Since my last post, my life has changed. "How?" you ask? 1) I no longer have a job (this is a good thing, I promise). 2) My hair has grown. 3) This blog is no longer devoted to chronicling the trials of ABC's latest bachelor or bachelorette.
Welcome to the new and improved "Bachelor Update." The bachelor is no longer Big Gay Bob, a soulless Jen, or a hot, but too short, Andrew Firestone. It is me, a real-life bachelor living through his mid-twenties in an urban playground.
Last week I resigned from my job. On my first day of freedom I locked myself out of my apartment in a bit of a hungover haze. Unfazed, I headed to the gym and sweat off the previous night's liquor much to the dismay of the elderly gent next to whom I was ellipticaling. When I returned home I was still unable to enter mi casa. Still un-annoyed (for those of you who know me well, I would usually have been damn annoyed by this point--but seeing as I had no obligation to speak of, I was calm and cool), I tried to break in via the fire escape. After scaling down a rusty ladder and cutting both my knees and a finger, my debut at breaking and entering was unsuccessful. So I decided to wait for my roommate on the stairs.
While sitting on the stairs, a neighbor I had never met came out with concern (she had seen my twice within the hour sitting on the steps, bored and sweaty from the gym). Although I refused her offer of chilling in her apartment, I did put my recently-purchased milk in her fridge. I then asked her about her roommate who I hadn't seen lately. She said, with obligatory smile, "Oh. That was my ex-husband." Sheepishly I said, "Um...I'm sorry. That was rude." She shrugged it off, but clearly I had scraped at a recently hardened scab of emotion. Funny, right? Well, the backstory is even better.
Back in August when I moved in, I soon realized I had a creepy neighbor. I caught him peeping in the windows across the air shaft, and his many glances soon warranted closed curtains. I deemed him the sketchy gay neighbor.
And now we know why the divorce occurred.
Anyway, I've realized I'm all about not working. If there is anyone out there who feels the need to pay me to watch the "Ellen DeGeneres Show," "Homes Across America," and other quality shows, feel free to drop me a line (or simply wire me money).
Until the next update, I'll be reading, sunning myself, and watching movies.
