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real estate ain't simple
Monday, August 6 2001
If I thought this real estate transaction, the one where I unload my West Los Angeles condo, was going to be easy, I was terribly mistaken. The people buying it are unusually fussy about things, submitting preposterous lists of demands such as "the garbage disposal needs to be replaced" (but why? - it works!) and "the plastic exhaust pipe for the dryer is not up to code" (oh yeah, but how about it being up your ass?). The more expensive complaints concerned the slope of the porch and the "unsafe" nature of the front stoop, both things which, taken together, they've provided me a $5000 estimate to fix. I'm so sick of dealing with this stuff that today I acquiesced to their Dan Reitmanesque demands. Five thousand dollars gone, just like that! During my lunch stroll through Chelsea, I dealt with my sense of loss by going shopping, buying a nifty Logitech optical mouse with force feedback. I'm so fucking sick of losing control of my mouse to erratic chunks of dingleberry, booger, food, and sloughed-off skin that I've decided I qualify for this particular luxury.
After work Gretchen and I went to a nearby pool hall on Flatbush Avenue on a mission to play some air hockey (this was entirely Gretchen's idea). We got to the pool hall and suddenly realized that they don't sell beer. One of the guys behind the counter suggested that if we wanted to drink beer we just go buy some from a nearby store and drink it, no problem (despite a big sign which read, in bright red letters, "Absolutely No Alcoholic Beverages" right beside another that read "Absolutely No Hanging Out"). While we were buying a six pack of Molson Ice, Gretchen also picked up a bag of doggie treats. On the way back into the pool hall, she gave the treats and a dollar to a homeless woman and her dog who were hanging out in front of a subway stop. Gretchen knows the woman and constitutes, it would be fair to say, part of her support network. I imagine all "successful" homeless people have networks of supporters who frequently pass through their favorite panhandling spots. It's easier that way; these people know the person and the story and are already sold on it.
Most of my air hockey experience came from playing a virtual version ("Shufflepuck Café") on my old Macintosh SE back in 1990, but still I managed to beat Gretchen in four out of five games. In air hockey the recipe for success is 90% raw strength and 10% accuracy. The trick is to take control of the puck and bang away at an opponent repeatedly until a score is made.
Raw strength isn't nearly as important in pool, of course. When we went to play a round of that game, Gretchen started out thoroughly kicking my ass. But I rallied near the end and fell, as I am wont to do, to a scratch while targeting the eight ball. Isn't pool fascinating?
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