Stinking hippies

So I've moved all my valuable stuff down the West coast to a fresh new San Diego. fresh and new because it's been raining like gangbusters for a week, and now it's been sunny for a couple days straight.

I thought I had a studio apartment taken care of when I came down here 2 weeks ago... I remember it like it was just a....

[wiggly waterfall visual effect here, with harp swells]

So I'm driving around the area of my new office, looking for an apartment close-by, 'cause there ain't no way I'm going to commute on the gaddam I-5. what a one-two punch of congestion and horrible traffic engineering. wow.

When suddenly, I spot a "for rent" sign on a freestanding building on this lot, like a converted garage guest house. it's neet. I call. The guy says he'll be right out to show me the place. His name is Star, he's a skinny greenbean of a hippy with long unkempt hair (too spastic for dreds, too dredy for a 'fro)

Star shows me the place, which is *it*
as close to *it* as I'm going to see in this nieghborhood
(the Northern Beaches region of San Diego is...
full of $golf courses$ and $hummers$

Star strikes me as a hippy, and kind of out-of-place, but not so much, since everything that isn't upscale is devoted to surfing, eating, and relaxing, there are many parks and... well, beaches.
It's pretty fantastic actually.

Anyway, I assure Star I want the place, and he assures me it's 1st come, 1st served, will I please fill out this application? Oh, and a credit report?

I don't have the report, and I go to some trouble to produce one in under 60 minutes. This can be done these days on the internet. That is crazy...

So, I'm done looking for a place, It's Thursday nite, and I fly home Saturday to turn around and drive back Tuesday, unpack, and start work the next Monday. Nothing I like better than a plan coming together!


I hate stinky hippies. fukken hippies.

Friday morning I get up. Star says he'll call me in the morning, He's just got the give the stuff to the landlady, who will be there in the morning.

I wait 'til noon and call. I can hear it in his voice. there is some bad news that needs to be broken.
Will he be a man and come out with it?
Will he hem and haw and beat around the bush with obtuse dodge-the-pointery?

stinking hippies. I'm still not sure what the problem was. but some point he forgot to mention. no pets. no smoking. no noise (the neighbors have walls that have ears!). the place is filled with mildew spores.

I think some bastard, possibly another STINKING HIPPIE, bribed Star to make sure my next two weeks would be... less of a calm, orderly affair than someone might have been planning on.

bastard.

Luckily, My friend has a friend who has an empty room, so for the moment I can look for an apartment without hiding all my stuff under bushes everyday.