Friday, April 22

So I'm going to have my snazzy three-stories-with-a-backyard-and-a-basement Center City house all to myself this summer for $450/month, utilities included.

Of course, the landlord's going to be remodeling it while I'm living there, so at different points during the summer I will be without roof, front wall, sink, staircases, bathtub, cabinets, cooking gas, and/or furniture. Also, there's no lease, so he can kick me out whenever he wants.

From what I understand based on previous experiences with Philadelphia rentals, this is still a pretty good deal. I mean, it's been almost a whole year in this place, and not even one person has ever demanded that I Call the Philadelphia Housing Authorities and Have This Criminally Negligent Landlord Arrested For The Good Of Society If I Have Any Sense of Justice For God's Sake like they did on an almost-weekly basis at my last lil' hovel. Ah, memories.

Wednesday, April 20

"Hello, Milt? Hi, this is Jaime, your renter? We were going to meet this week to talk about next month? ..Uh huh. Listen, I just wanted to apologize for calling you and hanging up last night, and then calling again and swearing into the pay phone.. uh huh..

"No, see, I had walked up to take the Susquehanna stop home instead of Cecil B. because I heard it was closer to the music building.. uh huh, that's right, pretty far north.. and I was standing at the pay phone calling you.. right, I told you about losing that cell phone, didn't I, that's why I haven't called you back until now.

"So I was dialing, and then there was this huge, loud boom-noise followed by a lot of honking and about twenty-five kids driving by on four-wheelers, and I knew I'd never be able to hear myself talk.. and then when I called back I couldn't hear anything because of all the police cars driving by. I mean, like, SO MANY COPS.

"..Yeah, so apparently? That loud noise was somebody getting shot across the street from me. Yeah, for real.. No, I didn't, I was facing away, toward the pay phone... Yep. Uh huh. In broad daylight on the busiest street in town... No, I dunno what happened really, I looked for it on the news, but apparently shootings in North Philly aren't newsworthy anymore. It was hard to see through the crowd...

"Uh huh.. uh huh.. yeah, I've been thinking about that.. yeah, just some white privileged collegiate brat from out of town, only wandering around in the poor black neighborhood because it's convenient to a subway stop.. Yeah, like I can sort of just go home and forget about it, you know? No, shit like that definitely doesn't go down in Nebrask- oh, sorry, excuse my language.. Uh huh.

"Yeah, and it was like.. yeah, I had this, like, weird, almost.. resentment thing going towards people as they got on the bus, you know, like as you go farther south and the clothes get more expensive and the bodies get all personal-trainered and the hair gets bleached and the fancy cell phone PDA things come out. I dunno.. I know, complete hypocrite, right.. I dunno, the whole thing is sort of weird.. I don't know why I'm telling you about all this..

"Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for coming off as a little disoriented on the phone. I thought the neighborhood was always like that, actually. Loud, I mean... I dunno, I dunno, maybe.. Yeah, like sometimes you think 'maybe I'm just overreacting, maybe it's some kind of weird prejudice on my part that I think I'm not safe in this neighborhood' or whatever, and then somebody gets shot right there across the street from you and then you don't know what you're supposed to think anymore... Yeah, everywhere really, that's true, it's too hard to go through life thinking about all the different possible ways and places you could be in danger, at least for me.. I dunno.. I haven't finished thinking about it.

"No, like I said, I didn't hear. I hope he's okay.

"Uh huh, you too. Okay. See you Friday, then. Uh huh. Okay. Bye-bye."

Monday, April 18

From the TMI department:

Philadelphia sent her love again last night, this time in form of totally random noxious skunky sewer-fumes pouring into my happy home. Her brief but memorable gift of wafting stank arrived just as several dinner guests (two of whom I was meeting for the first time) were sitting down to my long-slaved-over culinary masterpieces.

Nothing breaks that conversational ice like speculation over whether a pile of mice are buried under the couch. Did you know?

Ryan: "Okay, for real, I'm not leaving because your house stinks, I'm just leaving because I have to work in the morning."

Me: "Oh, God. Why does this have to happen when I have houseguests? Now your friends are all going to think of me as that Girl With The House That Smells Like Turds Are Cooking On The Lamps."

Ryan: "I wouldn't say 'turds cooking.' More like 'cooked turds.' "

Me: "Oh, God, oh God. Okay, all of you, get out, I have to tear up the carpet or something."

Ryan: "I could go home and bring back my Bible and we could do an exorcism. That would be a fun party game. Maybe go up to CVS and get a little crucifix and some oil."

Me: "Hey, that's not so bad, so an evil spirit died under the couch? I can handle that, at least it's not more of those fucking mice."

Jason: "I'd just like you to know that at no point did I come into your house and leave turds under your rug."

Me: "It's the little things like that that make our relationship work so well, you know."