Dormer for Life

Today I locked myself out, so I am writing this as I sit in the library, delaying studying for gross lab until my roommate comes home. It struck me how basically NYC living is like living in the dorms all your life. I present the following evidences:

You pay a shitload of money to live in space suitable for an oompa loompa. Where you continue to sleep on just a matress and box spring because assembling the bed would eat up a few inches of wall space.
High rise living: I *heart* being able to hear the neighbors sex-ing, having to go downstairs to check your mail, and never have packages come through properly the first time around.
Never using your kitchen, except to assemble bowls of cereal.
Really loud ACs, just a foot and half away from your bed.
Seeing the wealthy manhattanites who reside in penthouse lofts with a special mix of envy and distain, kinda like with that kid in college who had a Ferrari in the parking garage.
Only being able to grocery shop for 3 days at a time.
Roommates, even when you're at an age where it's just no good. I can't imagine at 35 and not being able to loaf on the living room sofa naked watching ESPN. And what about kitchen counter sex?!?
Live-in supers = Adult RAs.... and just as useless. Even though for the past month you've run into him in the hallway everyday wearing pajamas and taking out the trash, he still won't unlock your door for you.

Ads for medication are the randomest things. There are all these ads on buses and billboards around the city for some drug called "Kaletra". It contains no useful information, just a picture of some guy looking outward, the name of the drug on top, and a "Ask your doctor" on the bottom. I mean, wtf? I'd think my doctor would know about these drugs already. I mean, is it up to me to suggest it? "I'm afraid I've got some bad news, the cancer has metastisized and it's terminal.... I'm sorry." "Oh really? What about Kaletra?" "Oh yeah! Good thing you mentioned that! I completely forgot! Let me get you a prescription!"