Saturday, November 27, 2010

Edmund, we all know your real name is Edmundo.

I set up a bunch of appointments to view places today.

The first place was interesting but not setup right for our furniture. It pissed me off. I should rephrase that: It made me piss. Literally, the landlord let me alone in the three floor townhouse and I took a much needed back tooth floating leak. As I prepared to let fly with the door open I envisioned a stranger who was also viewing the suite walking in and seeing me hose out a Grande Latte and I quickly closed the door. I took an application “just in case” and hit the road.

The second place looked like a dream in the ad. It turned… WOAH, HOLD THE PHONE!
I’m writing this while at dinner and I order Veracruz style Ocean Perch and they just set it down in front of me. Sweet Mary, mother of god… it still has it’s head. The sumbitch is looking at me. This is delicious damn food. Best salsa I’ve had and it’s spicy. Amazing. I love you Los Angeles. Ola Senor Fishy. Prepare to meet thy doom!

Alright, back to the apartment:
I called and set up an appointment with the landlord, Edmund. Crazy thick Mexican accent. Edmund, we all know your name is really Edmundo. So the place was not as it appeared in the ad. Slightly more worn and much smaller than I thought and after busting my balls about being on time, the landlord showed up late. The bedrooms were big but the living room area and such would make it a tight fit. I expressed this to the landlord Edmund. In retort he told me there was another, larger suite available. Me wanna see, Edmundo. VĂ¡monos!  muchacho!  The large apartment was well, large and $300/month more expensive. Let the haggling begin!!! By the time I left, I had talked him down in monthly rent, negotiated an 8 month lease and got him to skip the credit check. Hellz yeah. If nothing better shows up by noon tomorrow I’ll take the place and be done with this BS. It’s located right next to Vons and a mini-mall but there’s no real “walking” around the ‘hood. It’s right on top of the freeway and although you can’t hear it, it provides a certain noise when outside the apartment on the large and private rooftop balcony. As Edmundo told me, "There are beautiful ladies in bikinis who suntan next door". Way to sell, Amigo. In any case, Edmund was a righteous dude and very accommodating and the place was overall clean and large.

I then had the pleasure of viewing one dirty hacienda. I mean, this place made a gas station toilet look pristine. I rang the number and was greeted with Spanish which left me confused and decidedly Canadian.

“Ola senor, I’m calling about the place you have for rent on Hubbard.”
“Si, si you talk to my son. I get number.”
*phone goes dead*

I take a drive over to the address and my phone rings and it’s the person’s son that I had spoken to earlier. We arrange to meet 15 minutes later at the property. I figured a preliminary drive by would be a good idea. As I drove down the street my inner dialogue was as such as I viewed each house in turn:

“Good. Very good. No. Please god no.” and that pretty much landed me at the address.

It was pink. It was flakier than a granny’s heels. It had leaves all over the floor when I peered in the window. When Jose (his name, I shit you not) actually met me and took me in I almost turned and took off quicker than the Roadrunner. Here is my inner dialogue as I made my way from the front room through the narrow ass hallway and into the bedrooms and bathroom:

“What the shit? Did a hurricane hit here? Why are there so many leaves in here? Seriously, is this place really only 12 feet wide?  NO! This is the kitchen? This first bedroom is tiny it can’t be the master. Oh my god, there’s a cockroach in the fucking tub. This is the master? I’ll feign interest for Jose’s sake and then when I leave wash my hands in the nearest oil stained mud puddle.”

I may get my Hepatitis shot tomorrow.

So, in retrospect Edmundo’s place looks pretty damn nice right now. It’s about 10 mins from work on my bike if it’s can be ridden at all. Maybe a 15 min walk or so.  So like I said earlier, I take it unless a miracle transpires tomorrow morning.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering whether or not I’m dodging you all online… the server at the hotel is down aaaaaaand, this ocean perch was somewhat disappointing but I think this restaurant is probably  a hidden gem which just happens to not do fish that well. Maybe I just don’t like Ocean Perch. It tasted fresh but muddy. The corn tortillas rocked though.

I’m out!

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