Oh my god, ew. I'm coming to you live from the intimate lounge in Grand Central Station, surrounded by LIT'rally every homeless person and transsexual New York City has to offer. I had no idea they'd all be here tonight. To be honest, I feel terribly out of place, what with all my original teeth and private parts. What they must think of me. Luckily, in just a few minutes I'll be boarding a trolley to Connecticut for a gorgeous little weekend in the country. A dear friend of mine has a beautiful place up there, and I like to go every so often when I'm feeling the need to escape and rejuvenate. And boy am I ever in need. My quest for a new address this week has come no closer to a conclusion.
Yesterday I scheduled an appointment to see an apartment, which from an ad on Craigslist sounded like the perfect place for me; Prime location, brand new appliances, pet-friendly, and in order to afford it I'd have to turn tricks 3 to 4 times a week and cut food out of my diet. (In other words, just within my price range.) Not two minutes after I left work and started over to see it, I received a call from the broker who placed the ad, Veronica, informing me that the perfect apartment for me had in fact already been rented (to not me.) She apologized, and tried futilely to redeem herself by offering to show me another place that was "only" 200 dollars more a month than my specified limit, which is what the original place cost.
My prompt and polite refusal to even look was followed by an eternal, deafening silence, and an eventual "O-Kaaaaay...?" from Veronica. (The same condescending, pseudo-perplexed reaction you might get after being invited to the "hottest party of the season" by the coolest girl in school and having to decline because you have to wake up early to help your grandmother with her needlepoint.) "But it's only 200 more than the other one", persisted Veronica. Oh really, Veronica?? Is that all?? OK. You're right. I guess I just hadn't done the math. WRAP IT UP! I'LL TAKE IT!. And while we're at it, maybe you can show me something in a Victorian Palace for the weekends. Schmuck. I mean, does she not understand that to say my purse strings are tight would be a gross euphemism for the condition of my purse right now?; that every single dollar has a huge impact on my life?; that I've taken to giving myself bi-weekly enemas, hoping to find spare change? And this is not the first time my resistance to budge from my budget has been met with such utter confusion by some of these brokers to whom money is apparently a non-issue, contrary to what their hideous wardrobes suggest. I'm over it.
Aaanyway, in other news: The issue of HX magazine my little review is featured in this week was posted on PerezHilton today (CLICK HERE), and I'm being told made E!'s Top 10 list or something. Possibly because of me....Possibly because Janet Jackson is on the cover, and mentions kicking Madonna's ass in her interview. You decide.
OK. NOW BOARDING AT TRACK 105.