So THAT’S why Roy’s not signing in Texas…
Today’s apartment search was a lot like reality television. Except uninsured. And I’m going to tell you about it in a minute. But to keep things relevant, I will show you the Onion’s rendition of the Roy Oswalt eye-roll marathon:
DALLAS—Sought-after free agent pitcher Roy Oswalt said he was “flattered and impressed” by the effort the Texas Rangers made in trying to sign him this week, but admitted he had no idea why the team made such a point of emphasizing the abundant, diverse, and thriving gay nightlife in Dallas.
“I know it’s traditional to tell a guy exactly how great the team is, and what a great city it is, and stuff like that,” said Oswalt, who returned to his home in Houston Thursday night after what he called a “stressful whirlwind tour” of the Rangers facilities and the city of Dallas proper. “And they did that, showed me around, but kept saying how Dallas had all kinds of people, and how they were pretty accepting, and no one was going to judge me, especially because I’d be a star there. I wasn’t really sure what the big idea was at first.”
Now back to me. What a bad day. It was like September, swirled inside four hours. With six hours of driving.
Seriously. While waiting on a property manager (who was twenty minutes late), I was approached by a guy in pajama pants (he says they’re $6) and a superman hat who said he was from Sudan… like Saddam Hussein, he said (um…). He opened the conversation by telling me how HIV free he was. And he should know, he said, he got tested at Duke University (I bet you did…). He tells me the apartments here are too expensive. But that he walks through the parking lot every day. Would I like a roommate?
Yep. And the second person I found said she was robbed at gunpoint… “but other than that, I love it here. You won’t get this much space for this little rent.”
And that place? 4 out of 5 safety stars.
Raleigh kicked my ass today.
The third apartment I looked at? Lady took my driver’s license. It’s something you have to do to show apartments. Except you’re supposed to give it back. She forgot she had it. Told me she had given it back to me. And that’s the story of how I have no driver’s license now. Was an extra-paranoid drive back to Boone today. Should get used to it since I won’t be able to get another driver’s license until I have proof of residency, address, etc in Raleigh.
I found a place. I did. But I keep second guessing. And third guessing. Why did I want to move again? I did confirm my membership in the Triangle Red Sox Nation meetup. That should cheer me up, right?
I got a fortune cookie today that said “The last choice is the best choice.”
Interesting because the apartment I chose WAS the last choice.
The Red Sox better hope my fortune cookie speaks the truth. Because at the rate we’re going, well… the last choice? It’s going to be the ONLY choice.
PS- SHUT UP, CURT.
And GO HOME, Manny Ramirez. Please pick the A’s. I don’t want you in my ALE.
Oh! And if you haven’t entered my super bowl pool yet- you should.