(Future) Jersey City Madwoman Writes an Open Letter to Republicans

After looking at about 9 apartments, we found one. close to my train, good deal on parking, good-sized kitchen, cheaper than my rent now. Everybody's happy. And the moving process starts a month from today ... time to start cleaning and packing, find a mover and philosophise some more about furniture!

If you have been paying attention to the news the last couple of days, you heard that all around the country, groups of angry white men protested wasteful government spending and raising the taxes of people much richer than they are by shoving their testicles in the face of the president.

Oh wait, they weren't actually "teabagging" the White House? Maybe irony isn't dead after all.

Dear crazed right-wing reactionaries and their moderate Republican bretheren:
You know this "real America" you love to talk about? We're, on the whole, rational people. We know you're mad as hell and can't take it anymore, but silly publicity stunts do not win over anyone who doesn't already agree with you. Please stop arguing over whether Obama is a socialist or a fascist and offer a reasonable, well thought-out alternative — not a budget with no numbers on it or a fetching graphic representation of what a trillion dollars with it (though we'd advise that you present your catchy new idea in sound-bite form). See: Newt Gingrich's Contract With America. See also: Cindy Sheehan. Need I say more?



I had grand aspirations to go to bed early tonight, but sleep is so not happening right now. Earlier I happened to stumble onto MIT's OpenCourseWare, where you can read lecture notes from classes throughout MIT for free. So if you happen to have a lingering curiosity about, say, urban planning or the principles of pharmacology, that's the place to be.

Blogging FAIL

OK, so I've pretty much given up on this blog for the time being. Blogging is one of those things I go through phases with, so I'll probably start up again at some point. In the meantime, you can follow my Twitter feed, which I'm only marginally better at updating. I'd really like to start a blog that's more topical. There's just something face-slappingly, why-didn't-I-think-of-that appealing about starting something seemingly inane that, just for a moment, brushes up against the cultural zeitgeist. And then there is the fact that I really should spend more time doing the things I've been telling myself I should do, like taking up yoga, cooking more or decorating the apartment that I'm moving into with alex in Jersey City.

Yes. I'm moving again. This time, with a boy.

Jersey City, because it's cheaper than Hoboken, and parking is within the realm of the possible. And I can still take the train to work and get there faster than I would living in most parts of manhattan. But more on that after we sign the papers for the apartment, since I don't want to jinx anything.

On second thought, you may hear from me again soon. Moving is a pain, and blogging is a nice antidote, or a distraction at least.

Apartment Love

Welcome to Hoty Takes Manhattan ... live from New Jersey!

I'm finally in my new apartment. Actually, the movers are still unloading my stuff. I never know what to do with myself when movers come; I feel weird sitting around and watching them do all the work (of course, for $100 an hour plus tips I don't feel *that guilty.

I think this the best decision I made since I moved out here. Seriously. Come see my apartment. It's GORGEOUS.

I'm so happy right now I could almost cry — though that might have something to do with the 3 hours of sleep I got last night.

duct tape

So the movers are here and they just did something that totally blew my mind ... they used a roll of duct tape (with the tape rolled on the outside) as a door stop.

Didn't want to forget that one.

The tyranny of stuff. And creepy voicemails.

Moving is a process that makes you acutely aware of the sheer amount of stuff you have.

The thing about stuff is that at one point or another, the stuff you have inevitably becomes the stuff you need to get rid of.
Unless you die. Then that stuff becomes someone else's problem. And that's an even bigger problem, because some stuff has a lot of emotional significance, and when you die and leave someone else your stuff, some of that emotional significance gets passed on with it.

Why do we put so much emotional stock in stuff? Specifically, furniture.

The Times ran a piece that did some time on the most e-mailed list about the perils of inheriting furniture. Oftentimes, you're stuck with it, because to a lot of people, the person from whom you got the furniture (or ugly portrait or whatever) lives on in that stuff, and getting rid of it would be like getting rid of *them*.

My herirloom furniture, which is pretty much all of it, was all wanted furniture (of good quality too), and I have so damn much of it that getting rid of a few things isn't cutting any one person's material memory out of my life. Also, it's kind of comforting having such a variety of passed-on stuff here. I've got stuff from both parents, both sets of grandparents, my sister, my house on menomonie street, hell, even my ex-boyfriend.

