Phase One

Thanks to Dan’s generosity and awesome housewarming gift-giving spirit (fueled by his desire to grill meat outside because deep down he knew I’d never buy one myself), we have a grill. And thanks to a very nice girl on Craig’s List (and me looking like an idiot trying to find a cab while carrying an enormous table on the corner of Essex and Canal), the back “yard” also now has a table that I’m almost positive is not supposed to go outside. It’s just some crap Ikea table top that’s wood covered with that plastic stuff. Whatever, I’m not a carpenter, what do I know? Trees are wood, they’re outside all the time. Anyway, burgers!

Somebody buy a car, so we can make burgers

People always talk about how tough it is to live in New York, “it’ll chew you up and spit you out” kind of thing, and maybe when Liza Minnelli recorded that song in 1977 that was the case, but I’ve never found it to be true. I can make it here (I have so far, anyway, if the term “make it” is used pretty loosely), but I don’t think that necessarily means I can make it anywhere. I probably wouldn’t do so well somewhere like the Congo, for example. I don’t speak French and I think it’s really hot there. Anyway, the 80s were rough for New York, but Giuliani cleaned up the city and now it’s puppies and ice cream, so aside from ridiculous rent and that guy who flashed us on the subway, living here is usually a walk in the park. Usually. Transporting anything bigger than a tomato is another story.

IM from Dan just now: i wonder if i can get a grill in a cab

I hope so, I'm starving.

Rollin'

This was a tough call because I’m pretty lazy, but I’m also pretty cheap and as my bank account’s luck would have it, this time cheap won. A few 6-packs are cheaper than hiring painters, so I guilted my friends into helping me paint my new apartment last night and it’s good thing, because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I painted 1/3 of a wall when Chris Chapple bought his apartment 2 years ago, but other than that I’d never painted anything in my life except for those ghetto houses in Waco in college and no offense, inner city Waco, but I wasn’t all that worried about the quality of work I was doing. And I hadn’t even had a few beers doing that. Ha, it was college…yeah, I had probably had a few beers.

Anyway, the apartment looks dope (I live in Brooklyn now) so shout out (told you) to my paint crew. Props. Or something.

Found: Apartment, Will to Live

I feel extremely unorganized and unprepared for the impending move, but I’m getting yelled at for the lack of recent posts. I’m sorry! I haven’t even had time to watch ANY of Today Throws a Wedding, if it makes you feel any better, and I love that crap. I don’t even know their names this year, and I used to vote online and everything. I know, I’m gross. But what if that poor girl ended up with that hideous dress and it’s all my fault because America has horrible taste and I didn’t vote! I couldn’t let that happen. Thanks to the horrendous nightmare that is moving in this damn city, this year’s bride didn’t have me on her side. I don’t even really care about wedding stuff and I don’t know that girl, but unless she kicks puppies for fun or killed her entire family, she doesn’t deserve to have to wear a heart-shaped diamond ring.

If America didn't come through for you, 2009 Today Bride, I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help. The good news is that I found an apartment, so congratulations to me. If you haven't already, you should start thinking about what you'd like to get me for a housewarming gift. And don't try to get away with that Italian thing of giving a loaf of bread and a penny. I don't care about symbolism and I'm not Italian.

I have a headache

This month may very well kill me. The never-ending debate of space versus location. If I end up dying of indecision and stress, remember me fondly. Tell the world my story.

I'll be back

I haven't posted in a week. Apartment hunting has temporarily taken over my life. I'm no happier about it than you are.

*this Arnold pic totally matches this month's header.

This isn't going to be fun

Holy crap, I have to move.  I’m looking forward to a new apartment—change of scenery, forced spring cleaning, all that. And I’m looking forward to leaving the old apartment. All of the things I dislike about it are relentlessly conspicuous as we near the end of our 5 years together. But in New York, the positives NEVER outweigh the negatives of moving.

Never.

Ever.

It’s a horribly unpleasant experience from beginning to end.

Thing that makes me want to cry #1: Searching through endless online listings, none of which are the bit accurate.

The moving process begins with countless hours spent looking up listings, until inevitably your brain shuts down entirely, and out of sheer exhaustion, you end up letting yourself believe that there really could be a 1 bedroom in the West Village for $1200.

Thing that makes me want to cry #2: This guy:


New York City real estate brokers are soulless criminals and someday, if there’s any justice or goodness or light in this cruel world, they will pay.

"I found you the perfect apartment.  It's $1200, and available precisely when you need it."
Well that's lucky!  Who said this was so hard?  I mean, sure, I have to take an hour out of my work day to go across town to wait another 20 minutes for a disgusting, sweaty, morally-bankrupt excuse for a human being, but THIS time, it's going to pay off. This time it'll be worth it. 
And it is! Look at this place!  I love it!  I can’t believe it’s only…wait, it's how much? The posting said $1200. And you told me $1200.  15 goddamn minutes ago.  Oh, that one was just rented.  In the last 15 minutes.  But this one's just like that one!  Just a $1,000 more.

Alright, that's it.  Next time I’m putting my foot down.

How much is it REALLY, because this is my MAX and I don’t want to look at it if it’s a penny more! It’s definitely in my price range?  Ok.  2 bedroom, lots of light. Sounds perfect!  With no choice but to believe in the good of humanity, I will again take an hour out of my work day.  I will again go across town.  I will again wait, and I will again be met with a disgusting, sweaty, cheap-suit-wearing, morally-bankrupt shell of a human being.   Well, at least I have made myself QUITE clear and there is NO WAY he can bait and switch me again.  AND…!!
This is a studio. You said 2 bedroom. The listing said 2 bedroom.  And, I specifically said "no studios" and you said, "No no, 2 bedroom.”  Oh you meant "2 rooms.  Bedroom/living room/kitchen, and bathroom. 2 rooms."  I hope you die. 

Thing that makes me want to cry #3: Getting that damn couch through the door and down 5 flights of stairs. It’s alarmingly close to physically impossible.

Thing that makes me want to cry most of all:


Forget the hassle, the cost alone is enough to find yourself thinking, “a hundred and what street? Well that’s not too bad. 9 homicides a month you say? But out of how many people? Yeah, see, it doesn’t sound so bad when you think about it that way, right? Plus it’s right by the subway and I'm a pretty fast runner...” Between the broker’s fee, 1st and last month’s rent, the deposit, truck rental, and movers, that TV commercial about selling your gold jewelry starts to sound less and less ridiculous.


That’s where I am right now.

Selling eggs is pretty lucrative, right?