So the apartment has not been rented, which means at least a month of double rent for yours truly.
Which means no Europe for me.
My boyfriend, who has a ton of money saved for buying a home outright and a ton of worthful stock he's excited to sell and an apartment that he rented with zero effort because my friend gave him a tenant and who will be going to Europe not once but twice this year, just called to tell me that his friend invited him to the world-premiere red carpet showing of Mission Impossible: 3 at The Ziegfeld, which we have both been very excited about and talking about non-stop for months and now he is going to see it with Tom Cruise and Philip Seymoure-Hoffman.
I said "Of course you should go." What am I supposed to say? No? We were supposed to do that together? Don't hang out with Tom Cruise?
"Are you going to be jealous?"
"Yes."
"Did that girl rent the apartment?"
"No."
"What about the other guy? Did you hear from him?"
"Of course not."
"Well, I'm pretty psyched. I guess since Tom Cruise is going to be there so I can't bring a weapon."
Silence.
"What? Don't you get it?"
"I think I should get off the phone. I'm going to start crying if I don't."
So he said "Oh, OK, bye," and hung up.
I am crying at work. Like actual tears streaming down my face. No sobbing, so that's good. I have to meet up with a girl to whom I am selling D's silverware, and then I am going to get my hair cut and be expected to be pleasant and fun.
I hope I don't see him today. All of this stress I am experiencing is unfairly being deflected onto him, but I guess when you're in a relationship and the source of your stress is the fact that you moved in with someone who is not experiencing the same stress, you tend to get a little bitter. I guess I naively thought we would share this, but apparently we don't.
OK. Now I am about to sob.
I have to pull it together to explain how I want someone to fix this horrific haircut that D gave me.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Windows
Would someone please tell my dear boyfriend that "dirty windows" is not listed among the reasons why my old apartment is not being rented?
The man is obsessed.
He offered this morning to conduct this evening's apartment viewing so that I could actually go straight home post-work for the first time ever in the new apartment. I'd planned on taking him up on his offer, until I ran into him at work, where he complained about his "stiff neck" and how "so tired" he is and how he wants to "sit in the hot tub tonight" because his neck "hurts so bad."
I feel bad for him and his stiff neck, and don't want him to have to be at the apartment. He should not have to sit at the apartment so that I can relax for one night since it is he who has a stiff neck.
I said "Look, no, don't worry about it. You don't need to be there. I'll go."
"No, I don't mind. Just give me your keys."
"Well, I mind. Your neck hurts. You're in a bad mood. You clearly don't want to do this tonight. You want to sit in the hot tub."
"No, I'll do it."
"Don't worry about it."
"Well, then, can I come and keep you company?"
Much more appealing, because then it wouldn't be complete torture for either of us.
I agreed to the keeping of company.
He called just now and said "I'm coming to get your keys."
"Why?"
"So I can meet people."
"But nobody will be there."
"Why not?"
"Because I told people to come at 6:00 because that's when I can be there."
"Oh, ok. Then I'll meet you up there?"
"Really, you don't have to come. It's ok."
"Well, I really want to clean the windows."
"No."
"I bet if you clean the windows people will rent it."
"No."
"No, I want to."
"Look, I'm not going to stop you, but every single person who has walked into that apartment has said 'This is the cleanest apartment I've ever seen' followed by 'Wow, the sunlight here is amazing.' I don't think city dust on the windows is the reason people aren't renting it."
"No, but it will make a difference."
"I don't think it will make the difference. Honestly, honey, I'm not sure most people are looking at the outsides of city windows. I know it's important to you but I think they probably know that the windows are going to be gross again in two weeks, especially living above the gas station that sometimes has explosions followed by immense clouds of chemical dust."
"I think it will get rented if I go up there with a towel..."
"No."
"But..."
"No."
"But..."
"No. It is the price and the location and the size and not the outside of the windows. I promise you. Nobody is going to pass up an apartment they actually like because of the windows. Please."
"OK. See you at home."
Am I wrong? Are people really concerned with this? Honestly, when I've seen apartments I've liked I have never noticed the status of the outsides of the windows. I've looked at the insides. I've made sure I can see out of them. I agree with him that a clean window really makes a big difference, but I don't think its a deal breaker, especially not in NYC.
