Livin in a Ghetto Paradise

I am being completely honest in saying I love being a poor college student. This is in part because being a poor college student entails enjoying the adventure of ghettoness without being destined to live as such for the rest of my life (hopefully...) It also helps me feel connected with all of my rapper friends in D-town (yes, I have many). I also am still in that wonderful stage of life where my parents will still come to my economic rescue when situations turn dire. Living in ghetto circumstances also helps build character (a term commonly used by mature adults who are well established and past any apparent character building stages of life who sit back and laugh at the upcoming generations attempts to gain this quality)
Ghetto related character building opportunities I have had recently
1. We have an immortal flannel couch on our balcony, a spray painted outline of a broom next to our doorway, and a plastic bucket filled with who knows what. I am 99.9% positive management will insist we dump the couch somewhere and make our apartment semi-attractive looking to the possible future tenants. I am planning to refuse on the premise that is will give those newcomers a false sense of what B-monty is all about.
2. The only time we can take a shower and get warm water is between the hours of 9PM-12PM Otherwise, we get to appreciate what those poor Inuits endure everyday of their lives. Side note: Has anyone else wondered whether Inuits shower? I think about it pretty regularly.
3. Until recently (though it is still semi-continuing), every time the girls above us flushed their toilet, pipe water rained down on our unsuspecting selves resulting in the Second Epic Quarantine of the bathroom (the First Epic Quarantine occurred Freshman year when D and I decided to apply my Chem105 principles to unclogging our shower drain with an acid-base reaction causing the entire 2nd floor to reek of hazardous fumes)

4. Right before break, the middle bedroom window (aka mine and Sars), decided to let in enough water onto our pillows and sheets to support micro biotic life forms. I even named a few of them before incinerating them in my grams' dryer.

5. My passenger side door still refuses to unlock unless I rip my right shoulder out of its socket.

6. My computer still sounds as if it is having a grand mal seizure every time I turn it on. Or off for that matter.

7. Our hall door likes to imitate doors from other horror novels and refuse to open or close at times it is most necessary. It slightly reminds me of Kreacher before the seventh book..

There have been other pleasant instances I am choosing not to relate as per my intent is to show how these numbered happenings have made me a more optimistic and grateful person. I have never appreciated those little things in life more than I do now. Non-cholera infested bathrooms, car doors that work, computers that remain relatively silent, doors that open normally, and the list goes on and on. So, for any of you few who read this, I hope any ghettoness coming your way makes you feel fantastically appreciative, ridiculously desirous to drop a beat or two, and anxiously hoping to buy my contract after this year to gain the same degree of character should you not be developing it sufficiently in your current circumstances :)