You've had too much to think.
Oh bloody hell, where to start.
So, I signed the lease today on my studio apartment. It is a massive effort finding somewhere to live here. The market here moves so fast, due to so many people and something ridiculous like a (100 - 10^7)% occupancy. The brokers are sharks, the landlords are greedy, and other would-be renters have a headstart on me with fancy things like "credit history", "permanent addresses", "social security numbers", "bank accounts", and "actual money". For about 2 weeks, I was hopped up on wheelbarrow loads worth of Starbucks rocketfuel, hitting refresh on craigslist like it was the fire button on Space Invaders, then ducking off several times a day to see places, often with several other people viewing the place at the same time. Not only that, it has been a heatwave since I've been here (35 to 40 degrees most days), with intermittent torrential rain* complicating matters.
I managed to put an application in on a place, and then it almost didn't happen. I was categorically assured by work that I would have the funds available in my account on time, via wire transfer, in order to pay bond, rent, and broker's extortion fee. That is, I sent this plain-as-day email:
I have an appointment to sign my lease at 11:30am on Wed Aug 2. Can you let me know between now and then if it looks like there is going to be any delay which would mean that I wouldn't be able to hand over certified cheques then? That would be greatly appreciated.
and was given a positive response. I go to the bank today, no funds. I contact Ms. Bumblefuck McTwat in HR, and she says cheques would be issued at the end of the day. I became, um, lets call it... exasperated. Thankfully, my supervisor overheard the commotion, and offered to pop down the bank and get the 8-odd grand required out of his own personal funds, which I would pay back later. What a champion, I can't imagine what would have happened otherwise.
But I can't move in there until 9/1 (That's numerologically significant, man. Also, American date formatting smokes mollusc reproductive appendages). So in the mean time, I've managed to arrange a sublet for a month in a flat with a bunch of sweaty untidy men. I had to clean the furnished room before I moved in, and among the magical surprises left behind was a used dinger. What a crappy way to brag about getting your end away. It's only for a month, so I can hack it. Walking into the bathroom when I'm half asleep means that I'm actually able to use the dunny and shower, although after being woken up in the shower, I become queasy and make a hasty exit.
It may sound like I'm bitching a lot, but I'm having an awesome time.
Perks are best summarized in point form:
Heads up: I can't access/use Gmail from work, or any other new-fangled form of communication (including mobile phone) for that matter, except my work email and work phone, due to compliance regulations. That is, apparently I'm privy to market sensitive information, and all communications has to be monitored to make sure there's no insider trading going down. That is despite the fact that, at the moment, I barely know which end of the office chair to sit on.
Funny story. There are these god-botherers who hang around public places called "Jews for Jesus". I think that's a pretty funny name for a movement for some reason, and they have these awesome t-shirts with that emblazoned on them. I know Steve would love one of these shirts, especially since he buys Christmas cards and then turns Santa Claus into a Rabbi by giving him long ringlets, a Jew hat, and "Oy, Oy, Oy..." voice balloons. Anyway, I was cruising down the markets on Bleeker st on Saturday, and momentarily paused at one of their stalls, scoping for J4J t-shirts. The guy there bails me up and goes "Oh HI, who do you think Jesus really was?", to which I imperiously replied "A myth!". He starts banging on in reply, and I attempted to rejoin with my opinion several times. Eventually, I spat the dummy and said "Look mate, do you want to have a conversation or would you prefer to talk to yourself?", turned on my heel, and strode off into the crowd. He cried, "come back!", and then when I was about 10 metres away, yelled "PLEASE COME BACK! I'M READY TO LISTEN NOW!!!" More than a few people turned around at this point, and it must have looked as though I dropped some bombs on his faith, then left him high and dry! Brilliant.
Anyway, I know I've gone off the radar on a number of fronts, but the last three weeks have been, um, involved.
* Like, wall of water rain. One day I got absolutely, completely saturated when hiking back from the East Village, after looking at some spectacularly overpriced, vermin infested, delapidated apartment, which was so tiny you had to open the window to talk. When I got back to work, I went downstairs and got someone to dry my clothes. Sweet, as.
** Or possibly I can't be arsed unloading them from my camera.
*** I don't know how to use a jockstrap, and initial experiments have been a bit traumatic. The first time I tried it au naturale (with shorts over the top, of course), and after 20 minutes on the bike, I had a red, inflamed scrotum for a few days afterward. This was due to the coarse nature of the material, not at all due to the, um, communal nature of the jockstraps. Not to be deterred, I tried it as a layer between the old Reg Grundies and shorts, which didn't seem to do much except make that whole region really, really hot and sweaty by the end of the workout, which is a great look. Honestly, what are they for? Google Image search seems to indicate that they are indeed worn au naturale, and that they are for men who specifically prefer the company of other men.
So, I signed the lease today on my studio apartment. It is a massive effort finding somewhere to live here. The market here moves so fast, due to so many people and something ridiculous like a (100 - 10^7)% occupancy. The brokers are sharks, the landlords are greedy, and other would-be renters have a headstart on me with fancy things like "credit history", "permanent addresses", "social security numbers", "bank accounts", and "actual money". For about 2 weeks, I was hopped up on wheelbarrow loads worth of Starbucks rocketfuel, hitting refresh on craigslist like it was the fire button on Space Invaders, then ducking off several times a day to see places, often with several other people viewing the place at the same time. Not only that, it has been a heatwave since I've been here (35 to 40 degrees most days), with intermittent torrential rain* complicating matters.