And that will still be the case after I downsize a little bit, but it's been kind of a struggle to prepare myself to get rid of a few things I won't have room to take with me when I move on tuesday. I'm still struggling with the economic guilt of essentially giving away some good stuff, but the flip side of that is on Craigslist there are plenty of other people in the same situation, so it *is* possible to get good stuff for cheap here.

And the fact that I'm blathering on about this is proof of my point. It's just stuff. Sentimental value is a social construction. Don't let it imprison you.

And another point: If you're moving here, bring as little as possible.
(That said, I wouldn't trade my living room furniture and big comfy bed for a teeny studio on the upper west side. I'm a midwestern girl and I need my space.)

Now that you've made it through that rant, you need to listen to this. A woman named Olga got hit on by a man named Dmitri. They talked for about two minutes, she gave him her business card (probably to get him to go away). These are the messages he left her.

It's most definitely not all good in the 'hood

When I got off the train after work there were a bunch of people (of the 20-something male variety) who looked like they were being chased up lenox avenue. One of them tried to run into a bodega but they locked him out. I'm not entirely sure what was up and I wasn't going to stick around and find out. (I did listen for gunfire and didn't hear any, thank god.) All of which sucked because I really wanted to go to the corner store and pick up some food but after that I was scared to leave the building. Man I'm glad I'm moving out of here.

Work on sundays is always a slog. Even though I don't have to stay until 1 a.m., and even though for me it's more like a thursday. And then I always say I'm going to go home and crash and then I get home and don't feel like sleeping.

So now that it's 2:46 a.m. and I'm still awake ...
Always check the page one last time before you send it to print or this will happen. Or, perhaps, this.

Also, if you've been living under a rock for the past 6 months (in which case I kind of envy you!) Here's the entire democratic primary in eight minutes.

ok I'm going to bed now. Foreals.

I have a mover

and it's only costing me $600. Recommended by stefania (aforementioned wise broker) and has pretty good online reviews, so hopefully all goes OK.

Today I went to the management office to get out of my lease. The guy said that because it's so easy to rent out an apartment in the city, there's no reason any landlord here should give you a hard time about getting out of a lease, other than to harass you.
And when I asked if they were going to take post-move-out cleaning costs out of my security deposit (my roommates from eau claire and I are down at least $150), he said, "that's not the way we do things."

There are some advantages to renting in the most brutally competitive market in the country.

Hot damn ...

Two summers ago I lived in Eau Claire and did manual labor for the Menards distribution center. There was a week or two when the temperature broke 100 degrees every day. The Menards warehouses are decidedly not air conditioned. Neither was my house. That was not a fun summer.

So I'm trying to keep a little perspective ... but damn, it's hot in my apartment. I think tomorrow I am going to go out and buy 3 or 4 more fans so I don't have to keep moving my one broken one around with me. But only three more weeks and I'll have air conditioning.

Remember the guy who was banging on my floor because my neighbor was playing loud music all night and he thought it was me? I met him today. He says when he called the landlord to complain, the landlord said, "I really don't think it's coming from her apartment. She works for the New York Times." Apparently, journalists don't have loud parties.* The neighbor, incidentally, also works for the Times. Crazy. And he did apologize for banging on my floor. And I forgive him because he actually put forth the effort to complain. And the noise has since stopped.

Know what I realized today? Once I move, my new place will be the fifth place I've lived (like, for more than a month) this year. And the third state.

*LG, are you reading this??

Home Sweet Hoboken!

I signed a lease Thursday, so I am officially moving to hoboken. Yay!
Next Step: Finding a mover.

Update

While I was furiously posting the previous rant, I got a call from my management company about a whole bunch of places that they're showing in Brooklyn in my price range. No broker fees and they can just transfer my security deposit over. So that lowers the panic level a little.

waiting ...

On Sunday I looked at my first apartment, in hoboken. The place, for $65 a month less than I'm paying now, is roomier than my current place even considering that there's another person living there (who seems quite nice). And the building is super-close to everything I would need (ie, the train to manhattan). So yesterday, not having seen any other ones, I went to the management office, dropped $75 and applied for it.

