Or Maybe a Rich Family Could Just Adopt Me

Well it looks like yet another chapter in the long and sordid James Catullo saga is coming to an end. The lease on the apartment I share with ever elusive Christoph and the ever drunken Joe runs out at the end of the month, which means it is time for me to bid adieu to our drafty apartment and move out on my own. That's right, I'm in the market for a new even more swinging bachelor pad and this time, since Joe and Christoph are moving back in with their parents, I'm going it alone. (This is, of course, unless anyone's in market for a roommate. I'm clean, quiet, a passable cook, and undeniably sexy. Seriously, I work out. So, any takers? Perhaps some young ladies want to take James home with them? Eh? Eh? Call me.)

Since I'm moving out all by my lonesome and lonesome can also describe how a dollar bill in my wallet might feel, I'm looking for an apartment which lets just say fits my economic profile. I need someplace cheap - very, very cheap. I'm primarily in the market for what is often called an efficiency room, but can be more romantically dubbed a studio apartment. This makes it sound like I'd be involved in such wonderful artistic endeavors such as painting, recording rock albums, or filming TV shows in my apartment. In reality, the apartment I eventually end up with will most likely fit the more dubious description of 'the tiny room where I eat my Ramen Noodles'. Now, that's Romance.

The weirdest part right now is looking at the apartments. Seriously, these places are so small it's hardly worth the time it takes to get there. Just today I looked at a place just four blocks from current apartment. It took me longer to walk there than to look at the place. The entire tour went something like this:

Possible Landlord: Well, That's one wall. And that's the other wall.
Me: Those are some fine walls.
PLL: Yep, mighty fine walls.
Me: You think if I lie down I can touch both those walls at once.
PLL: I reckon.

It was one of those converted attic apartments, where the walls slant up toward the center, so you can only stand up straight in the middle of the room. The bathroom was cramped. I don't think it would be possible for me to stand up when urinating, which is something I'm really big on. The refrigerator was tiny, not a huge problem since it would make it look like I have more food (my ketchup would fill it up pretty good). It had an oven so small I probably couldn't fit my head in it to put myself out of my misery. On the plus side the apartment featured not one but two creepy crawl spaces. You can't underestimate the power of the creepy crawl space. Remember if any place in a home is haunted, its the creepy places. I have two. So, I could be looking at two evil spirits intent on sucking me into their demonic dimension in my TV, instead of just one. So, I'd have that going for me.

Of course, I might not end up in that apartment. There are any number of crappy apartments I could live in. The cheaper the better. What, you're apartment only has three walls and it's not triangle shaped? Let me check that out. A badger may or may not have died in in one of the walls? You can't locate the smell? It's worth a look. Your apartments were built on an Indian burial ground, you say? Well bring it on, says I. I'd have to share a bathroom with Louie Anderson? Well...I do have my limits.

Shalom
James