Some good news
Ok, I've realized my blog is taking a negative turn again, and I don't want that. I finally have some good news to share.
I think I've found a place to live.
Shhh...don't jinx it.
I meet these three very cool guys that share a house. Not just a flat, but a real single standing, two story house. It's in a prime location, it has a huge kitchen, and it's actually affordable. Two of the guys are a couple and share a room, and one basically lives with his boyfriend across the street. I don't care, I like them. They are my kinda people.
I met with them yesterday for an interview. Let me just tell you, interviewing with roommates to move in a house is like interviewing for a reality TV show. You have to make an impression. They have to remember who you are when you leave. There are 5000 people looking for affordable housing in this city, and 6 available afforable rooms. I keep running into the same people over and over again at interviews. We eye each other like dogs, about to fight over the last soup bone. It's crazy.
In the end, if you get rejected, it's like being voted off the island. You feel dumped. Why didn't these people like you? Whats wrong? Did your breath smell? Did you seem to eager? Did the other guy imply that you might be a dork? What? It's enough to make you refill your Xanyx perscription.
At one interview I stayed for 3 hours. There were three of us, 2 straight guys and me competing over one room in this KICK ASS house. The guy that owned it was straight, a banker, and a stoner, but had a big ass tv and the house was huge and in the best location in town. Now, if you know me, you know I HATE pot. I hate the smell, I hate the taste. I hate it. But, I was willing to live with a stoner for this house.
We'll call the guys Owner, Dork, and Hottie. Owner was cool and chill, Dork was well, a dork. Hottie was Italian, also a banker, and was wearing a suit. I showed up in t-shirt and jeans. I knew I had dork beat right off the bat. He was a whiner, and you could tell was a big cry baby. Hottie and I were sizing each other up. I knew he had the advantage since he was staight and worked in the same industry as Owner. I however, was willing to do anything to live in this house.
Owner offered us all a beer. I could tell from his stocked fridge he was a big drinker (he had a bar in his house.) Dork declined (loser.) Hottie took one so I did as well. Owner SLAMED his and got another and told us to catch up. I could tell where this was going. THANK GOD I grew up in a small town where there was nothing to do but drink beer. I can drink beer all night and not get drunk, so boom - I now have the advantage. The drunken frat boy challenge was on.
Dork realized he had to have a beer and took one. By the time he finished it Hottie and I were on number 3. Owner was on beer number 5. Hottie started checking his watch. HA! He had to go somewhere, I was totally blowin off CHOX for this interview, but knew he would understand. (I really am sorry Choxie.) Two more beers later Hottie had to go. HA! In your face bud. Dork asked for another beer (damn!). I knew I had to wait him out and I'd stay all night.
By beer number 7, dork had to leave (YES!). I was pretty buzzed. Owner boy said I was pretty cool to stay and drink with him, lets go watch TV. Ok, I've been here two hours now, blown off dinner plans, and still am working this guy. I've commited for the long haul, I had to stay.
Owner starts talking about how cool Hottie is. Starts comparing us two and saying how hard it is going to be for him to make a decision. I tell him Hottie will ruin his game when he's out looking for girls. I can be his wing man. Girls love gay guys, I've got hot friends, etc. I'm throwing every angle at him to pick me. Then asks if I want to get high with him.
Let me reinterate I HATE POT. But, I was commited, so I did.
I still didn't get the fucking room.
That is what you have to go through to find a place in San Francisco, and sometimes you still lose out.
So this interview yesterday with the gay guys. I dressed up. I took wine. I was charming and sweet and brought bank statments and letters of reference. I told funny stories about Texas and offered to paint the house. I did everything but sign over a kidney to get in there.
Today they invited me to move in.
You like me, Right now, you really like me!
Yes, I have been voted on the island. Now, I just have to wait for the pesky landload to approve my application and I'll be in.
Keep you fingers crossed.
XO
I think I've found a place to live.
Shhh...don't jinx it.
I meet these three very cool guys that share a house. Not just a flat, but a real single standing, two story house. It's in a prime location, it has a huge kitchen, and it's actually affordable. Two of the guys are a couple and share a room, and one basically lives with his boyfriend across the street. I don't care, I like them. They are my kinda people.
