Moving On...

Holla,

Over the last several months, I've been crafting a top secret plan to move out of the ghetto. Days spent at the beach, Tuesdays at PB Bar and Grill, and the desire to take up permanent residence in the Silver Fox have all played into my strategy. After planting the idea within Nick's (my roommate) mind grapes since March, I've finally managed to convince him that moving from the hood is a good idea. We put in our 30 day notice at our current residence last week, found a place on Monday, and signed our rental agreement today. The best part of my entire plan; Nick thought he had a choice in the whole matter.

No longer will I be able to rub extremely dirty shoulders with the homeless of North Park. I'm leaving behind robberies, shootings, fire extinguishers, and junkies and entering into the world of cheap tequila shots, beach cruisers, drinking games, and college-aged neighbors. Rather than embracing the eclectic nature of uptown San Diego, I'm moving into the epicenter of doucheness and brosephs, also known as Pacific Beach.

With the offerings of bars, restaurants, and the beach, PB is an extremely attractive option for many San Diego residents, which makes it ideal for ridiculously priced rental properties. Nick and I spent three full days touring various locations, seeing every variety of apartment that you could imagine. There was the converted garage that smelled heavily of hippie perfume. The very nice condo, with functioning fireplace, that was located in the alleyway behind the domestic abuse house. The large apartment on the second level of the building that housed the corporate headquarters of a clothing company called Vicious Enterprises. This company offers "a variety of lingerie, costumes, stockings, rhinestone jewelry, and pet accessories." Mmmm classy...

After our extensive search, we managed to find a place that was described as LG/2 BR/2 BA in its ad. It's within our unemployed (or nearly unemployed) price range, has a secret passageway, a nice courtyard area, and a living room counter that is excellent for drinking games. It's closer to being in the Crown Point neighborhood than PB, but it's within a bike ride of the ocean and bars, and a short walk away from a park on Mission Bay. It's nothing extraordinary, but fairly solid at the same time. The neighborhood is really quiet, and there were no visible signs of bums. No rusted shopping carts or used needles anywhere in sight.

As soon as Nick gets back from the blessed land known as Minnesota, we are going to be loading up the moving trucks, singing the Jefferson's theme song, and saying goodbye to El Cajon Boulevard for the last time.

Fair readers, if you ever find yourself in the San Diego area, come visit us at the beach. There are couches, courtyards, and quarters tables waiting to welcome you.

More to come...