The Word On The Streets By The Streets: Off-Campus Personals
Published April 10, 2007
By Mike Polanski
Isham Street
Hi, so you want to live on me? Fucking wonderful. I know that the endless charms of my numerous potholes, malodorous gutters, and old gel Asics hanging from telephone wires just screams the words “prime real estate” to you and 11 of your friends.
Plus, kids seem to love the fact that most of my houses are available until roughly a week before the actual lease starts!
In the old days, I had soul: young people milled around my lovely block, blasting Joan Baez and exploring the possibilities of group love and the liberations of poor hygiene.
Now it’s Leppard tracks and Crystal Meth, and all this new emphasis on “safe sex” just seemed to make things dirtier and less interesting.
Seriously, how many condoms are you kids going to flush down the toilet before you realize they aren’t exactly biodegradable? And you call yourselves environmentalists, sweet Jesus.
Oh but anyway, come live with me, I am a bitter and dirty street, but I will treat you right, unlike that bitch Buell Street. I hope to see you next year! I guess.
Christ, I am lonely.
Upper College Street
I have never felt the need to sell myself, and I certainly will not start now. My aesthetics and practical offerings speak for themselves. My lofty vantage point witnesses the glorious sunset as it slowly performs oral sex on Lake Champlain and the mountains beyond.
Each morning the sun rises on me and me alone. I am its muse. It lights up all of Burlington and offers hope to so very, very many (but really only my residents).
The lavish Waterman is nothing more than a mistress to me, and I know for a fact that I have more replicas of Greek columns running down the sides of my sexy street-body than anywhere else in town, probably the entire world.
Hill Garden Apartments
WORDDD!!! Come get fucking blitzkrieged in the most righteous A – P – T’s on campus.
Straight up this is party motherfucking central….wait, hold on I want to tell you more but I have to rest my liver for a moment, it has the crazy ill cirrhosis……………..Ahhhhh.
No worries though cirrhosis is mad fun to say when you’re SHMASTED and anyway big words can get you LAID ***69*** wit da hunneees. Word. We haven’t had a garden since 1973 so I can’t explain the name, but I can tell you the herbage is TIGHT and heads get higher than the hills!!!
So, um, I’m not sure if that was much of a sales pitch, but hook it up for next year and I promise you’ll leave with some wild memories, a few group sex opportunities that you were too scared to capitalize on, and a very, very bad liver.
The North End
Ah yes, I suppose it is appropriate that I should follow those vile apartments, it is only areas like this that have been utterly nauseating my end of Burlington for decades. So perverse, so relentlessly sexed out and drugged up, so…college…
You see keg stands where I see reflective and soothing yoga positions. I trade the revolting and forgettable “hook-ups” that occur so frequently in those ghettos with meaningful, soul-searching love making sessions.
Forego the dirty bong rips and cheap beer buzz for the eternal high opened up by Monet and Manet, or a lovely e.e. cummings poem written entirely with question marks. And perhaps a little bit of excellent acid.
Surely, not all of you are ready for what lies on this side. I will hold up a mirror to your soul, force you to rise above the vulgar conventions of University, and expose you to beauty unfathomable to all but Karl Jung and his penis. For one easy monthly payment of 750 dollars a person.
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