OMG OMG OMG!!!! Some idiot mofo Someone threw toilet paper from the roof onto our terrace!!!! Grooosssssssssss! Wait. No. It’s paper. Cut exactly in the shape and width of toilet paper. WTF. Who on earth wipes their ass with xerox paper?
Oh look! Another object thrown off the roof of our building, and which landed on our terrace. What have we here? A tiny teeny weeny “ziplock bag” the size of my thumb? Oh, what could possibly have been contained in such a teeny weeny ziplock bag? (*cough dime bag!*)
And yes, I need a manicure. I am shameless. And so are the people who “party” up on the roof.
(It was empty when I found it. Really. The least they could have done was left me a little something in there).
This is kind of a matching set. A straw and a water bottle top. The narrative unfolds before you. Some OCD, prissy mofo who doesn’t drink water from the bottle, but has to use a straw because omg what if there are germs up on the rim of that bottle, threw his sh*t off the roof of the building and then it landed on our terrace. Now I have to deal with YOUR germs, mofo.
I don’t know what the f*ck this was, but it was thrown off the roof of our bldg. And now it’s on our damn terrace. I think I’ve seen these things at the Container Store—they’re used for party favors? They’re useless. Some pissed off person flung it. Hey butthead, this isn’t a white elephant party! I don’t want your useless nameless objects!
Sometimes, in the nighttime, the lit cigarette butts float down like glowing fireflies. In the daytime, they look like this. They all come from inconsiderate buttheads-who-throw-stuff-off-the-roof-onto-our-terrace.
Also, lit cigarettes hurt when they hit you in the face as they fall. And they leave scorch marks on patio furniture. And yes, Virginia, they once landed on, and lit our patio cushion on fire. Again, my middle finger salutes you.
I once proposed to building management that they raise the glass wall up on the roof to six feet (from the measly 6 inches—a 6 inch wall is decorative, folks, a mere suggestion). The then-building-manager started chuckling. He said he was imagining drunk smokers flicking cigarettes and then having said cigarette rebound into their face.
That’s the plan, Smithers. That’s the plan!
I also told the former building manager that the wall was so low, anyone could throw themselves off the roof, and that I did not want to find a dead body on our terrace. He started laughing. “Ohyah, that body is going to totally land on your terrace. It won’t even clear the building and make it to the street. Totally on your terrace.”
My former building manager used to be a cop.
People on the roof like colorful condoms—tri-color, to be exact. I found these on my terrace the other day, along with some used ones (no picture of those, because when you find a used condom, the normal reaction is NOT “I would like to take a picture of this!”). And I am sadly, kind of normal, even if weird enough to have a blog about the stuff that lands on our terrace when people throw stuff off the roof.
I mailed our building management, who said they caught a couple “having sexual intercourse” on the roof last week. Who says “sexual intercourse” anymore?
Oh, and bonus: you get a shot of a cigarette butt. We get a lot of those. Sometimes 40 cigarette butts in a weekend.
Let’s start with the boring stuff that people throw off the roof of my apartment building and which land on our terrace. Bottle caps. Gum. *yawn*