Not to mention the fact that it is not my responsibility to maintain the outside of the building. Yes, if I lived there and I was driven mad by the insantly accumulating city residue on my windows (like D), sure, clean them. But after I've moved out? No.
If he wants to, he can do it, but I don't want to be there if he's doing it whilst in a vile mood.
Which reminds me... I have an apartment to show!
Until tomorrow...
The man is obsessed.
He offered this morning to conduct this evening's apartment viewing so that I could actually go straight home post-work for the first time ever in the new apartment. I'd planned on taking him up on his offer, until I ran into him at work, where he complained about his "stiff neck" and how "so tired" he is and how he wants to "sit in the hot tub tonight" because his neck "hurts so bad."
I feel bad for him and his stiff neck, and don't want him to have to be at the apartment. He should not have to sit at the apartment so that I can relax for one night since it is he who has a stiff neck.
I said "Look, no, don't worry about it. You don't need to be there. I'll go."
"No, I don't mind. Just give me your keys."
"Well, I mind. Your neck hurts. You're in a bad mood. You clearly don't want to do this tonight. You want to sit in the hot tub."
"No, I'll do it."
"Don't worry about it."
"Well, then, can I come and keep you company?"
Much more appealing, because then it wouldn't be complete torture for either of us.
I agreed to the keeping of company.
He called just now and said "I'm coming to get your keys."
"Why?"
"So I can meet people."
"But nobody will be there."
"Why not?"
"Because I told people to come at 6:00 because that's when I can be there."
"Oh, ok. Then I'll meet you up there?"
"Really, you don't have to come. It's ok."
"Well, I really want to clean the windows."
"No."
"I bet if you clean the windows people will rent it."
"No."
"No, I want to."
"Look, I'm not going to stop you, but every single person who has walked into that apartment has said 'This is the cleanest apartment I've ever seen' followed by 'Wow, the sunlight here is amazing.' I don't think city dust on the windows is the reason people aren't renting it."
"No, but it will make a difference."
"I don't think it will make the difference. Honestly, honey, I'm not sure most people are looking at the outsides of city windows. I know it's important to you but I think they probably know that the windows are going to be gross again in two weeks, especially living above the gas station that sometimes has explosions followed by immense clouds of chemical dust."
"I think it will get rented if I go up there with a towel..."
"No."
"But..."
"No."
"But..."
"No. It is the price and the location and the size and not the outside of the windows. I promise you. Nobody is going to pass up an apartment they actually like because of the windows. Please."
"OK. See you at home."
Am I wrong? Are people really concerned with this? Honestly, when I've seen apartments I've liked I have never noticed the status of the outsides of the windows. I've looked at the insides. I've made sure I can see out of them. I agree with him that a clean window really makes a big difference, but I don't think its a deal breaker, especially not in NYC.
Not to mention the fact that it is not my responsibility to maintain the outside of the building. Yes, if I lived there and I was driven mad by the insantly accumulating city residue on my windows (like D), sure, clean them. But after I've moved out? No.
If he wants to, he can do it, but I don't want to be there if he's doing it whilst in a vile mood.
Which reminds me... I have an apartment to show!
Until tomorrow...
Last Night
Two no-shows. Jerks.
And again, two really enthusiastic girls. As with the night before, one took all of the information and said "I am going to go there tomorrow to fill out an application! I WANT this apartment! It's perfect for me." I asked her to call me either way, even if she changed her mind, as I asked the girl the night before.
I've heard from neither of them. Of course.
I really can't take this anymore. I can't believe that my old apartment has become my entire life. I have spent more time in that apartment since I've moved out than I ever did when I lived there.
I hate people.
Except for the guys who bought my bookshelf last night.
And again, two really enthusiastic girls. As with the night before, one took all of the information and said "I am going to go there tomorrow to fill out an application! I WANT this apartment! It's perfect for me." I asked her to call me either way, even if she changed her mind, as I asked the girl the night before.
I've heard from neither of them. Of course.
I really can't take this anymore. I can't believe that my old apartment has become my entire life. I have spent more time in that apartment since I've moved out than I ever did when I lived there.
I hate people.
Except for the guys who bought my bookshelf last night.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Catching Up
OK. Getting caught up. Ugh. Work is still crazy, apartment is still unrented, life is still stressful but normalcy will return eventually.
