Heather
LAMPE
Home on derange
Ne’er a beautiful day livin’ the apartment way
Pardon the bags under my eyes. I
was kept awake again last night by
the amorous clamoring of my next
door neighbors. Apparently 2 a.m. is
the optimum time for them to
practice their nude trapeze act.
Unbeknownst to them, I and most of
the third floor can hear their swing
ing.
I don’t know why I even bother
getting upset anymore. Last night’s
lovefest only added to the many
negative aspects of living in an
apartment. Until I can afford a
mortgage, I am stuck with being
subjected to 3B’s audio-porno three
to five times a week.
But I shouldn’t blame my sex
starved neighbors for all of my woes.
They aren’t the only reason I hate
living in a leased cube. Apartment
laundry rooms also add to my grief.
The building I live in has two
washing machines and two dryers for
18 apartments. This may seem like a
decent ratio. But you can be sure that
anytime I need to wash my unmen
tionables, someone will be occupying
the machines.
I can attempt to do laundry at 3
a.m., and someone’s laundry will still
be in the machine. There are several
people in my building who leave
their laundry unattended and forget
about it for hours. If I want to wash
mine, I must be forced to touch
someone’s stained BVD’s. I would
rather wear mine inside out than do
that.
You can always pick out apart
ment-dwellers by their attire. Any
piece of white clothing is always a
nice pale shade of yellow because of
the hard water. You will also recog
nize an apartment-dweller if the
person incessantly asks for change.
You can easily drop $10 washing
three loads of laundry. The dryers are
rigged so you have to dry a load
three times before it gets dry. You are
either forced to spend your life’s
savings, become a beggar or suffer
the consequences of wet jeans.
“Hey, man, can you spare some
change?”
“Get a job, you loser. You smell
like stale laundry. Hey, Heather, is
that you?”
I’ve just never felt at home in an
apartment. There is something eerie
about living in a place where an
average of 30 other people have
lived. I don’t care how many times
they’ve cleahed the carpet.
I once lived in an apartment that
had a bed that came out of the wall. I
wanted to bring my own mattress, but
it wouldn’t fit the circa-1920 frame.
So I had to use their mattress, and let
me say, no amount of mattress
covering could ease my cootie fear.
It’s also impossible to feel at
home in a place where there are strict
guidelines about hanging pictures.
You better hang it right the first time,
because in most apartments you
aren’t allowed to spackle and paint if
you mess up. There was an entire
provision in my current lease that
detailed the type of nails I was
allowed to use. I had to hire an
attorney and the Ace helpful hard
ware man before I could hang my
clock.
There is also a bevy of other rules
that make you realize your home isn’t
really your home. Some apartments
don’t allow pets. Some don’t allow
smokers. Some don’t allow people
under certain ages. So, basically, if
you want to live in some apartments,
you will have to put your children up
for adoption, put your pets to sleep
and kick the habit.
One apartment complex that I
wanted to live in even wanted to
know the make and model of my car.
If my car was a 1985 model or older,
I could kiss my chances goodbye.
Pinto owners beware, you’re being
discriminated against.
Why don’t the apartment manag
ers get real? They can have rules to
make the atmosphere more tolerable,
but let the tenants have some input.
Here are some rules I propose:
■ No parking crooked in the
parking lot. Why do they even bother
painting lines?
■ No cooking with coriander,
cumin, curry or any other nasty spice
that might fumigate the hallways.
You might enjoy Peking duck, but
it’s peeling the varnish off my door.
■ It is mandatory that you clean
out the dryer vent after you’re
finished. I refuse to touch anyone
else’s underwear lint.
■ And last, but not least, no sex
after 11 p.m. You know who you are.
Lampe is a senior news-editorial
and English major and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist.
Matt Haney/DN
Steve
WILLEY
A few good lawsuits
Who needs facts when you’ve got an imagination?
Don’t be surprised if you read the
following story — or at least one
similar to it — in tomorrow’s
newspapers:
FAT COLUMNIST INCRED
IBLY DUMB
LINCOLN — In an unprec
edented and alarmingly stupid effort
to get his newspaper sued, Daily
Nebraskan columnist Steve Willey
cited no sources in his Friday
column, while claiming that many
prominent people, including
President Clinton, have been
involved in strange and ludicrous
events.
The column — though extremely
well-written by an obviously talented
and handsome journalist — used
impropriety and blatant lies to
buttress Willey’s venomous assaults
on national and local figures.
During an emergency press
conference late Friday evening,
Willey told reporters that the sole
objective of the column was to incite
lawsuits against his paper.
“I have no unrealized motive,”
Willey said, “except to witness the
mass suing of the newspaper that
currently employs me and to have it
done by only the nation’s finest
lawyers.”
