Pity Me!
You know what is not very fun? Moving to a new apartment. It is about as far from fun as you can get. Except for death maybe. Death is probably less fun than moving. And cancer. And other debilitating diseases. And pooping in your pants at your own wedding. Come to think of it, there are a lot of things less fun than moving. But I’m moving this week and since this site is all about me, let’s talk about moving.
I’m finally leaving my apartment in Chinatown. A lot of people knock Chinatown because it is crowded, often smells bad because of the fishmongers, and everyday products like toilet paper are hard to find. Well, add me to the list of those people. Sweet merciful Christ, I cannot wait to move out of my neighborhood. Not to mention my apartment, which is completely deficient in so many ways I’ve lost count. There was that time last winter when I was without heat for about a week. Then there was another time I was without heat for almost a week. Actually, that happened about half a dozen times last winter. Oh, I just thought of something less fun than moving: sleeping with a hat and gloves on and worrying that the tiny space heater you borrowed from your friend is going to start a fire that will kill you in your sleep. Yeah, that was not much fun.
My new apartment is in the West Village, where lots of models and celebrities live. Finally, I can be among my own people. I mean, sure I had lots of models and celebrities over at my converted one-bedroom apartment in Chinatown, but they were always complaining about it. One time at a cocktail party I was throwing, Bea Arthur started bitching about the location so much that I just hauled off and slapped her across the face. Cindy Crawford spit out her canape she was laughing so hard. Hmm. Those are the times I’ll miss. Abusing elderly celebrities for the amusement of former supermodels.
Then there was that time I pushed Betty White down the stairs to get a rise out of Naomi Campbell at my Christmas party last year. Man, that was fun. Betty was a pretty good sport about the whole thing. Now that I think of it, I should really send her flowers. All right, I’m getting a little misty now just thinking of all the fun I had in that apartment. I’ll miss you, overpriced one-bedroom…
