To The East Side

I’m taking a break from moving to bootleg some wireless, check up on news, write this post, then go to sleep. The heavy stuff has all been moved, as has most of my computer gear. All that’s left is some junk I need to sort through or throw, which I’ll do tomorrow AM before heading for church (I worship at “El Burrito Loco: Authentic Mexican Cuisine” for Sunday lunch). I’m happy to report that I get really good wireless reception here, from the seven APs that OS X has picked up so-far, including the hilariously titled “Suck My Cunt” network. That said, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t do it over again if I had the choice.

Allow me some backstory:

Back in August, I left the horrors of Star Properties, to live in a run-down hole of a boarding house for $275/mo. I can easily deal with better-than-luxury squat conditions, particularly when there is no fear of eviction or arrest. However, about 2 months after I moved in, Star bought the property I was living in. Last month, they announced they were going to tear it down and put up another of their god-awful tan-n-grey rich-kid paradises (it is literally across the street from the center of the University’s campus).

At first, they attempted to hustle everyone into getting out of the building by lying. They said the building was condemened by the city (which came as news to the city). They said they could simply throw us out on the street if they wished (except we all had leases). I explained that it was neither moral nor legal to do such things, and the meeting (with six of us) devolved from there. It was interesting to watch the landlord’s hireling’s reaction to the meeting, namely his nearly tearful collapse when faced with six angry tenants and his own inability to remember that it doesn’t matter if he can keep the lies told to each person straight, as we’re all hearing all of them. Eventually he was spent and we were asked to individually meet the Grand Overlord. My meeting was particularly interesting, namely because he was experienced enough to understand that talking fast is generally taken to mean “dishonest.” He mentioned that the move would be into a freshly cleaned apartment, ostensibly a reference to the dumpster posing as my old place, which I took as a pitiful attempt to scare me: “gasp, the landlord knows my room is a mess.” It’s too bad I’m not black, as at least one common Afro-American axiom sums my response perfectly.

After several more meetings, I gave them what they wanted (my absence by tomorrow evening) in exchange for a three-bedroom apt for myself and possible one other person, at the same cost w/ utilities. But after blowing my whole Saturday prepping and moving, suffering the sweat headaches, and remembering that I’m going to have to do this all over again in three months, I’m starting to regret the decision. Right now, I wish I had simply told them to kiss my ass rather than feighing greediness. Oh well, lesson learned.

I also figured out that I need a new job, in a city somewhere, ideally the Chi. Bottom line is that it needs to be somewhere I can bike or walk to: being out of shape really sucks ass.