Here are some things I meant to blog about but didn't because I have been too busy calling strangers and working like a maniac and, well, yeah. Breathe.
1. I saw Kinky Boots, which is a film in my favorite genre, that being feel-good but not-too-sappy wacky based-on-a-true-story British film with British or Scottish people doing weird things in a very cute way. I loved it, and it was just what my mood needed this weekend. Thanks, PW, for coming out in the rain and giving me a hug.
2. The Boss was mean to me and I was all upset, especially given the mood as of late. I know that he, too, is stressed. I vow if I ever am The Boss that I will not allow stress to trickle down. I wanted to cry, to look for a new job, to crawl into a hole. The following day he apologized and said it wasn't fair of him and that he is going through family drama and he took out his anger towards his brother on me. Oh, The Boss. He's a good guy. We all handle stress differently.
3. I started a new class last week. It was terrible. I knew too much. The teacher was also terrible. She sat down to teach and used notecards. If you have to use notecards to teach the class, you probably shouldn't be teaching the class.
4. I transferred into an entirely different class. When the TA (who looks just like young Cher) told us that the real teacher would be out sick and that we'd be having a substitute, I had a panic attack because I was nearly certain that the teacher from the previous class would be the sub. Luckily she was not, and intead we had this gigantic Austrian guy whose catch phrase was "as such."
5. When you are cohabitating you end up watching things that you wouldn't ordinarily watch. D was given a copy of MTV's Wonder Showzen on DVD for his birthday. It's ok. Funny at times. Mostly tasteless. In case you don't know what it is (neither D nor I had ever heard of it - I guess this is the sort of thing you know about if you have cable), it is basically Sesame Street for adults, and in incredibly bad taste with kids saying things that they don't understand. I guess its pretty funny. Anyway, one of the puppets (green) was distressed and was trying to convince another puppet to let her do something, so she was like "I will put on a puppet show to convince you!" So the green puppet put on a puppet show with mini puppet-versions of her and the other puppet. And then the mini puppet version of the green puppet put on a smaller puppet show of the same thing. And then the even smaller puppet put on yet another smaller puppet show of the same thing. It was so freaking funny.
6. The new stove sucks. Hard. D tried to make crepes and it was a disaster.
7. We tried to make potato pancakes last night and they too were a disaster.
8. Luckily the fried ravioli were good.
9. I have yet to locate a superball-selling machine in this city! Where are kids getting superballs!?
10. It's hard to write songs when you live with someone else. While D was running I wrote the song. When he went out to grab milk I quickly recorded it. While he was in the shower I did vocals. I haven't mixed it down yet, though. Hopefully I will have time to do that tonight after showing my apartment and selling bookshelves and watching The Gilmore Girls. I think D will be mortified that I watch that show, but he can deal.
11. It's also hard to call your girlfriends to flip out about living with someone when you live with someone.
12. I didn't sleep very much this weekend. I think things are settling in, and it's not that I'm distressed. I am just aware of the seriousness of such decisions and about the amount of effort that living together will require. I think living together requires a new level of dialogue that I am not immediately comfortable with. We have to find sweet ways of saying "I need to be alone now" and "I need you to be with me now while I cry."
13. I said both of those things this weekend. The first was remarkably easy to say. The second was extremely difficult.
14. I went grocery shopping this weekend with D for food for our apartment. Utterly insane.
15. The apartment is looking good. I am trying to decide if it's worth it to buy new bedding. We both went nuts about this set we saw in SoHo and we've been obsessed ever since. Do we need it? No. Do either of us have real grownup bedding? No. My sheets are lame, I am in no way attached to them. I bought them because they were purple and because they were cheap. My blankets are equally lame, and I've had them for even longer. His sheets used to be navy but are now faded. I think grownup bedding is a worthwhile investment, but every time we get tempted with such things I say "Hold off... we will wait for a time when someone will give them to us" and then we both giggle and freak out and then get excited. I think if I rent my apartment before 5/1 I will buy them for us, because new fancy luscious sheets are a good investment and it will be something for us, which I think is important. When I said "I really think we should just get them" he said "So do I, but we're not leaving many things for people to give to us..."
16. I haven't talked to anyone in ages. I haven't even talked to my parents. I'm so cut off. I haven't read the news. I have no idea what's going on in the world outside of my two apartments and my bench. It's terrible.
