As a member of the class of ’08, I know that I’m lucky to live in Lo Rise. But you’ve got to admit it—though it’s sweet that we have our very own kitchens and living rooms, the Lo Rise apartments need some serious work.
Aside from the bullets over Broad Street and the bizarre toxic green colored pseudo-grass that we call our backyard, the entire complex is somewhat reminiscent of an outer space prison. Sometimes I feel like I’m living here because I’ve done something wrong. And the power outage in the B apartments a few weeks ago was a nice touch. But if you’ve found yourself in Lo Rise without the help of an interior decorator, don’t worry! You, too, can have an apartment as sweet as a derelict 1972 VW Minibus pimped by Xzibit himself.
Personally, I find living in my very own Mini-Cooper-sized single extremely glamorous, but when I first got here I was less than thrilled. When I lie down on the floor, if I stretch out my arms I can touch both of my walls. I guess you could call it cozy. But everyone knows it’s not the space you have, it’s what you do with it. To officially begin the “blingification” of your apartment, I would recommend you start with some ice. If Jacob the Jeweler isn’t in your speed dial, you can always start small with some stick-on rhinestones, stick-on sparkly earrings, or even better, Halloween-themed “Iced Pumpkin” lollipops from Brooks Pharmacy that come in a row of 15 for only 98 cents. What a bargain!
Next, you need to figure out how to use your all-star pad to boost your on-campus prestige. If you’ve ever seen an episode of MTV’s Cribs, you know how necessary it is to frame your multi-platinum albums right alongside the pictures of you with foreign dignitaries and the members of KISS. What you need to do is print out some 8×10 headshots of celebrities and whip out your Sharpie. “Last night was fabulous, thanks for driving me crazy…xoxo (creepy little butterfly symbol), Britney;” “You are so fabulous you make me want to jump up and down again on that sofa on national television! –Tom;” “That’s hot. I’m hot. Love, Paris.” Frame these photos and proudly display them in your kitchen, preferably on the wall where they can be seen through the window.
Everyone knows that hot tubs are nonnegotiable. Here in Lo Rise we do have bathtubs, but we are lacking bubble jets and scantily clad Cristal-sipping babes sitting poolside and shakin’ it like a Polaroid picture. But part of learning how to bling is learning how to improvise. Why not invest in a bottle of Mr. Bubbles and ask Lo Rise resident Ellen Knuti to sub in? After all, she is in Boogie Club.
As I have not yet exactly “blung” (or is it blinged? I’ll have to call Diddy for a consult) my Lo Rise, I am technically a hypocrite at this point. But it’s not because I don’t have ideas! It’s simply because I have big dreams and a rapidly diminishing bank account. As E.E. Cummings once said, “I’m living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.” But just wait until my next check comes in from working at the language lab. My Lo Rise is going to off the hook! Or at least off the beaten path, since William Street could seriously not be further away from anywhere I need to go. (Though it is remarkably close to Marco’s Deli and that oddly charming Tibetan bookstore. But I really can’t use anymore rose incense or the “singing bowls” that are advertised out front.)
To quote the ever-wise Sheryl Crow “It is not getting what you want; it’s wanting what you’ve got.” Well I have a sink that doesn’t drain properly and an institutionally upholstered itchy red sofa. But I also have a vision! I want unbelievable Saturday morning breakfasts made in the culinary paradise I call my kitchen, complete with scrambled eggs and even toast. I want a firehouse pole so that I can shimmy down it in style from the second floor to the first and make it in time for my 9 a.m. class. I want waterbeds to come in twin XL! The fluorescent lighting, plastic trash bins, and projectile shelving that plummets to the floor whenever I place a few books on it are alright, but honestly I want more. And remember, this advice is coming from a woman with millions of dollars in record sales and a diamond ring from Lance Armstrong. Talk is cheap Sheryl, but a toaster is forever.
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