So now I wait.

Apparently, some management companies actually, like, do background checks.
Note to my current and former bosses and landlords: Please say something nice :o)

On the other hand, do I really *want* to move there?
I love hoboken, it's an adorable town, about 2 miles square, with lots of bars and shops and restaurants and a few lovely organic grocery stores. And it's cheaper than manhattan — and closer to most of it than I am now.

But there's still the nagging, somewhat illogical voice in my head that says why are you moving to JERSEY??? Also, the fact (for those of you not up on this, as I'm keeping it off the record*) that I'm dating someone there. Have been for about two months now. Most definitely not long enough on which to make a geographical decision, even in New York. He doesn't believe me when I say this, but the fact that he lives there is not part of my decision to move there except that had it not been for him I never probably would have seen hoboken in the first place.

Oh, and also, there's the fact that I put in 30 days notice to my current landlords and have to be out by July 1.

I think there needs to be some kind of bureau of housing counseling in the city. I could really use some assistance from someone knowledgeable who doesn't stand to make huge amounts of money off me. Seriously, New Yorkers spend more time, money and energy thinking and talking about housing and neighborhoods and apartments and gentrification and rent than anyone else in the damn country or possibly the world. With the possible exception of people whose houses have been foreclosed on them. And they have an excuse.


*To protect the innocent, and the not-so-innocent, this is NOT a dating blog. All personal details are off the record.

Update

The property manager called me today and said he'd let me out of my lease, so that's half the battle (OK, more like an eighth of the battle). Also, I just e-mailed him a random question (at 10:30 at night) and he got right back to me. I reserve the right to rescind this judgment if they pull one over on me in the end, but I heart my management company ... it's too bad most of their properties are in upper manhattan (if you ever want to move in that direction, let me know and I'll hook you up. It's not all as scary as central harlem has been of late.)

So for now I'm Craigslisting it in Hoboken ... I sent out 7 replies tonight. Wish me luck.

Oh, and yes, you are going to hear all the details of my apartment search. Because, unless you live here or are my mother, you just don't understand. But as a wise apartment broker once said, it is what it is.

Places I've Been: Yum Yum Bangkok

Welcome to the latest sporadic feature of Hoty Takes Manhattan: Places I've Been, in which I chronicle clubs, restaurants and such. This is just as much for my benefit as for yours, since there are so many amazing places in the city it's easy to forget where they are.

Yum Yum Bangkok, on 9th Ave. at 46th St. (Midtown/Hell's Kitchen), is actually three restaurants built next to one another, called Yum Yum Bangkok 1, 2 and 3. Which makes it pretty damn confusing if you're trying to meet someone at one of them. (I've been to 1 and 3.) They serve the same food, though I think they all have separate kitchens. I paid $8.95 for pad thai there; you can order a massive prix fixe meal for $15.95. Rumor has it they have good Thai tea there. And Thai beer, naturally.

Restaurant-wise, you can't go wrong in Hell's Kitchen. Just start at 42nd street and walk uptown until you find something to your liking.


Oh, and by the way, there were four other unrelated shootings in Harlem Monday night — one guy was shot three times allegedly because he bumped into someone on the sidewalk. Oh, and the Marcus Garvey Park shooters are still at large. So yeah, I'm getting the hell out of here, that's not a question. But man, it's going to be a pain. An expensive pain. This is a lot of shit to deal with all by myself.

Harlem is Burning ...

Well not quite. But eight people, most of them teenagers, got shot a few blocks from here Monday night, just a few minutes before I got off the train from work. Which is a sign, I think, that it's time for me to move the hell out of this neighborhood.

What to do next I'm not sure. Hoboken is right across the river in jersey, it's a little cheaper and it's adorable so I'm looking into moving there. Though I'd gladly move to the upper west side or of course to the east village if I could afford it. I would really like to live with someone else but subletting is going to be hard because I'm kind of a prisoner of my furniture. So if any New Yorkers/Jerseyites are reading this and looking for a fun, responsible roommate with a full apartment's worth of furniture, give a girl a holler.