17. I slept on the couch on Saturday night because I was sad.
18. I have to learn that informing someone of your sadness can actually make you happier.
19. At what point in a relationship will I be comfortable and not rendered incapacitated with insecurity when my boyfriend talks about some girl he met at a party who he talked to all night and who was so cool because she's an industrial designer and then looks up her line on the web and then says that he has invited us to visit her in Philadelphia because not only is she an industrial designer how awesome is that but she is also an artist and painter and we can see her studio? Luckily I knew of the line he was talking about and said "You will hate it" before he looked it up and realized that he hated it. And yes, he invited us to her studio but no, I do not want to go to her studio and be all third wheel while they talk art and while he hangs on her every word and brushstroke. I said "Actually, I'll just hang out with NR when we go to Philly since that's why we're going to Philly and you can be smitten on your own." Ouch. Bitchy. But moreso because of other things non-related to industrial designing girls. This is all but forgotten, but will be a sore subject when Philly happens.
20. Am feeling more positive today because the sun is shining and the boss has apologized and people were nice to my apartment last night and I don't care about girls in Philadelphia because I like living with D now and I think everything will be fine. Right. It will.
Here are some things I meant to blog about but didn't because I have been too busy calling strangers and working like a maniac and, well, yeah. Breathe.
1. I saw Kinky Boots, which is a film in my favorite genre, that being feel-good but not-too-sappy wacky based-on-a-true-story British film with British or Scottish people doing weird things in a very cute way. I loved it, and it was just what my mood needed this weekend. Thanks, PW, for coming out in the rain and giving me a hug.
2. The Boss was mean to me and I was all upset, especially given the mood as of late. I know that he, too, is stressed. I vow if I ever am The Boss that I will not allow stress to trickle down. I wanted to cry, to look for a new job, to crawl into a hole. The following day he apologized and said it wasn't fair of him and that he is going through family drama and he took out his anger towards his brother on me. Oh, The Boss. He's a good guy. We all handle stress differently.
3. I started a new class last week. It was terrible. I knew too much. The teacher was also terrible. She sat down to teach and used notecards. If you have to use notecards to teach the class, you probably shouldn't be teaching the class.
4. I transferred into an entirely different class. When the TA (who looks just like young Cher) told us that the real teacher would be out sick and that we'd be having a substitute, I had a panic attack because I was nearly certain that the teacher from the previous class would be the sub. Luckily she was not, and intead we had this gigantic Austrian guy whose catch phrase was "as such."
5. When you are cohabitating you end up watching things that you wouldn't ordinarily watch. D was given a copy of MTV's Wonder Showzen on DVD for his birthday. It's ok. Funny at times. Mostly tasteless. In case you don't know what it is (neither D nor I had ever heard of it - I guess this is the sort of thing you know about if you have cable), it is basically Sesame Street for adults, and in incredibly bad taste with kids saying things that they don't understand. I guess its pretty funny. Anyway, one of the puppets (green) was distressed and was trying to convince another puppet to let her do something, so she was like "I will put on a puppet show to convince you!" So the green puppet put on a puppet show with mini puppet-versions of her and the other puppet. And then the mini puppet version of the green puppet put on a smaller puppet show of the same thing. And then the even smaller puppet put on yet another smaller puppet show of the same thing. It was so freaking funny.
6. The new stove sucks. Hard. D tried to make crepes and it was a disaster.
7. We tried to make potato pancakes last night and they too were a disaster.
8. Luckily the fried ravioli were good.
9. I have yet to locate a superball-selling machine in this city! Where are kids getting superballs!?
10. It's hard to write songs when you live with someone else. While D was running I wrote the song. When he went out to grab milk I quickly recorded it. While he was in the shower I did vocals. I haven't mixed it down yet, though. Hopefully I will have time to do that tonight after showing my apartment and selling bookshelves and watching The Gilmore Girls. I think D will be mortified that I watch that show, but he can deal.
11. It's also hard to call your girlfriends to flip out about living with someone when you live with someone.
12. I didn't sleep very much this weekend. I think things are settling in, and it's not that I'm distressed. I am just aware of the seriousness of such decisions and about the amount of effort that living together will require. I think living together requires a new level of dialogue that I am not immediately comfortable with. We have to find sweet ways of saying "I need to be alone now" and "I need you to be with me now while I cry."