That’s right folks, the column
you’re reading right now will have
«
Imagine my shock when I learned that the DN’s lawyer is also
the same man who unclogs the commodes in the student
union!”
inspired that story. For you see, I’m
on a quest to get the Daily Nebras
kan sued. Why? Well, the answer is
quite simple.
After researching many of the
nation’s most successful newspapers,
(New York Times, Washington Post
and the Gobberville-Star-Bugle
Gazette-Rutabaga-Monkey-Tribune)
I noticed that they all shared a
common thread: lawsuits — and lots
of them.
I also observed that some of the
newspapers even had million-dollar
law teams devoted to the legal
representation of the publications.
After learning these facts, I con
tacted my editors to see if the Daily
Nebraskan had a lawyer.
Imagine my shock when I learned
that the DN’s lawyer is also the
same man who unclogs the com
modes in the student union! Tliat’s
right, the DN’s lawyer is a janitor
named Zoopy.
But to the Daily Nebraskan’s
credit, there really hasn’t been a
need for legal representation. The
most recent lawsuit filed against the
school newspaper was in 1963 when
the paper published an article
documenting the benefits of drink
ing liquid Drano.
So being the company-minded
individual that I am, I thought it
would be in the DN’s best interest if
»
it could, like all great newspapers,
generate some lawsuits. I plan on
being the catalyst that gets the ball
rolling.
I’ll have no proof, mind you, of
the facts I’m about to divulge. None.
Not the slightest shred of evidence
that might cause me to think this
way. I am simply committing the act
of libel and defamation in an
attempt to provoke the accused into
“suing the pants off of the DN,” and,
thus, making it into a quality
newspaper.
Now, I realize that my reputation
is at stake here. In most papers,
libelous words—especially if they
are intentional — are usually
enough to terminate the writer’s job.
But I’m willing to hold the smoking
gun on this one. The future success
of this paper depends on it.
So please read, and, more
importantly, believe what you read
about these notable people. For
without the reader’s belief that these
reports are indeed truthful, the
lawsuits will, in all likelihood, be
forever doomed.
FACT ONE: Few people know
that in 1970, then-college student
Bill Clinton was referred to as
“Doobie Boy” by his peers in
England. Clinton purchased
marijuana by the bushel and was
said to have gotten so stoned one
evening, he consumed 143 crumpets
and later attempted to eat one of the
boulders at Stonehenge.
Of course he was arrested, but
what even fewer people know is that
while in jail, he was “accosted” 11
times by a police dog wearing a
Woody Allen mask. And though
Clinton made it abundantly clear
that he didn’t “not like it,” he said
the incident has wrought severe
emotional trauma.
Oddly, in the past two years, the
dog has made 14 trips to the White
House where he has slept in the
Lincoln bedroom. On the last trip,
the canine — whom I might remind
can also sue for libel — escaped
with the antique cheese grater
President Lincoln used to “erode”
the bunions on his feet.
This act angered Hillary Clinton
immensely as she often used the
grater to remove her makeup at the
end of the day. I might add that Bill
Clinton noted in an interview last
April that without makeup, his wife
looks “remarkably similar to Alex
Haley, only she’s got smaller
breasts.”
FACT TWO: I also have no proof
whatsoever that pop singer Michael
Jackson is masterminding a plot to
assassinate Joe Camel, the trendy
model for Camel cigarettes. Jackson
is angry because Joe Camel glorifies
smoking, especially to the young
people he “loves” so much.
Jackson plans to have his pet
chimpanzee, Bubbles, drive a dump
truck full of camel dung into the R.J.
Reynolds building in North Caro
lina. According to the plan, before
Bubbles ignites the explosive poo, he
has been instructed by Jackson to
repeat the following phrase : “Live
by the Camel, die by the Camel!
(monkey is to grab crotch and look
skyward) Hee-HEEEE!”
FACT THREE: I also have a true
tidbit to announce about someone
much closer to home. I happen to
know for a fact that Gov. Ben
Nelson has fake ears! It’s true! The
ears you see are really no more than
coffee mugs specially painted to
resemble human ears.
In a photo appearing in the
Lincoln Journal Star, (which, as a
fellow newspaper, is obligated to sue
the DN) you can actually see Gov.
Nelson dipping a doughnut into his
removed ear which, I can only
assume, was filled with moonshine.
The governor lost his ears in the
early ’70s when he tried to squeeze
between two obese woman during a
Bee Gee’s concert.
I could list thousands of other
facts but I think I have enough now
to bring about three good defama
tion of character lawsuits. I hate to
“tattle” on personal issues but I
think it’s the best way to get the DN.
the national attention it deserves.
I’m glad I could help; it sure
wasn’t easy—what with my
opinion editor sexually harassing me
while I typed. Make that FOUR
good lawsuits.
Willey is a senior news-editorial
major and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist.