Chelsea Lately

Ran like hell through two Chelsea apartments at lunch with yet another broker who I thought was soooooooooooo awesome but will probably also take my dreams and beat them mercilessly into Manhattan Real Estate Market Submission. I still hate everything but what's up, Julio, you're pretty cool.

For now.

The good thing about Julio is that the moment I sat at his desk to discuss the apartments we were going to see, he told me the first one would be (IIRC) "grody." He was totally right. I think at one point it was white but now it's Helena Bonham Carter grey. The floors were some kind of dark .... something that was not wood. And was not in good condition. It was a fifth floor walk up and the windows looked out onto a brick wall and twisted, rusting metal work. I saw it in the driving rain but no amount of sunshine would have saved this. It was on 18th and 8th and just isn't going to happen.

Also, Julio, do not question my newfound power of internal square foot calculation by sight. That puppy was not 700 square feet, nor was it a "monster" one bedroom, at least in the sense you advertised. I'd give it 450 on a good day.

I found Julio on craigslist but we both conveniently forgot about this during our long talk about how finding apartments on craigslist sucks.

The second apartment on our run was at 17th and Irving and was beautiful. All new appliances, perfect hardwood floors (that will not last), cart blanche to paint it weird colors. But it was a bit small. It's on the high end of our price range but we can't live there anyway because it's around the corner from the Union Square Lush, which would be like housing an inveterate gambler at the Bellagio. My hair would look fabulous and I would always smell like flowers and fresh cut grass, but we would not be able to afford food. Ever.

For the record, my office is 14x9. It is substantially larger than most bedrooms in NY.

I'm going out tonight to see places on the UES with a guy who says his last name is "Lucky." I call shenanigans. If he ends up killing me in an alley and this is my last post (50/5o shot), much love to our three readers, Gweebles and my parents. Snorgles and cuddles to my cat.

I didn't even write back to the guy whose email name turned out to be "Mister Renter."

Tomorrow at lunch I am going to see a lux 1br in the Fidi only because it is a two minute walk from my office. They also claim 700 square feet, which seems to be the official measurement of Dudes Who Lie About Space.

PS Julio told me landlords hate renting to lawyers and reject them on false pretenses all the time. I should have been less surprised by this. Again, moron.