13. I said both of those things this weekend. The first was remarkably easy to say. The second was extremely difficult.
14. I went grocery shopping this weekend with D for food for our apartment. Utterly insane.
15. The apartment is looking good. I am trying to decide if it's worth it to buy new bedding. We both went nuts about this set we saw in SoHo and we've been obsessed ever since. Do we need it? No. Do either of us have real grownup bedding? No. My sheets are lame, I am in no way attached to them. I bought them because they were purple and because they were cheap. My blankets are equally lame, and I've had them for even longer. His sheets used to be navy but are now faded. I think grownup bedding is a worthwhile investment, but every time we get tempted with such things I say "Hold off... we will wait for a time when someone will give them to us" and then we both giggle and freak out and then get excited. I think if I rent my apartment before 5/1 I will buy them for us, because new fancy luscious sheets are a good investment and it will be something for us, which I think is important. When I said "I really think we should just get them" he said "So do I, but we're not leaving many things for people to give to us..."
16. I haven't talked to anyone in ages. I haven't even talked to my parents. I'm so cut off. I haven't read the news. I have no idea what's going on in the world outside of my two apartments and my bench. It's terrible.
17. I slept on the couch on Saturday night because I was sad.
18. I have to learn that informing someone of your sadness can actually make you happier.
19. At what point in a relationship will I be comfortable and not rendered incapacitated with insecurity when my boyfriend talks about some girl he met at a party who he talked to all night and who was so cool because she's an industrial designer and then looks up her line on the web and then says that he has invited us to visit her in Philadelphia because not only is she an industrial designer how awesome is that but she is also an artist and painter and we can see her studio? Luckily I knew of the line he was talking about and said "You will hate it" before he looked it up and realized that he hated it. And yes, he invited us to her studio but no, I do not want to go to her studio and be all third wheel while they talk art and while he hangs on her every word and brushstroke. I said "Actually, I'll just hang out with NR when we go to Philly since that's why we're going to Philly and you can be smitten on your own." Ouch. Bitchy. But moreso because of other things non-related to industrial designing girls. This is all but forgotten, but will be a sore subject when Philly happens.
20. Am feeling more positive today because the sun is shining and the boss has apologized and people were nice to my apartment last night and I don't care about girls in Philadelphia because I like living with D now and I think everything will be fine. Right. It will.
Craigslist People
I've met so many people in the past two weeks its absurd.
On top of meeting a bunch of people every day who do not want to live in my apartment, I've engaged in the "sell everything I own using Craigslist" portion of moving.
Not that I'm selling everything I own. I am selling things that are duplicates of D's things. Included: VCR, 5-disc CD changer, and ancient AIWA stereo from college with a non-functional CD player but decent enough speakers and double tape deck! Woop! I am also selling things that are no longer required, such as my adorable kitchen cart with drawers. Without items in the drawers, lovely. With Hershey Bars and Macaroni and Cheese rations, eye sore. I am trying to sell the wall mounting shelves that saved me in midtown. I am trying to sell the bookshelf I bought for $7 when I moved into my first ever apartment post-college.
D and I agreed that the kitchen cart would sell first and that the AIWA stereo wouldn't sell at all given its age and the fact that it is hideous to behold. D said "Please promise me that if nobody wants that in a week we will remove it from the household." "Well... I want to try to give it away for free before we do that... but yes... I understand, and yes, it will be removed."
We argued about the VCR. D wants me to convert all of my VHS tapes to DVD because "Who watches VHS tapes anymore? We don't need a VCR at all. Nobody uses VCR's. Who uses VCR's?" "I bet it will sell. I'm only selling it for $10." "But why would people be watching VHS?" "I don't know... old home movies, maybe they still tape things because not everyone can afford a TiVo, I don't know. It will sell."
The items were sold in this order:
Kitchen cart (stampede for this; sold to a frantic girl who had just moved into a new place and who was trying to buy D's IKEA dresser which was not for sale, sadly she did not want any electronics)
VCR (hah!; to an equally frantic girl who said "Mine just broke and I'm going away for a week and have to find one before I leave!")
AIWA Stereo (inconceivable!; sold to a DJ who has turntables but no money left, he will use it as a receiver since it is black and in his opinion decent looking and was thrilled about the tape deck because he will be able to tape his music; his friends gushed about our apartment and D and I were ever so proud)
Someone is coming to pick up the book shelf tonight, and hopefully the white sort-of-floating shelves. That leaves only the 5-disc changer, which I thought would sell rather quickly.
