This is where the magic happens

Finally got myself a big boy bed. This is a significant move because when I first moved into the city I lived off of an air mattress for about eight months straight. The story everyone wants to hear is that this was some sadomasochistic science experiment gone awry, that it was all a bad excuse to take weekly trips to the massage therapist, but in reality I have no idea why I put myself through that.

When my back could take the punishment no longer, I upgraded to sleeping on two mattresses stacked on top of each other. This was perfectly acceptable for me until the day my parents came up to visit and my mom bitched me out for living like a college boy. I mean, she wouldn't shut up about it. Her face had the same look of shame as the time she found out I altered my elementary school report card by mutating the C's into lowercase A's. Trembling with deep disappointment, sighing, she said, "Aiyya. That's whys you singles. Girls sees this, and they don'ts respects you."

And then my amused dad was all, They can't disrespect him if he's not even bringing them home in the first place, and that's when I made a mental note never to invite my parents into my home ever again.

So now I have this new fancy schmancy leather platform bed, which is great and all because I can finally have a good night's sleep for the first time in two years, but the thing is I'm not the kind of guy who particularly enjoys spending his entire evening tightening bolts to slats with an obnoxious L screwdriver, so I kind of did a sloppy job and now whenever I move a muscle while laying in bed, everything squeaks. Earlier tonight I showed my roommate a demo by rocking my bed with exaggerated hip thrusts, and even he couldn't resist a friendly jab. He was like, "Ah, well at least you can give your neighbors the illusion that you are getting laid."