I managed to put an application in on a place, and then it almost didn't happen. I was categorically assured by work that I would have the funds available in my account on time, via wire transfer, in order to pay bond, rent, and broker's extortion fee. That is, I sent this plain-as-day email:
I have an appointment to sign my lease at 11:30am on Wed Aug 2. Can you let me know between now and then if it looks like there is going to be any delay which would mean that I wouldn't be able to hand over certified cheques then? That would be greatly appreciated.
and was given a positive response. I go to the bank today, no funds. I contact Ms. Bumblefuck McTwat in HR, and she says cheques would be issued at the end of the day. I became, um, lets call it... exasperated. Thankfully, my supervisor overheard the commotion, and offered to pop down the bank and get the 8-odd grand required out of his own personal funds, which I would pay back later. What a champion, I can't imagine what would have happened otherwise.
But I can't move in there until 9/1 (That's numerologically significant, man. Also, American date formatting smokes mollusc reproductive appendages). So in the mean time, I've managed to arrange a sublet for a month in a flat with a bunch of sweaty untidy men. I had to clean the furnished room before I moved in, and among the magical surprises left behind was a used dinger. What a crappy way to brag about getting your end away. It's only for a month, so I can hack it. Walking into the bathroom when I'm half asleep means that I'm actually able to use the dunny and shower, although after being woken up in the shower, I become queasy and make a hasty exit.
It may sound like I'm bitching a lot, but I'm having an awesome time.
Perks are best summarized in point form:
- With my work ID, I get free admission (plus four) to all the museums and stuff in NYC. Rad, eh? And no waiting in line with the common plebe, it's straight through to the members/patrons desk. Not last weekend, but the one before, KT and I did the MOMA. Then last weekend I spent Sunday arvo at the Museum of Natural History, and it was awesome. Dinosaurs galore. Also, ancestors of mammals are highly underrated, at least by me till now. I have photos, but they are possibly too awesome to post. **
- A totally awesome gym just for employees, with every possible cardio/resistance machine you could ever imagine even in your wildest fever induced dreams. 30 bux a month, ka-ching. Also, all you need to take is shoes, and they give you shirt/shorts/socks/towell.... and.. a jockstrap, which they launder when you're done.***
- If you knock off after 9, free taxi home!
- Like, health, dental and other dreary but important stuff.
- I forget the rest, but I've already written more here than either you or I deserve.
Heads up: I can't access/use Gmail from work, or any other new-fangled form of communication (including mobile phone) for that matter, except my work email and work phone, due to compliance regulations. That is, apparently I'm privy to market sensitive information, and all communications has to be monitored to make sure there's no insider trading going down. That is despite the fact that, at the moment, I barely know which end of the office chair to sit on.
Funny story. There are these god-botherers who hang around public places called "Jews for Jesus". I think that's a pretty funny name for a movement for some reason, and they have these awesome t-shirts with that emblazoned on them. I know Steve would love one of these shirts, especially since he buys Christmas cards and then turns Santa Claus into a Rabbi by giving him long ringlets, a Jew hat, and "Oy, Oy, Oy..." voice balloons. Anyway, I was cruising down the markets on Bleeker st on Saturday, and momentarily paused at one of their stalls, scoping for J4J t-shirts. The guy there bails me up and goes "Oh HI, who do you think Jesus really was?", to which I imperiously replied "A myth!". He starts banging on in reply, and I attempted to rejoin with my opinion several times. Eventually, I spat the dummy and said "Look mate, do you want to have a conversation or would you prefer to talk to yourself?", turned on my heel, and strode off into the crowd. He cried, "come back!", and then when I was about 10 metres away, yelled "PLEASE COME BACK! I'M READY TO LISTEN NOW!!!" More than a few people turned around at this point, and it must have looked as though I dropped some bombs on his faith, then left him high and dry! Brilliant.
Anyway, I know I've gone off the radar on a number of fronts, but the last three weeks have been, um, involved.
* Like, wall of water rain. One day I got absolutely, completely saturated when hiking back from the East Village, after looking at some spectacularly overpriced, vermin infested, delapidated apartment, which was so tiny you had to open the window to talk. When I got back to work, I went downstairs and got someone to dry my clothes. Sweet, as.
** Or possibly I can't be arsed unloading them from my camera.
*** I don't know how to use a jockstrap, and initial experiments have been a bit traumatic. The first time I tried it au naturale (with shorts over the top, of course), and after 20 minutes on the bike, I had a red, inflamed scrotum for a few days afterward. This was due to the coarse nature of the material, not at all due to the, um, communal nature of the jockstraps. Not to be deterred, I tried it as a layer between the old Reg Grundies and shorts, which didn't seem to do much except make that whole region really, really hot and sweaty by the end of the workout, which is a great look. Honestly, what are they for? Google Image search seems to indicate that they are indeed worn au naturale, and that they are for men who specifically prefer the company of other men.
posted by dr. cok at 8:08 AM
21 comments