You can't predict these things. You can't predict what people will need.
I have no idea how we existed pre-Craig.
On top of meeting a bunch of people every day who do not want to live in my apartment, I've engaged in the "sell everything I own using Craigslist" portion of moving.
Not that I'm selling everything I own. I am selling things that are duplicates of D's things. Included: VCR, 5-disc CD changer, and ancient AIWA stereo from college with a non-functional CD player but decent enough speakers and double tape deck! Woop! I am also selling things that are no longer required, such as my adorable kitchen cart with drawers. Without items in the drawers, lovely. With Hershey Bars and Macaroni and Cheese rations, eye sore. I am trying to sell the wall mounting shelves that saved me in midtown. I am trying to sell the bookshelf I bought for $7 when I moved into my first ever apartment post-college.
D and I agreed that the kitchen cart would sell first and that the AIWA stereo wouldn't sell at all given its age and the fact that it is hideous to behold. D said "Please promise me that if nobody wants that in a week we will remove it from the household." "Well... I want to try to give it away for free before we do that... but yes... I understand, and yes, it will be removed."
We argued about the VCR. D wants me to convert all of my VHS tapes to DVD because "Who watches VHS tapes anymore? We don't need a VCR at all. Nobody uses VCR's. Who uses VCR's?" "I bet it will sell. I'm only selling it for $10." "But why would people be watching VHS?" "I don't know... old home movies, maybe they still tape things because not everyone can afford a TiVo, I don't know. It will sell."
The items were sold in this order:
Kitchen cart (stampede for this; sold to a frantic girl who had just moved into a new place and who was trying to buy D's IKEA dresser which was not for sale, sadly she did not want any electronics)
VCR (hah!; to an equally frantic girl who said "Mine just broke and I'm going away for a week and have to find one before I leave!")
AIWA Stereo (inconceivable!; sold to a DJ who has turntables but no money left, he will use it as a receiver since it is black and in his opinion decent looking and was thrilled about the tape deck because he will be able to tape his music; his friends gushed about our apartment and D and I were ever so proud)
Someone is coming to pick up the book shelf tonight, and hopefully the white sort-of-floating shelves. That leaves only the 5-disc changer, which I thought would sell rather quickly.
You can't predict these things. You can't predict what people will need.
I have no idea how we existed pre-Craig.
Lame People
Some other lame people I've encountered whilst trying to rent my apartment:
"Well, seeing this apartment just confirms that I need to increase my budget for rent."
"Ummm... I actually just walked by your apartment and decided I'm not even going to come up because... well... the area."
"No, no, this just won't do. To tell you the truth, I wasn't even interested in this place. It's just on my way home. I don't think you'll have a hard time renting it, though. I just couldn't live here. Why not? Well, I want my friends to visit me and nobody would visit here. I mean, this area just isn't cool enough. I mean, how would I convince my friends to hang out here? I have to live in the East Village or something. And really, money is no object for me so why would I live here?"
(Note: this guy was totally a smug business tool aged approximately 25, to whom I wanted to say "You and your friends suck, and they clearly don't like you very much, since they won't visit you unless your apartment meets certain criteria, but then again, I don't see how anyone could actually like you for you, so I guess I understand where they're coming from.")
"NO! TOO SMALL!" said the girl in her pointy high heels and too-much makeup and impeccable hair, in just enough time before I tackled her and her pointy-heeled friend for fear of their leaving small bitchy little dents in my spotless apartment.
(Note: literally, that's all she said after saying "hello.")
Ugh. It is nice that none of these people liked my apartment, because if they had I'd have been conflicted as I don't want any of these types of people to live there.
Not everyone has been this lame. There have been lukewarm people and charming people and people I'd love to befriend.
But not these people. These people suck, and not because they don't like my apartment. They just suck, and they don't deserve to live in my apartment anyway. Hmph.
"Well, seeing this apartment just confirms that I need to increase my budget for rent."
"Ummm... I actually just walked by your apartment and decided I'm not even going to come up because... well... the area."
