Your landlord is not going to like this. Another late payment is definitely not a boss move, especially after the last warning. Remember that warning? It went like this: "If you're late one more time with rent, I'm not going to like it and then you aren't going to like it. This is a warning." That's what he said, but in a Russian accent. He's probably going to break your legs.
You call your mom and ask if it's okay if you move back for a bit. Nothing permanent, you say unsure if you're trying to convince her or yourself.
"Of course you can," she says. She loves you very much and she doesn't care a bit about what your life has become. "Did I tell you that Tony and I got a dog. It's a pugaloo."
"Well, we did. Maybe if you called more often, you'd know about these things."
"Okay, mom." But it's not okay. Not okay one bit. She lectures you for twenty minutes about family. It's a sign of things to come.
"Do you want me and Tony to stop over and help you move?"
You look around your studio apartment, at the empty walls, the empty shelves, the empty fridge. You look at your lack of furniture, lack of anything, at your lack of existence.
"No," you say. "I'll be over soon."
The treacherous New England Patriots are guilty of deflating their footballs. We must punish them severely in the name of holy retribution. This transgression has been the biggest headline in the United States for an entire week, and it should be the primary concern of all nations.
We have used extensive market research to determine the average consumers of America's favorite rolls of caramel-oozing choco cysts.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.