quarter behind your ear” gag or a handstand if someone’s feeling particularly adventurous. Not tricks. Tricks fucking marched up to the light post and as I anticipated him to begin climbing it BOOM this 6ft tall Nordic giant swings his legs around the pole and turns upside down.

As I type this, I realize it sounds quite a bit like a stripper move, except with a big ass telephone pole. At the time I didn’t make that connection and my roommate and I were simply speechless or in her own words “our eyes completely glazed over in awe.”

It is hands-down one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen a grown man do who wasn’t A) an Olympian B) Creepy Criss Angel or C) Harry Potter. (Ok so Harry Potter wasn’t grown, but he was a wizard-so it still counts).


My Love of Tricks (pie-charted for your enjoyment)


Tricks didn’t stop there though – he then proceeded to do other crazy tricks, which in retrospect have paled next to the telephone one. All in all though it was pretty terrific. We sat bamboozled and slightly humbled as we handed him the hookah.

*Special thanks to Monica DingleDangle for her enlightening portrayal of Tricks*

Creep of the Day: Stories from the Stoop-Part 1 (Chaz)

My junior year of college my lovely roommates and I found ourselves in the most random, amazing, and quirky apartment complex possible. A typical collegiate hole-in-the-wall + an assortment of friendly, yet fucked-up neighbors kept us more than entertained, and as you can imagine, it suited our crazy asses a little too well. Our apartment building, which mind you was across the street from a nursing home, had three entrances each with a step (or stoop) leading into the building. You could often find us sitting out on that stoop smoking hookah, drinking, making failed attempts at grilling, or just being creepy in general. As we dominated the shit out of the stoop, we had the joy of meeting our enchanting neighbors and the creepy gems who would pop out of the hordes walking by. This post is the first in a series of recollections to some of the biggest creepers to cross our stoop.


Chaz was the resident creeper of the apartment complex. Dumber than a box of rocks, he often made inane comments and/or jokes that made you wonder if indeed he had anything in that big head of his. He thought he was suave and shit, and one night we were sitting out on the stoop “reflecting” (aka eating pizza and talking about the nights events) after an evening out when Chaz stumbles across the lawn. He started talking jibberjabber and I noticed he had a small pocket the size of a silver dollar on his hat.

Me: “Chaz, what the fuck is that on your hat? A pocket?”

Chaz: “Fuck yeah that’s a pocket.”

*Chaz then proceeds to proudly open up the small pocket on the hat while wearing it–demonstrating its pockety-ness*

Me: “Why in God’s name do you have a fucking pocket on your hat?”

Chaz: “For condoms, duh.”

Me: “So, let me get this straight. You really keep condoms in a small pocket on your hat. Wtf.”

Chaz: “Damn straight.”

*If my memory serves me correctly, Chaz continued to stumble around in the front lawn murmuring sweet nothings to the grass fairies about the marvels of his pocketed-condom hat. I believe he told us that it was a very useful/practical hat – but I want to see the girl, who in the heat-of-the-moment watches a man unbutton a small fucking pocket on a beanie hat he is wearing to pull out a condom and still want to go the next step. Maybe that’s just me.*

*Special thanks to Monica DingleDangle for her help refreshing my memory and Monica & Nastastic for contributing immensely to an epic semester of nonsense*