"No, no, this just won't do. To tell you the truth, I wasn't even interested in this place. It's just on my way home. I don't think you'll have a hard time renting it, though. I just couldn't live here. Why not? Well, I want my friends to visit me and nobody would visit here. I mean, this area just isn't cool enough. I mean, how would I convince my friends to hang out here? I have to live in the East Village or something. And really, money is no object for me so why would I live here?"
(Note: this guy was totally a smug business tool aged approximately 25, to whom I wanted to say "You and your friends suck, and they clearly don't like you very much, since they won't visit you unless your apartment meets certain criteria, but then again, I don't see how anyone could actually like you for you, so I guess I understand where they're coming from.")
"NO! TOO SMALL!" said the girl in her pointy high heels and too-much makeup and impeccable hair, in just enough time before I tackled her and her pointy-heeled friend for fear of their leaving small bitchy little dents in my spotless apartment.
(Note: literally, that's all she said after saying "hello.")
Ugh. It is nice that none of these people liked my apartment, because if they had I'd have been conflicted as I don't want any of these types of people to live there.
Not everyone has been this lame. There have been lukewarm people and charming people and people I'd love to befriend.
But not these people. These people suck, and not because they don't like my apartment. They just suck, and they don't deserve to live in my apartment anyway. Hmph.
Words
I am trying to figure out what to do with some spinach I have in the refrigerator.
It will soon go bad.
I went to recipesource.com and typed in "spinach," and have been staring at the word "spinach" for the past half an hour and it's tripping me out.
"Spinach" is a really weird looking word, when you stare at it for too long.
SPINACH.
I just typed in "spinach quiche" and I think my brain is about to explode.
It will soon go bad.
I went to recipesource.com and typed in "spinach," and have been staring at the word "spinach" for the past half an hour and it's tripping me out.
"Spinach" is a really weird looking word, when you stare at it for too long.
SPINACH.
I just typed in "spinach quiche" and I think my brain is about to explode.
Nice People
Four viewings of the apartment were scheduled last evening.
I asked D to accompany me, as spending time alone in that place has really been getting to me. He obliged, of course, because he is good-natured and because he's been desperately trying to come up with ways "to help" and "to make things easier" and "to not feel so helpless."
As we approached the apartment, D said "Oh no! I think those two girls are waiting to see your apartment!" We were over a block away. I said "How can you tell?" He said "I can just tell."
I suffered a mild panic, but on the behalf of the girls, because how awkward must it be to look at an apartment you might potentially adore at the same time as someone else? It must be like interviewing for a job at the same exact time as another potential candidate.
I said "Hey, are you guys here to look at the apartment?"
They were both there to look at the apartment.
I fell in love with both of them immediately. I desperately want one of them to live there.
And, bizarrely, they both liked it!
Of course I can't count on strangers to have good credit and to get their acts together enough to fill out an application and woo The Landlord's Lackey (although, I must state on the record that The Landlord's Lackey has metamorphosed into a sickly sweet care-giving woman who said, on the phone yesterday, "I know, this must be so stressful for you, I completely understand and please let me know if there's anything I can do to help"), so hopes are not up.
Nevertheless...
It was slightly awkward when the first girl, more of a go-getter and assured of herself to the point that I was made jealous, declared "I will apply for it. Please give me the information."
The second girl was adorable and I want her to liver there only so I can give her my old shelves and become her new best friend.
A guy came third, and he too was enamored with the place but isn't looking to move until July. But he was flexible. He'd mentioned his salary in my original screening email and yes, he can most certainly be flexible. He had a friend with him, and, again, I immediately fell in love with them both.
Which brings me to the fourth guy, and the fourth guy will be the first in a story of ill-mannered potential tenants about whom I will blog when things are less frantic at work.
OK. First of all, I should have known better as he is "a student." Not that I have anything against students, but students can be, well, flaky, and are therefore less than appealing as potential tenants.
Second of all, he had a name that annoyed me.
He did not show up. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and because I am organized to a fault, I had his name and phone number and appointment time written down on the neverending list of people-who-will-look-at-and-criticize my apartment.
I called him.
This is what happened:
Me: Hello?
Boy: Hello?
Me: Is this Boy?
Boy: Yes.
Me: Hi, this is Leah Lar, I'm wondering if you still wanted to take a look at the apartment tonight.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hi.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hello.
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: (checking phone, having 5 bars)
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: Hello? Can you hear me?
