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skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com

Thursday, 11 October
Body Movin'

And so it was that we signed the papers on a new apartment. We can start moving in any time after the 16th, having parted with several thousand dollars. We don't mind.

Because this apartment . . . is magnificent.

We still can't quite believe it. It's a couple hundred more than we were already paying, but when you factor in certain costs we incur at this place and compare it to this other place . . . it's like finding out that your rent is being raised by fifty bucks, but they're also adding on a new wing.

Let me try to summarize.

It has a wood fireplace. (It also has reg'lar heating, which is by all description awesome and cheap and not baseboard.)
It has an outside deck, on the lower level.
Oh, did I mention that? It has a lower level, where the two bedrooms are, each with their own bathrooms.
Oh, right! It has two and a half bathrooms; there's a half-bath upstairs.
It has a washer and dryer in the unit.
They happen to be in their own room, too. That would be the laundry room, the one with shelving.
It's next to the gigantic closet with the gigantic water heater that appears to contain enough water to scald a regiment of war-filthed Hessians.
The kitchen has a dedicated hot-water dispenser, which is, according to the owner, "great for tea." You know, fuck tea, but that's sort of awesome.
It includes a covered, secure parking spot.
And finally, one of the sinks has an adorable floral motif.

Holy fuck.

What we don't have is a view. You know what? Fuck views. Like I'm going to spend my evenings staring wistfully out my windows anyway. I would barely care if the place had no windows at all. We could open a casino. We look out into the surrounding greenery anyway, so it's not like there's derelict mimes taking a shit out there 24/7. That's a lot more interesting than watching rich douches sailing around Lake Union any day. (The greenery, that is. There are hydrangeas out there, not defecating buskers. But we can always recruit.)

The living room is the size of Delaware; we're going to have to buy a bunch of crap from Crate and Barrel just to prevent unpleasant echo effects when we speak. When I opened one of the kitchen cabinets, Henry Kissinger was in there. He hissed, "Leave me be! I come here to practice necromancy! You don't need the space! What will you put in here? A box of cereal as large as a toilet? Go! Go! Here is one thousand dollars." Fine with me, war criminal. Your money spends just like anyone else's. We'll never use up this absurd cabinet space.

It has a Brinks security system, for God's sake. I mean, it's not active or anything, but the owner told us we were free to fire it up. It's kind of tempting in a stupid way, just so I could show off to my friends. "Hold on, I have to deactivate the SECURITY SYSTEM." But then I'd feel pretty lame when my friends noticed that I was paying to protect my embarrassingly large collection of graphic novels, so.

THIEF: "Sucker! No security system at all! Sweet!"

(Thief looks around.)

THIEF: "30 Days of Night: Featuring Linus from Peanuts? I hate my job."

I might have forgotten to mention the helipad and the wild game preserve. The helipad will come in handy when my good friend Richard Branson stops by to insult my shoes and fuck expensive whores in the spare bedroom; the wild game preserve will please me when I get my frequent urges to lope around shooting torpid jungle cats in the brain with a high-powered rifle.

If there's one downer about the place, it's the "No Gloryholes" wording in the lease. In a place with 2 1/2 bathrooms, you really want to drill some gloryholes.

Man, now I'm a little bummed. Branson is going to give me a lot of shit about this. He really loves anonymous blow jobs.

Note: Comments are closed on old entries.


it was awfully considerate of you to find a place that had not only a bedroom for me, but a bath as well! i'm really excited, and have started shipping my books to your old place so you can start moving them into the new one on the 16th. see you soon, roomie!

Comment number: 015458   Posted by: judith on October 12, 2007 02:44 AM from IP:

The place sounds supremely bueno, despite it's lack of opportunities for covert fellatio.

Comment number: 015459   Posted by: You can call me, 'Sir' on October 12, 2007 05:58 AM from IP:

you are a hott mess.

Comment number: 015460   Posted by: alyxmyself on October 12, 2007 09:36 AM from IP:

At the risk of sounding extremely naive...I just looked up "gloryhole," work.


That should nip my curiosity in the bud...

Comment number: 015461   Posted by: blu on October 12, 2007 09:46 AM from IP:


Comment number: 015462   Posted by: special k on October 12, 2007 10:17 AM from IP:

I can't get the picture of Henry Kissinger sitting in your cabinets out. of. my. head!!

Comment number: 015466   Posted by: Joan on October 12, 2007 12:56 PM from IP:

Hooray! Sounds fabulous... just the sort of luxe residence you and the missus deserve.

Without the old lady upstairs pelting the ducks with ice cubes.

Will you be able to install a wall of stone in one of the 2.5 bathrooms? Perhaps the waterfall in the wild game preserve will make up for that.

Looking forward to the housewarming party. (Since I'm obviously not going to volunteer to help you move)

Comment number: 015497   Posted by: Suzanne on October 13, 2007 01:10 PM from IP:

That bit in the Constitution preventing citizens from being forced to provide quarters for war-filthed Hessians seems to be just about the only part that's still in force, but still it never hurts to plan ahead.

As far as defecating buskers, talk to me again when the weather warms up. My rates are very reasonable and I know pretty much the whole catalog of songs by the Eagles.

Comment number: 015508   Posted by: flamingbanjo on October 14, 2007 09:51 AM from IP:

Sounds fabu. When can I expect my invite to the housewarming? I will bring my own gin.

Comment number: 015509   Posted by: sibyld on October 14, 2007 11:32 AM from IP:

So happy for you Skot!

Comment number: 015518   Posted by: Jenny on October 15, 2007 08:19 PM from IP:

"great for tea." You know, fuck tea, but that's sort of awesome.


Uhsolicited advice (the very best kind!): this spigot comes in handy for pasta, when you're so hungry you think you'll pull your own eye out and eat it* while you wait for the big pot of water to come to a ferocious boil. Using the burning-hot tap to fill your pot cuts down the waiting-and-cursing time by as much as half, and speeds you straight through to the dining-and-cursing period.

It's also super funny when you forget it's the scalding-hot faucet and just run your fingers under it to rinse off your hands. That's clean --- autoclave clean!

Congratulations to you both!

*Don't bother --- it'll stop the pangs, but it's a nutritional loss, considering the calories you burn in the healing process.

Comment number: 015527   Posted by: Elsa on October 16, 2007 01:26 PM from IP:

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