Questionable Rants and Raves

Fun Times at Chez Exile

Yesterday,  I got the phone call that I've been dreading since being told my house was on the market.  The house has been sold and I'm out on my ass.  Actually I have 30 days and then I'm out on my ass.  Hmmm...I  wonder if I can find a place in 30 days in a city where the vacancy rate is less than 5% or something insane like that?  Cut that in half if you have pets.
I've remained relatively calm about this whole thing.  In the old days I would have already been through a case of beer and working my way through a bottle of scotch.  Clearly the therapy is working.  Thanks JGH-money well spent.  I still can't talk to the WARDEN, but I can handle moving.   
I actually went out today and looked at a place.  It has everything I want and I don't feel like I'm getting bent over on the price.  Sorry to be so graphic, but honestly the real estate market here is a bigger scam than the market I work in.  I'm going to take it.  It has a washer and a dryer, a yard, and the block is filled with families-amazing how your priorities change when you get older.  I know I just bitched in the above paragraph about how hard it is to find a place to live here.  I guess I got lucky.  Who knows maybe giving that very pregnant woman my seat on the subway was a good thing.
To be honest I'm actually looking forward to a new place.  I love my current place-size and proximity to the golf course, but I need a change.  I have lived here for 4 years.  In those 4 years I've fallen in and out of love, laughed, cried, come unhinged, and put myself back together all in 900 square feet-big by NYC standards.  I haven't lived in a place that was solely mine since I lived in the building owned by the fireman in Chicago.  Miz B. I know you remember that place.  Fun times. 
So, I'm gonna pack up my books, CDs, and assorted other shit and start fresh.  When I get settled big party in the yard-come on over and bring your favorite canned beer.

I Finally Have A Goal

I finally know what I want to do when I grow up.  I want to open a bar with an indoor  miniature golf course complete with a windmill obstacle.  I was on the phone with Miz B. this morning and she actually came up with the plan-she is a genius.  She was asking me about work and as usual I was pissing and moaning about it.  I really shouldn't bitch -I work 5 hours a day.  Miz B. said she felt my true calling was to open up a bar with classic rock/karaoke in the front and a mini golf either in the back or in the basement.  If you can open a bar with indoor bocce ball (Union Hall-Park Slope) why can't you open one with a couple of holes of putt-putt?  If you get pegged with a bocce ball it is going to hurt far more than if you get dinged with a golf ball.  Thank you Miz B. for your guidance.  I now know what I want to do when I grow up.  One thing is for sure both of these sweet obstacles will be in my putt-putt course.  Do you think it is too soon for me to call the French version of Duke and Duke that I work for to tell them that I'm leaving and I will be cashing in my 401k ASAP?