Boy: I can't hear you.
Hangs up.
I call back. Phone rings. He does not pick up. At all.
Tool.
I asked D to accompany me, as spending time alone in that place has really been getting to me. He obliged, of course, because he is good-natured and because he's been desperately trying to come up with ways "to help" and "to make things easier" and "to not feel so helpless."
As we approached the apartment, D said "Oh no! I think those two girls are waiting to see your apartment!" We were over a block away. I said "How can you tell?" He said "I can just tell."
I suffered a mild panic, but on the behalf of the girls, because how awkward must it be to look at an apartment you might potentially adore at the same time as someone else? It must be like interviewing for a job at the same exact time as another potential candidate.
I said "Hey, are you guys here to look at the apartment?"
They were both there to look at the apartment.
I fell in love with both of them immediately. I desperately want one of them to live there.
And, bizarrely, they both liked it!
Of course I can't count on strangers to have good credit and to get their acts together enough to fill out an application and woo The Landlord's Lackey (although, I must state on the record that The Landlord's Lackey has metamorphosed into a sickly sweet care-giving woman who said, on the phone yesterday, "I know, this must be so stressful for you, I completely understand and please let me know if there's anything I can do to help"), so hopes are not up.
Nevertheless...
It was slightly awkward when the first girl, more of a go-getter and assured of herself to the point that I was made jealous, declared "I will apply for it. Please give me the information."
The second girl was adorable and I want her to liver there only so I can give her my old shelves and become her new best friend.
A guy came third, and he too was enamored with the place but isn't looking to move until July. But he was flexible. He'd mentioned his salary in my original screening email and yes, he can most certainly be flexible. He had a friend with him, and, again, I immediately fell in love with them both.
Which brings me to the fourth guy, and the fourth guy will be the first in a story of ill-mannered potential tenants about whom I will blog when things are less frantic at work.
OK. First of all, I should have known better as he is "a student." Not that I have anything against students, but students can be, well, flaky, and are therefore less than appealing as potential tenants.
Second of all, he had a name that annoyed me.
He did not show up. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and because I am organized to a fault, I had his name and phone number and appointment time written down on the neverending list of people-who-will-look-at-and-criticize my apartment.
I called him.
This is what happened:
Me: Hello?
Boy: Hello?
Me: Is this Boy?
Boy: Yes.
Me: Hi, this is Leah Lar, I'm wondering if you still wanted to take a look at the apartment tonight.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hi.
Boy: Hello?
Me: Hello.
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: (checking phone, having 5 bars)
Boy: I can't hear you...
Me: Hello? Can you hear me?
Boy: I can't hear you.
Hangs up.
I call back. Phone rings. He does not pick up. At all.
Tool.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Rain, Please, Go Away
I hate that my mood is directly correlated with the weather.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
Rain, Please, Go Away
I hate that my mood is directly correlated with the weather.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
I hate even more that I walk in a bizarre fashion wherein rain water accumulates on my legs below my knees and moreso in my pant cuffs. I decided to conduct a scientific study this morning and deduced that this phenomenon does not plague everyone, and seems only to affect approximately 1 in 10 people.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffoling in this fair city, I adore it above all else on days like today.
Please, Rain, Go Away
I hate that my mood is directly correlated with the weather.
I also hate that I walk in some bizarre way that causes rain water to accumulate on my legs below my knees, and especially in my pant cuffs. This morning I conducted a study in which I stared at the legs of other people, and deduced that this phenomenon seems not to plague others. I think maybe 1 in 10 people I looked at had wet cuffs.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffolding in NYC, I love it above all else on days like this.
I also hate that I walk in some bizarre way that causes rain water to accumulate on my legs below my knees, and especially in my pant cuffs. This morning I conducted a study in which I stared at the legs of other people, and deduced that this phenomenon seems not to plague others. I think maybe 1 in 10 people I looked at had wet cuffs.
And as much as I hate the prominence of scaffolding in NYC, I love it above all else on days like this.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Black and White
I watched "Good Night and Good Luck" last night, which was mostly boring aside from, of course, George Clooney.
In addition, I couldn't stop marvelling over how much David Straithairn resembles Sam The Eagle. It's uncanny.
In addition, I couldn't stop marvelling over how much David Straithairn resembles Sam The Eagle. It's uncanny.
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