I met with them yesterday for an interview. Let me just tell you, interviewing with roommates to move in a house is like interviewing for a reality TV show. You have to make an impression. They have to remember who you are when you leave. There are 5000 people looking for affordable housing in this city, and 6 available afforable rooms. I keep running into the same people over and over again at interviews. We eye each other like dogs, about to fight over the last soup bone. It's crazy.
In the end, if you get rejected, it's like being voted off the island. You feel dumped. Why didn't these people like you? Whats wrong? Did your breath smell? Did you seem to eager? Did the other guy imply that you might be a dork? What? It's enough to make you refill your Xanyx perscription.
At one interview I stayed for 3 hours. There were three of us, 2 straight guys and me competing over one room in this KICK ASS house. The guy that owned it was straight, a banker, and a stoner, but had a big ass tv and the house was huge and in the best location in town. Now, if you know me, you know I HATE pot. I hate the smell, I hate the taste. I hate it. But, I was willing to live with a stoner for this house.
We'll call the guys Owner, Dork, and Hottie. Owner was cool and chill, Dork was well, a dork. Hottie was Italian, also a banker, and was wearing a suit. I showed up in t-shirt and jeans. I knew I had dork beat right off the bat. He was a whiner, and you could tell was a big cry baby. Hottie and I were sizing each other up. I knew he had the advantage since he was staight and worked in the same industry as Owner. I however, was willing to do anything to live in this house.
Owner offered us all a beer. I could tell from his stocked fridge he was a big drinker (he had a bar in his house.) Dork declined (loser.) Hottie took one so I did as well. Owner SLAMED his and got another and told us to catch up. I could tell where this was going. THANK GOD I grew up in a small town where there was nothing to do but drink beer. I can drink beer all night and not get drunk, so boom - I now have the advantage. The drunken frat boy challenge was on.
Dork realized he had to have a beer and took one. By the time he finished it Hottie and I were on number 3. Owner was on beer number 5. Hottie started checking his watch. HA! He had to go somewhere, I was totally blowin off CHOX for this interview, but knew he would understand. (I really am sorry Choxie.) Two more beers later Hottie had to go. HA! In your face bud. Dork asked for another beer (damn!). I knew I had to wait him out and I'd stay all night.
By beer number 7, dork had to leave (YES!). I was pretty buzzed. Owner boy said I was pretty cool to stay and drink with him, lets go watch TV. Ok, I've been here two hours now, blown off dinner plans, and still am working this guy. I've commited for the long haul, I had to stay.
Owner starts talking about how cool Hottie is. Starts comparing us two and saying how hard it is going to be for him to make a decision. I tell him Hottie will ruin his game when he's out looking for girls. I can be his wing man. Girls love gay guys, I've got hot friends, etc. I'm throwing every angle at him to pick me. Then asks if I want to get high with him.
Let me reinterate I HATE POT. But, I was commited, so I did.
I still didn't get the fucking room.
That is what you have to go through to find a place in San Francisco, and sometimes you still lose out.
So this interview yesterday with the gay guys. I dressed up. I took wine. I was charming and sweet and brought bank statments and letters of reference. I told funny stories about Texas and offered to paint the house. I did everything but sign over a kidney to get in there.
Today they invited me to move in.
You like me, Right now, you really like me!
Yes, I have been voted on the island. Now, I just have to wait for the pesky landload to approve my application and I'll be in.
Keep you fingers crossed.
XO
posted by Kelicious at 10:56 AM
13 Comments:
Oh congratulations Honey! We're all so proud of you! We're going to throw you a big post-Oscar party. ;)
YAY!
But, Jebus! That is so fucking insane!
Stud! You go! Cook 'em up a feast. Can you have visitors? :-D
oh my f@%*-ing jesus halleluiah praise the blessings of the virgin mary!!!
How's that for invoking the divine?!?!
That's fantasmagorical!!!!!
Hey, Kel do you know what bank he worked. If he works for mine, I will make his life a living hell.
Now you can start enjoying the finer things the bay area has to offer without being stressed out about the crack house . YAY !!!!
Damn, I was nervous for you just reading about the interview!
So what color are you painting the house?
Congrats on the new place.
Congrats on the new pad. I'll bring the lasagna to the house warming.
Wow, you must give really good head. Congrats!
You did the impossible. You made me feel better about the NYC housing situation.
See? Even racists can find places to live in San Francisco!
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