Sometimes my pride likes to bite me in the ass. Just to remind me that it is still there.

[Ed. Note: Another email to H-, where I regale him with the perils of being poor (and stupid) in the city.]

From elvi slives
Sent Friday, September 7, 2001 2:57 pm
To "H-"
Subject Re: New Address!
Dear H-,

Not word one about what it is like to live in a completely different country. I am very interested (well, very and interested are strong words) to hear about the things that you do now that you don't have pesky bitches like me to annoy. V. interested indeed.

Not that I don't want to send you anything (although I am not sure that what I would send you would make it through customs anyway) but I am poor ass broke. I couldn't afford the stamps on any kind of letter that I must send, not to mention that I don't have anything interesting to say since I don't have a job and have been relegated to the position of having to drag my ass out of bed at 2 pm in the morning to look for jobs at a nearby (for now) computer lab. Sound familiar? Why, why did I do this to myself, you ask? Because I am mainly an idiot. I prefer unemployment to the slap of being demoted back down to intern at [Redacted](the place where I used to work). Sometimes my pride likes to bite me in the ass. Just to remind me that it is still there.

I unfortunately will not be taking the place in Crown Heights, as when we asked a cop on the street where exactly we were, he said (and I quote) "in the crotch of hell." Not such a nice neighborhood.

Now I am looking at a loft in XXX, the "made" part of XXX, no less. When the super was telling us about the apartment (after he picked us up in his humvee and told us he was moving out the place because he just bought a house on the "shore") he mentioned that the person who owned the building across the street was, you know (rubbing his nose -- I didn't know what he meant at first, I thought he meant they were allergic to cats??? But then N- explained).... I didn't mind that so much, but had to admit that I was slightly freaked out by that the walls of the apartment were soundproofed. Also, the carpeting was kind of a light off-white color, and when N- asked him how he got stains out of it he just kind of laughed, and said, "it's easier than you think." I was soo freaked, but the apartment is gorgeous--and let's face it, I would rather have the mafia as neighbors than crackheads. At least they know how to clean up when they are done.

I heard that you like champagne cola too (L- brought me back some from the bahamas after she heard I liked it) and now I am having a hard time finding it. Where? Where in Manhattan (below 125th Street) do they sell that blessed elixir? I await your answer with bated breath.

That is all for now. You may go.

love,

elvi slives