Thursday, October 10, 2002

I want to move. Pretty badly, actually. Why? Funny you should ask.
- Ingrid. There's no parking at my apartment building, so she is getting scraped up repeatedly by people who can't parallel park for shit and is no longer looking as pretty and sweet as she used to when I first brought her home. Not only that, I always have to consider the possibility that I may not find parking if I leave. So I basically I never go to the grocery store, and my diet of late has consisted of the few things in my immediate vicinity: Canter's, Nova Express, House of Thai Taste, Damiano's, Benito's Tacos, Max's, and Subway. And of course, Yummy, the new Pink Dot competitor.
- I think there is the remote possibility that the bathroom may collapse at any moment into the apartment downstairs. The whole floor in the bathroom is super warped, no doubt a side-effect from the amazing water pressure that the shower pumps out. Too bad I can't transfer some of that pressure to the toilet, which has NO pressure, meaning clogsville. All that water damage probably means that I'm slowly dying from mold poisoning too.
- While I'm on the subject of the apartment downstairs, let me mention the girl that lives there. I've never met this girl, much less seen her, but I can hear her sing and play guitar, and she is so much better than me that I have almost completely given up on playing and singing in my apartment. The few times that I do is usually preceeded by me crawling around on the floor making sure she's not home to hear me and laugh, or maybe i just get too drunk to care, which as you can well imagine, makes me suck even more.
- My commute sucks. It takes me something like 40 minutes to get to work, most of which is spent getting to the freeway. I hate Fairfax.

It's EXPENSIVE. Ok, maybe not THAT expensive, but more than I should be paying for a shitty one-bedroom with no parking and a toilet that won't flush anything bigger than a cigar without choking.