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The Finer Points of Life

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Cracking the Craigslist code

All this time away from blogging leaves me with a laundry list of things I need to discuss with you guys, but before I can do that I need to get a good, old-fashioned rant off my chest.

I don't know about you, but I looooove me a solid, soul-cleansing bout of bitching.

The topic today? Apartment hunting on Craigslist. Uhhhh, hmmmmm. Where do I even begin? Well, let's kick this thing off on a positive note:

To every realtor on Craigslist, you deserve to win the Pulitzer Prize for your creative use of vocabulary. Do they give away a Webster's Thesaurus with your license? I've never seen so many colorful synonyms and adjectives used in postings that all mean the exact same thing.
Since I'm wicked smart with my various degrees in English (and yet seemingly incapable of writing a blog post without glaring grammatical errors), allow me to translate for you:

• "cozy" = small and crappy
• "charming" = old and crappy
• "quaint"= ghetto and crappy
• "very cute" = super crappy

I'm on to you, Craigslist. I've tapped into your secret code and I know the truth. I've quickly realized that you've written these listings with such poetic license, they should be read aloud by a girl with dreadlocks and unshaved armpits who hates her father in some beatnik cafe under a bridge in Brooklyn. For instance, your use of the word "near" is quite vague. How can an apartment 10 miles outside of the city be "near all the action of the Red Sox Nation". So apparently, being "near" Fenway Park means turning on your HD TV to ESPN and tuning into that night's game from your living room. Gotcha.

I also learned long, long ago never to look at a Craigslist apartment that didn't include pictures. If you only show me pictures of the street or the front door, we have problems. If you tell me it has "great closet space" and a "fabulous, modern kitchen" then SHOW ME THEM. Otherwise, I'm going to call you a liar, liar pants on fire.

However, there is a flip side to this coin when you show photos of your property for rent (you know, that transaction where you expect people to give you their hard-earned dollars in exchange for a suitable place to live). For the love of all things holy, clean. your. shithole. apartment. up. first.

Ladies and Gentlemen, enter Exhibit A:

Oh, my what a beautiful kitchen you have here! Look at all the counter space! I mean, I think that's a counter under there. Wait, no sorry that's a giant cockroach. Would you mind killing it with the leftover pizza box or one of the dirty pans in the sink? I prefer living alone. Thanks!

Oh just wait, it gets better:

Great! I've always wanted an apartment without closet space! Do you think the current tenant would mind leaving that picture of Justin Bieber she has hanging on the wall above her bed? Those yellow heart stickers are the perfect art statement. I've been collecting them for years.

aaaaaand then there's Exhibit C:

Did you tie that giant red Christmas ribbon on the refrigerator door just for me?! Even though it's April? Awwwww, you shouldn't have. You've already done so much with the place. I just love the avant garde feeling of your shit being strewn all over this tiny living room.

and last, but certainly not least:

No no, don't worry friend. I understand how tricky bed-making can be sometimes. I actually like how you have the sheets thrown back revealing a bit of drool on the mattress, it's a nice touch. Really. How long did it take you to arrange the pillow like that so it's half on the bed and half on the wall? Very interesting indeed.

Seriously.

Need I even say more?

Welcome Back!

EDITOR'S NOTE: Errrrrrr, not sure what happened with my header? Apologies. Please close your eyes and picture me while you read. In case you forget, I look just like Marissa Miller.

Greetings from the beyond the computer! How's it hangin?

If this were happening in real life, I would run into a busy Starbucks to meet you, dump a nip (or two) of Bailey's into my coffee, and launch into an exhausting diatribe of what I've been up to for the past month. By the time I finish an hour later, you'd be bored and I'd be drunk. And no one wants that. (Well, maybe I do)

Instead I'll give you the Cliffs Notes version of my life in the past month:

• still engaged. still wedding planning. post coming on that later this week
• didn't kill anyone in my Grad program during finals. (small miracle)
• I yelled at some guy on the T yesterday. 1 week back in Boston and I'm already a Masshole again.
• cried tears of joy while grocery shopping at Trader Joe's for the first time in a year, which was quickly followed by tears of sadness as I finished my trip at Whole Foods and kissed my new American dollars goodbye.
• started working. Hello, productivity! Being a contributing member of society sure does look good on you!

I've got a list of things I want to chat about, but all in good time. I also need to make some major cosmetic changes to the blog. I'm in conversations about it with my blog designing duo of RV Designs who have done my layouts in the past, but it will take some time. Rachel's kind of busy having a baby and Victoria's determined that I need to switch my entire blog from Blogger to Wordpress because as she says, "I'm Big League". (Although my bank account and Google Analytics beg to differ.)

The thought of going self-hosted and switching platforms makes me break out in hives. What if Wordpress loses all my old posts? What if I lose followers (all 7 of them)? What if it doesn't let me type in random, fragmented sentences? WHAT IF IT DOESN'T LIKE CHOCOLATE AND TEQUILA?!

Oh God. I'm hyperventilating.

HELPPPPP! Have you made the switch? Does your new platform accept your love for whining and wine?