It went down like this: Tron told me about his boy that has possibly the most filthy pad a mook has ever seen and right away my eyes lit up like a pin-ball machine when you hit the high score. Not only was this apartment like a museum of total disregard towards one’s standard of living, but this friend was also said to have this whole intricate way of cooking sandwiches on a panini press that was  apparently on some next level Mook Life shit. When I heard that his boy was moving by the end of the month, I had to make sure that this was going to get documented and shared with the rest of the world. With the kind permission of the mook in question, I was granted a laissez passer in to his fortress where I was lucky enough to work with such a breathtaking subject. Not only was the guy totally cool about me going around his casa documenting all of what was wrong, he also insisted on participating in the writing of the post which I gladly accepted. So before I say anything else, I must give him props. How many of you would let someone invade your privacy and share the gruesome findings with the world? That’s what I thought. So, for those of you who have wondered what an apartment looks like after four years of complete negligence…well you are about to find out.

As soon as I set foot in his kingdom I knew that I was in for a treat. This is the “living room”. It’s the only area in this 5 1/2 apartment where you can actually sit down. But before we explore any further, I’m gonna let my man Tronzy give you a little more insight in to the whole matter…

Tron: So… I met this kid back in high school and we used to smoke drugs after class. We used to hang back at his dad’s crib, which was without a doubt, the most superior of his dwellings so far. I witnessed his first apartment- a closet sized room in a place with three other broads, can’t complain. That only lasted a couple of months. The place he copped right around the corner from Sub-V over five years ago is when it all started going downhill. Being set into the world without parents or a bunch of girls in your apartment is when most post-teens get to show their true selves. The early predecessors of everything you’ll see throughout this post came out of this apartment. Many were shocked when they first noticed the lifestyle, but honestly, it could have been worse. That eventually caught up though. This one time, we went out to the holy grail, Esposito’s, to cop a bunch of stuff for breakfast after getting really drunk. We ended up getting the cheapest pack of bacon we could get our hands on. Shit was like 97% fat. I ended up throwing a slab out of his window and stuck it to the neighboring brick wall. It stayed there for about 6 months til he moved out. It hadn’t even flinched. 10 bucks says it’s still there right now.

All in all, we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve been good homies for a long time now and I guess his lifestyle is just one of those things where you just respect what it is and keep your mouth shut. Let me tell you, living in a place like you’re about to witness might seem gross and demented at first, but if he puts up with it, that’s his prerogative, not mine. I don’t rest my head there, or bring back girlies or anything, I’m just a chilleur, and the requirements for being one are slim, most of you can back me on that one. You gotta admire what things are some times. Not only was HTO extremely intrigued when I told him about this pad, but when he walked in, he immediately described as a “walk-in piece of art”. That’s the truth, Ruth. You can try put this in a museum all you want, and it would sell no doubt, but you will never be able to reproduce this without being just as mooked out as this fellow. This is a trip many of you should feel privileged to take part on, it will make you admire your mom’s basement slightly more.

This is where he spends most of his free time playing video-games while compulsively burning down spliff after spliff. Many things could be pointed out but I think that President’s Choice should be called Mook’s Choice and the reasons why are more than obvious. Lets move on and look deeper.

How bad can life be? You have a bunch of half smoked cigarettes and splifs, both very expensive habits, just hanging out on the floor by the stems, cat hair and other garbage. Key elements to note when you study the behavior of mooks.

To Beyonce, the living room was not as grimy as I had hoped. After all, there has to be ONE area where some sort of order has to be kept and this is the very fine line between being a mook and a complete bum.  Some human is still in him. Pause.

As soon as I saw this, I had some questions…

Tron: This was a definite landmark and ice breaker for any of the few first time chillerurs at this pad. It’s good at keeping people concentrating on something other than elderly filth.

OK.. But what the fuck is it?

Gomos: This is some kind of nut that grows on a tree in Africa somewhere. No shit… It’s not some freak defect; they all turn out like this. I got this from my Gramps, who was a pilot in the war. He told me he picked it up on tour, and couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

Say word?

Gomos: LOL! This looks like some kind of perspective mindfuck; the mattress cover is actually at a 45deg angle to the floor. Yes, I slept on that, every night. Don’t think it ever really had sheets on it. My clothing storage concept could be called a mix of ‘open concept’ and ‘multi-functional’ – I can store everything easily, see it all when taking inventory, and it’s a carpet, too…

Gomos: I had about 6 cubic feet of closet space in the place. Where the fuck else do you keep snowshoes?

Tron: This table is clearly visible from the hallway. You walk by all the time, knowing that the room is a jungle of it’s own, but getting to see the newcomers on the bed side table from time to time is priceless. This place is almost like a science lab. If you ever wanna know what stuff looks like through weeks, months or years of decomposition, just take a look!

