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Ohhhhh, Sydney not Sidney Poitier ... as in "Daughter Of" ... I'm an idiot.

I was gonna get into this whole thing about the Quentin Tarantino directed half of "Grindhouse", which is called "Death Proof." See, the posters have already started showing up around subway stations near you, and today on my way to work I read that Sydney Poitier was in it. And I thought to myself, "That's interesting, especially since it's impossible to think to anyone else." But, yeah, it's the daughter of the acting legend.

Anyway, this Grindhouse movie looks pretty sweet. I mean, not only does it have Rosario Dawson, who in my opinion is the hottest woman on the planet right now (she could be wearing a giant brick wall and she'd still make my pants tight), but it's got Rose McGowan ... with a machine gun for a leg.

I repeat: a machine gun for a LEG!

Moving on. I'm moving.

Look, I don't know what's going on, because we all need to sit around - the four of us - and lay it all out what the deal is. But, Jenny has already moved out and won't move back as long as Shawn's living downstairs. He's back, he's there, and there's nothing we can do because the pathetic owners of the building are spineless fucking pussies. So now Emily wants to move out, fine. Understandable. Whatever. Except they're the two people on the fucking lease. Again, whatever. That's how we've kept rent so low. Anyway, I'm not exactly sure what Jenny and Emily are planning on doing, but from the sound of it, they're talking about stiffing the owners of the last two months' worth of rent. Fine, that's their asses on the hook, I don't have a problem with that. Their rationale being: it would cost the owners more to sue than it's worth for the two months' rent. For some reason, I doubt they'd see it that way, but again, I'm not on the lease so this doesn't concern me.

What DOES concern me is that I'll need to be moving pretty fucking quick. And so it goes, little Stevie Taylor has to take off his training wheels.

Here's my understanding of the situation. We've paid through March. They have a thing in New York called a 72-Hour Notice of Eviction, which means I have the grace period plus 72 hours to get the fuck out of Dodge. So, on the safe side, I have until April 3rd.

Here are my options: With Jenny and Emily moving into a place together, and Liz moving somewhere with a friend of hers, I'm up the ol' shit fucking creek. I can stay here, find a roommate, and watch my rent skyrocket to $550 per month. As much as that burns my ass, that's about par for the course anywhere you go in New York. Like, as a minimum. Is it worth it to try and find a roommate just so I can avoid the hassle of moving? Well, there are things to consider on this one. Namely, I don't know how easy it's going to be to find a roommate, I don't know how easy it's going to be to find a reliable roommate who'll pay rent on time, and I don't know how easy it's going to be to find a roommate I get along with. Of course, I'll run into that problem in just about any situation I face, but in this case, it's my ass on the hook for the rent if I room with a degenerate. Besides all that, most of the stuff here isn't mine, and what the fuck do I need with all this space for just me and another person anyway? The apartment's falling apart as it is, plus I'd have to deal with the fucking owners personally. On the plus side, I wouldn't have to move, I'd finally have my own room, and I'd still have my park that I run around in the morning.

Or,

I can scour Craig's List for a deal. The listings are fucking inundated with these ads for:

$125 FURNISHED ROOMS AVAILABLE FOR RENT!! INTERNET INCLUDED!! (Manhattan/Bronx******************)

The $125 stands for $125 per week, and there are about five thousand of these listed every day. Meaning it's some company spamming the listings, and most likely these places are shitholes. The best legitimate deal I've found so far was a small room for $250 per month, and they e-mailed me back and told me they have a fucking cat.

Or,

Liz was telling me that you can go through a realtor. They find the place for you, and their fee is equal the first month's rent. Meaning, they find me a place for $600, then I have to pay $600 for the first month's rent AND $600 to the realtor, which I never see again. Sorry, but I think I can do my own leg work if it means I'm saving hundreds of dollars. I'll stow away in the fucking office before I pay that much.

So, how am I doing? Well, I'm pissed off, Rick! How are you?

But, what can I do, you know? I can't blame Jenny and Emily for wanting to be away from the crazy fucker downstairs and to rid themselves of the hassle of these dickhead owners.

This is what happens when you move out to New York City by yourself. Eventually, you've got to go out and make some fucking friends, otherwise you're left either living alone or living with strangers. Well, I don't make friends. That's not what I do. I spend the bulk of time by myself, and every so often I'll venture out to talk to someone. Because I don't like people. That's the bottom line. Most of the people, in the world, who I don't know: I don't WANT to know. Most people are assholes! Most people are mindless drones who do nothing but complain, or whine, or lay around feeling sorry for themselves. Most people bitch about other people who piss them off, ALL the TIME. And most people will ultimately let you down if you give them a chance.

I don't need much; a bed, heat, some Internet, I'm dandy. What do I want? I want to stay where I am, with the people I live with now, in a perfect world where there's no asshole downstairs and owners who are accommodating to tenants' needs. But, we all know what this world's really made of.