My name is Ears, my real name is Nick but around here, Ypsilanti, I am almost exclusively called Ears on account of the 3/4 diameter gauges that reside in my ear lobes. They're not even that large in comparison to some of the other ones I've seen. Anyways, I live in Ypsilanti Michigan at a place referred to as 501 or the "Trash Track House" depending on who you talk to. I attend Eastern Michigan University along with my 4 other roommates. I'm currently working on my Bachelor in Fine Arts but a lot of my time is consumed by running seeing as in how I'm on the EMU Cross Country/Track and Field Team with two of the four other roommates that I have. I wont get into much of my accolades or lack their of because that only constitutes a fraction of what I find humorous or worthy writing about. The real gem of my life is my house or at least it's essence. I use the term house loosely because most of you would associate home as being a place where one can lay their head and escape the turmoil of their everyday life, 501 is anything but this.
To give one a mere glimpse into 501 I will present a question: At what time does the amount of urine in a trash can exceed basic human acceptable limits. I say this because this is just one of the problems that plagues 501 on a weekly basis. Don't get me wrong, I loved 501 when I first moved in aside from the fact that I had not an inkling of what I was getting myself into. i feel that whomever is reading this should know that this is the third year that 501 is being occupied by the EMU Cross Country and and Track team. You should also know it will be the last on account of an enraged landlord who just so happens to be the Antichrist. We'll get into the infernal spawn of evil later, for now I feel it is of dire importance to convey just how outrageous this dwelling can be.
Think of the drunkest you have ever been, now try and superimpose that drunkenness on to 50 people. That is barely breaking the surface of 501's debauchery. Though 501 is predominately secular some of the events that have taken place here have even us worried about our salvation. From drunken threesomes and basement tattoo parlors to severed arteries with high speed hospital runs 501 has seen everything just short of the rapture. All of these events have culminated in the unconditional love/passionate indignation that I now have for what they call 501. Keep following to hear to more about my hell on earth, next post will be about the only women I've ever loved also known as the Graybush.