Half-Assed Homemaker

I was speaking with a friend last night, someone I see once in a while when I'm out and about. We were swapping stories and discovered that we both did time at 411 Park. Now 411 Park, or Parkside as it is also known, is not a penitentiary... It's much worse. Disguised as a reasonably nice condo building, it is where renters go to die. You see, I found out that, like me old Joe Miller took up residence in that building after having to leave an apartment he was happily renting. Also like me, the wake up call at how a shitty this turned out to be was sufficient to turn him into a homeowner. He did six months there, I did five.

Oddly enough, his experience occurred there before a bunch of lawsuits and subsequent renovation to fix code violations had occurred and to me they didn't make a damn bit of difference. A building with narrow hallways, paper thin walls, cardboard-esque doors nestled quaintly between a highway and train tracks and under a flight path is no place to call home.