Thursday, December 07, 2006
I can't figure how people functioned before Craigslist. Clearly, I remember the days before its existence, but these weren't the days when I was looking for apartments, jobs, subletters, or missed connections. (Shush. You know you look, too.) If I had to find any of these things without CL's help I'm just not sure how I'd succeed. Flyers? Door to door inquiries? Telegrams? Without CL, I would never have sold my bed the way I just did. Here's how it went down.
I'm moving tomorrow and need my bed gone yesterday. I'm sort of sad to see it go since I definitely dig it, but convenience first, my friends. The thought of taking it apart, walking it down all my stairs, strapping it to the roof...on and on and on? Nope. So I posted on CL, naming an insane price if someone picked it up tomorrow. Immediately my inbox started to flood. But one especially caught my eye.
I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR BED. I WANT IT. ASAP.
Now, I'd have been frightened by this if it weren't signed LOVE ANDREW AND JOEY and I didn't live in West Hollywood, a predominantly gay neighborhood. Call me crazy, but I was pretty sure these guys weren't coming over to jump me. I wrote back asking if they had some help and a truck.
YES. WE WILL COME OVER RIGHT NOW.
My roommate and I looked at the clock (1:05 am) and then at each other and shrugged. I wrote back and told him to head over.
OH MY GOD. WE'RE ON OUR WAY. THANK YOU SO SO MUCH. I LOVE YOU AMY.
This was gonna be good.
Two gay boys cruise into my garage, and immediately hand me their baby chihuahua. My roommate and I sit on the floor and start to take pictures of us playing with the puppy; we put him in our sweatshirts and under our blankets and let him bite our hands while we make frightening giggly squeals. All while our new friends (who paid me largely with quarters) stomp up and down our stairs with my dissembled bed. By the time they leave ("Lock your doors, ladies! If I weren't gay, I'd be in your pants"), it's 2 am; we know their gritty relationship details, we want a chihuahua, and I'm one step closer to SF.
I just don't think this would have gone down with a newspaper ad.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Good morning, faithful readers.
It may appear that I've up and disappeared on you, but I'm simply on a blogging sabbatical while I wrap up my internship, search for a new job, drink eggnog and gingerbread lattes, drop my jaw at Britney's underwear-free antics, and pack up my room for my move to San Francisco. Yes, Blue Jean Amy LA Lady will no longer be come Friday. So speaking of which, I guess I need to change my name. Any suggestions? Something about...flowers in my hair? Heading for the Frisco Bay? Leaving my heart behind? I'm stumped. Please help. Thank you.