Gomos: Fuck, this makes me laugh and feel sick at the same time. That goes hand in hand with the rice down below. Came home one night loser drunk and had to eat, but my broke ass had no food except rice. I was making batches of sweet rice, but it wasn’t sweet enough for my drunk ass. Enter Table syrup….

Gomos: Don’t know what that yellow shit is…

Tron: I’m thinking it’s probably half Mayo, half mango something. Exotic chicken nuggets in bed?

Fuck the yellow shit, look at that Pyrex. The cure for AIDS may be in there and we just don’t know it.

Gomos: The end result of rice, coconut milk, sugar, and maple syrup. Plus a month or four.

Gomos: One of these things does not belong….

Gomos: I actually ate that big chunk after you left. I had no idea it was down there….and ignore that empty (i think) box of toaster strudels.

Mookness around every corner, behind each table and under every article even on the walls.

Gomos: From my old crib. If you look close you just might see some aliases of some mooks you know….

Tron: Shout outs to Lizzy in the bottom right! You know who you are, and so do many of you.

Oh yes we do! I could have spent ten more hours taking flicks in that room but we had three more exciting chambers to go through and a meal to cook so we had to move on.

Tron: Watch your foot placement when walking around in here… You never know if you’ll step on cat shit or a moldy puddle of milk. PS, the golden rule is to never, never let your shoes get too far away from your feet.

Gomos: My kitchen…where art is made.

Tron: We grilled up some hot dogs on the BBQ, so I asked if I could use the shitty half-stale bread on the counter as a bun replacement. “Sure, go ahead”. So then I asked I if I could use the oven to heat it up a bit (mooked out restaurant trick of the trade) to give it some life. He replied, “Naw man, that’s gonna show up on the hydro bill”, nuff said.

Gomos: Hadn’t used that stove in about 6 or 8 months. Still cooked, just on appliances.

Every mook has a collection of bottles in his crib, even if he doesn’t drink himself.

Gomos: Same deal as the snowshoes; where the fuck do you keep this shit?

Gomos: So I was high as fuck and wanted tea. I put on a pot like that little blue Creuset pot (solid iron), but a bit bigger, with water to boil. Two hours go by and I remember the water and this horrible sinking sensation sets into my stomach as I realize I smell some shit I’ve never smelled before. The lights were off in the kitchen, and all that was coming from it was this demonic red glow. I round the corner to find that pot the color of the cherry on your smoke, but otherwise in perfect shape. I stood there for about five minutes, fucking clueless. I just turned off the stove and went to bed, and the next morning it was fine. Still have it. Also, note the char marks on this one’s handle? I may or may not have done the same thing a week later.

What happend to “don’t shit where you eat”?

Gomos: The Operating Table.

Chilling in the kitchen got me hungry but we had a few more rooms to do before we could get down with the cooking business. So we proceeded.

The cats’ room. Living is good when you have a spare room for your two greasy homosexual cats. They even had a whole jungle gym. I know families in some buildings on Mountain Sights that would hate this man if they seen this.

Sick couch bro.

Gomos: So, I have two gay cats. They’re in love with each other. People try and say it’s just a hormone thing (they’re not fixed), but once they see the foreplay, there’s no denying it. The one on top, Mao, is the pants. Louis, the fat ass, just takes it like it’s not even happening.

I don’t know if you motherfuckers ever noticed but, collecting masks seems to be very popular among mooks. I don’t know why.

Gomos: So, that’s the built up crap from my hands opening/closing the bathroom door….

…and this is the smudge from my cats on the same door.

The bathroom. Yes we took it there and it had everything you would expect.

Oh, cool! A random bowl full of hair. Nice. Some might wonder but I’d rather not even ask.

Tron: You really gotta watch out if you’re smoking while taking a shit… I got a bit of ash in the bowl one time, the hair started burning, so i put some water in my hand and tossed it in that bowl.

All of this was making me really hungry so as soon as we were done with the tour of the mook mansion, we took it to the mook market; Esposito’s.

Esposito’s is heaven for anyone on a budget. This is why so many mooks go there.

Many things could be said about Esposito’s but the reality is, it’s just super hood. From the staff to the customers this place is crying to be destroyed and replaced with trendy condos for yuppies.

Tron: Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better… Many satisfied customers rolled out that day.

Back at the lab, it was time for Gomos to perform his infamous sandwich routine. This is what I had come there for but before we could get into it, there were just a couple of things that I could not help but notice.

Gomos: I was wondering where that went. No joke.

Gomos: Saw that fall out the bottom of the fridge. Watched it grow vigorously in the exact same spot for about two months.

