The Cake Boss said that he pictures me living in South Park. Apparently, it’s where hipsters go to get married and have dogs. So what he’s saying is… he thinks I’m hip, he wants to marry me, and possibly raise an English bulldog together. Did anyone else get that???
This is only my second time apartment-hunting. Last year, Pammie told me, “Whatever you do, don’t sign anything.” And what did I do? First apartment I saw, I signed a lease. It was like that one time she said, “Whatever you do, don’t close the garage.” And what did I do? I walked straight to the garage, hit the garage door opener, and closed the garage on her car. It’s like I heard everything but the “don’t” part. Anyway, I was locked into a year lease with a beautiful apartment that cost entirely too much money. I knew people renting 2-bedrooms for cheaper than what I was paying for my single. There were times when I would make spaghetti and eat it for five days straight—I’m exaggerating zero percent. It was like I was in Café World and I had whipped up too many servings, except there were no café points earned from eating all that spaghetti—just carbs. I’m on Craiglist everyday, and I’ve learned that listings with the words “charming,” “section 8 approved,” and/or “drive by first and then call” are generally no bueno. Finding a nice, cheap apartment in SD is hard these days. I guess it doesn’t help that I’m partial to granite countertops, crown moulding, stainless steel appliances and hardwood floors. Hey, I can’t help it if my modern espresso furniture refuses to coexist with wall-to-wall carpeting.