Someone please smash my face open

A list of the shit I had to swallow today:

1) The knowledge that I spent thirteen hours on Sunday in the same bar drinking gins and tonic, leaving only to get music out of my car. That is what is known as a Churchillian Bender.

2) Yup, I got fucked on another apartment. I am still stuck in FUCKING ITHACA.

3) Theo Epstein resigned (funny, I never noticed how close that word is to re-signed...damn) as the General Manager of the Boston Red Sox, leaving the front office door wide open for some asshole to come in, ship the farm system off to Siberia, start spending money like Steinbrenner (high dollars, no yield), and generally fuck the Red Sox right up all over again. Just when I thought they were actually going to pull off an even bigger miracle than winning the World Series and become permanently ill-suited to the word "dysfunctional."

Let me just get something out of the way, accordingly: Congratulations to the 2006 World Champion New York Yankees. Just watch, and see how right I'm proven. I'll bet they beat the Cubs in 7 games. On a home run by Alex Rodriguez. In the ninth inning. With two outs. And the game will be played in New York because Derrek Lee made a crucial error in the All-Star game that allowed the American League to narrowly win the thing, securing their pennant winners' home-field advantage in the World Series.

Christ. I'm going to go bleed myself to death from my toenails.

4) I ain't asleep yet, and I'm something else bad will happen. Maybe I'll set my apartment on fire. Check back tomorrow to see if I tried to escape.

Good leapin' Jayzus.

Yeah, so I may have lost my apartment...again. My potential roommate's mother thinks I'm a bad risk since I don't have a job yet. Well, if I'm planning on working in a bar/restaurant, and it's impossible to get hired in that field if I'm not living in D.C., how the hell am I supposed to get a job? Doesn't it make sense to move, THEN start looking for a job? Am I CRAZY HERE?!!

Ahh, deep, cleansing breath... More emergency appeals to the parents for proof of financial backing, faxes confirming the rather impressive (for a 23-year-old) size of my investment portfolio and bank account...

I mean, I'm a rich kid, goddamnit. I'm a rich kid with an impressively underdeveloped sense of entitlement, but when you get down to it, I'm a rich kid - with an Ivy League degree - and apparently that's not enough to eliminate the possibility that I'm a bad credit risk when it comes to $600 a month in rent.

Fuck me, what a pain in the ass of a world we live in. I should have gone to grad school.

Hot damn, made it to Capitol Hill without even getting elected!

Well, readers, all five of you will be pleased to hear that the name of this blog will soon be changed, out of necessity, to "The D.C. Sessions," because I've found a place. When the Post Classifieds failed me, Craigslist was there. Took me all of four days to find a cool girl looking for a roommate, meet up, and agree to move in, probably starting on November 1st. Yeah!

So all of the last post's melancholy is now dissipated. Of course, that means I have very little motivation to keep writing at the moment.

One thing, though: do women not understand the meaning of a hand held in front of the chest with the palm facing in? Because for men, it's universally understood to mean, "Let's shake hands like the cool couple of platonic friends we are." My new roommate, upon my making that gesture as we were saying goodbye, interpreted it to mean, "Let's hug." Which was a little wierd, but not a big deal, so long as I didn't come off the same way through no fault of my own. All I'm saying is ladies, you've got to learn our gesticular vocabulary if we're ever to understand each other - but perhaps that would take some of the fun out of life.

Any comments on this point would be welcome.

One more thing: if any of you hate the Yankees, or just find it funny that someone would find it funny to compare a baseball team to the Nazis, check out my other blog: http://yankeesuberalles.blogspot.com.

Stalled

Go to D.C., get an apartment, get a job, start going to auditions, break into the theatre scene, get some professional credits on the old resume, go to New York/Grad School, be a professional actor. That's the plan. It's been very difficult to get it started, for a number of reasons. For example: it's goddamned hard to find a place in a major city, especially when you want to live in a particular neighborhood and pay a particular amount of money (Adams Morgan and less than $700 a month, respectively). Then when you do find a place, you can't even be sure of getting it, since leasing companies are either full of shit, or incompetent, or both. I don't have enough experience to know which of those descriptions is most aptly suited to the people that rented the apartment that I thought I'd gotten (in Adams Morgan, for $625 a month) to someone else after I should have had it.

Back to square one... living off savings and parental largesse in a college town whose streets look more pointless with each foot of them that I drive. That sensation isn't dulled by the fact that almost all of my friends here are Cornell students. We just spent the last five days drunk out of our minds, while I waited to get the official word on when I'd be moving in to my new place. Oops. Am I that dude now?

I don't want to be that dude. You know that dude. He hangs around the town where he went to school just a little bit too long, hitting on girls from college, going to college parties, drinking too much, waiting until he figures out that one bit of the meaning of life that's eluded him before he'll do anything that would actually help him figure it out. That dude's just lazy. And if I stay here much longer, I'll be him whether I like it or not.

Just hang on a few more weeks. Keep your head in the game, Dr. Chuck.