Tron: That ain’t shit… Remember when you had the 2 beer bottles on the shelf for about a year and a half? The models for the new Alien vs. Predator were based on that.

Gomos: I should have applied for a federal bio-research grant…

Gomos: Why close shit when you’re just gonna open it again later?

It’s just a mook way of thinking. Light up the broccoli kid, put the relish in my back pocket…

We will see about that.

Gomos: This is what happens when you use butter as a tool instead of an ingredient.

Gomos: I have 2 blenders, a food processor, a deep fryer, a toaster + toaster oven, a waffle press, mixers and all the accessories. All of them, filthy as shit.

Gomos: Heart breaker; ill ass bacon, made by my pops, went over the hill.

Tron: A real tragedy for all Bacon connoisseurs out there… Real talk, illest shit you’ve ever put your glands on, no lies. Wedding meal in it’s own.

Pause.

Gomos’ lifestyle forced him to cook most of his meals on this panini press. This pushed him to be creative with his laziness and so he’s developed this mooked-out technique of making two of the greezyest three level white-boy sandwiches a mook would want. The ingredients are simple: Bootleg Wonderbread, bacon, mayo, lettuce (optional) butter and bootleg Kraft singles. Peep the science…

Gomos: The Weapon.

Once, in a fit of rage because I couldn’t fit my massive fucking sandwich in the machine, I broke the swivel-arm so it’s essentially two free floating grills that just rests open like that.

Never washed. Ever.

As I said, butter as a tool. Learn from the boss, kids.

Different colored eggs on special from Esposito, gay cats in a filthy kitchen with two stupid-high grown-ass men making ghetto sandwiches having conventions about nothing remotely intelligent, relevant or insightful and having a great time. The Mook Life

Gomos: First comes the egg.

Then bread on top, cook the egg into it.

….then drink…

…while pressing that shit.

Now for a lesson that is considered one of the most basic skills of mook cuisine; the Dry Rub. Note the caked on filth and grease?

Fuck water; just rub it off with a sponge.

After the flip to cook that bread a bit, slap some bacon up on that bitch and let that shitty stringy excuse for bacon seep fat onto the grill.

Flash press the bacon before…

Folding the pieces under the toast, against the grill. (note the puddles of grease)

After using the toast to soak up the grease, slap your transparent simu-dairy slice on top.

Now, put another piece of toast on top, and flip that bitch so that the new piece is underneath.

Close and press, with a touch of weight for extra sizzle.

Time to think of a plate. Remember that dry rub? Well, find the least dirty plate available…

and dry rub that shit spotless.

Last 2 pieces of toast to clean the grill; wipe and press them.

Then put your shitty lettuce and condiments on hurr.

Like a shitty facial.

Slam that bitch down.

Gomos: Proper table etiquette is a must for all mooks.

Or, you can just eat with your filthy hands you fucking mooks. I had a quarter of a sandwich and I can honestly say it was very tasty.

On the real, can’t judge a man if you don’t pay his moma’s rent. Word to Styles P. Personal choices that don’t negatively affect the people around you might be fucking strange at times but then again there are people out there who like to eat shit and piss on each other. Do I judge them? Obviously I do. Does it offend me? Not at all. I find it very entertaining. I won’t participate but if you let me take flicks while you engage in such obliquitous activities, I might just take you up on that offer. It’s not every day you get to experience such behavior so in every sense of the word, its very exclusive.

By all means, I’m not saying that we should all be living like this. But think of the money he has saved on cleaning products. Also, by not using cleaning products he actually did less damage to the planet. Who is the dirty fucker now? All you judgmental pricks… You sissy faggots who separate everything neatly in individual Ziplocs  and Tupperwares that eventually pollute our planet. You compulsive hand sanitizing shook-ones who are only good for feeding the machine of capitalism by buying all these products that dump endless amounts of toxic waste in to our water supplies world wide. Ha ha, on the real, I’m just fucking with y’all…No Immortal Technique. Yeah, it’s fucked up, but seen from a different angle, it’s not that bad after all. Just like McDonald’s. We all know it’s horrible shit but we still end up eating it cause when you’re drunk and hungry at 5 AM, a donkey’s asshole with some ketchup and mayo will taste as good as a McPoulet. Word life.

Tron: Can you believe that someone came into this place on the same day and signed a lease to this apartment? True story!… RIP.

Gomos moved out with his gay cats to a nice new clean apartment and apparently this vicious cycle has been broken, for now.

Gomos has shown considerable signs of willful and significant change as well as an increase in general cleanliness. Only time will tell. I wish you the best homie. Maybe you let me come back in a year or two and we can do a follow up? Let me know.