Goodbye Southend (?)

You know the saying "things happen for a reason"? Well, I for one hate that saying. It just sounds like one of those things people mindlessly spurt when they can't think of anything better to say. These are incidentally the same people who cause on-looker delay, who just happen to be the exact same people who rush to the nearest Harris Teeter to buy up all the milk and bread as soon as the weather guy even hints at snow. People irk the hell out of me.

I've digressed.

So, last month I accompanied Tanner and Vincent on their quest for a house here in the Queen City (No, not Chicago… I'm talking about the Queen City actually named after a Queen; Charlotte, NC.) We visited several corners of the city and that trip in itself should have probably been a blog entry because it was so funny to me. Tanner and Vincent hail from Smalltown, USA and know very little about the ghettos and hoods found around these parts. So whenever they'd find "deals" on the West Side, I'd have to be the one to tell them that unless they were fully prepared to invest in some dank ass home security, then this probably wouldn't be wise. At any rate, the more we scoured the ville for an appropriate place to live, the more I kept seeing places that I myself would like to inhabit. Tanner, in his obvious reasoning, persisted in reminding me that I already had a roomate and couldn't just ditch him. Nigga, I know that. Even though, the move would probably have gone unnoticed by Claybo. That fool ain't ever home. I'd estimate that in the eight or so months that he's lived with me, that a collective three months has probably been spent elsewhere. I'm not even exaggerating. Some of my friends still haven't even seen him and some people even refer to him as my "roomate"… with the air quotes and everything. Nevertheless, my current living situation notwithstanding, I started to seriously consider breaking some kind of news to Claybo about me wanting to move out. The transition would go rather smoothly too, I would think, since it's the beginning of the year and all. Neither Tanner or Vincent were opposed to the idea and after a couple of days I think we all started to visualize each other as new roomates. Awww.

Cut to today.

So, I'm sittin' on the couch trying my damnedest to get this stupid wireless connection to work (LuLu net, whoever you may be, you need a stronger antennae. I lose your signal all the time and it takes forever to get it back. Jumpstart-P1-e227fd, fuck you.) since I'm so above paying for internet service anyway, ( Go on, judge me, say what you want, but Time Warner isn't getting anymore of my $60 a month for this. I'm about to get back in touch with my other cable guy soon anyway… but that's off the record. A black man stealing cable? I love perpetuating stereotypes) and my roomate walks through the door. OH, I forgot to tell you, he was gone for like, two weeks this time over the holidays and I gave up trying to guess when he'd come back. Anyway, he comes in and tells me that due to certain financial tribulations, he'd have to move out next month.

Say what?

I mean, I think it's a sign from above. I'm supposed to move out. Seriously, look at the circumstances:

• Tanner and Vincent are looking for a third roomate
  
• The people at Marsh Properties hate me and want me gone anyway
  
• I start working again tomorrow (I think)
  
• My roomate is moving back home for a while
  
• I've already been taking care of Tanner's dog (Crusis… whom I personally refer to as "Nickles" and "Croce" [kroh-cheh]), even taught the little son-of-a-bitch how to sit! I love that dog so damn much, you don't even know.
  
• And on top of that, I've actually gotten enough reasons to make a legit bulleted list about it. Can you believe that shit? I'm such a dork.
  

It's like God is saying "Dude, I'm lining this shit up for you. Just do it." There's really only one snag in all of this: I love where I live. Not really the actual apartment. The apartment itself gets on my nerves; busted heat, small, ancient stove, NO DISHWASHER, I repeat, NO DISHWASHER. That no dishwasher bullshit has been at the crux of my dislike for this place. I swear, as God is my witness I'll never go dishwasherless again. That shit is insanely annoying. It's even past the point of not washing dishes because you feel lazy about it. It's the principal of the whole thing. This is the mother fucking United States of America in the year 2008. Why the hell doesn't this place have a dishwasher? Digression… umm… YEAH. I really like the area. It's so close to cool stuff and it's right on the LYNX Lightrail line. That's on some straight up convenience type shit right tharr. The small glimmer of hope that I've forseen is Tanner and Vince (I make them sound like a gay couple, don't I?) getting a place in this neighbourhood, which isn't all that impossible. We'd have to start working on it now, though.

I'll keep you all abrest of things as they develop. Right now, I'm going to go into my living room and try, for the 6^th time, to clean house. I need to post this too… so LuLu net, don't play with me.