When my wife and I decided to divorce, the first thing on my agenda after purchasing condoms was to find another place to live.
After being reminded several times about the restraining order (MARK MY WORDS...one day I WILL HAVE YOU, Jessica Alba!) I settled on an apartment complex in my town about 4 minutes away from the house.
I was happy about '4 minutes' because I could sell that to the kids as, "See kids? It only takes FOUR MINUTES to get to daddy's which is HALF THE TIME IT TAKES PAYTON TO SHOWER" which is the truth since it takes my daughter 8 minutes (she has a TIMER) to shower even though she's only 9 years old SERIOUSLY WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE FOR EIGHT MINUTES?! but you know what?...you know what?
I DON'T CARE. I get heat and hot water included in my rent.
The problem was that there was only a one-bedroom available...and I couldn't look at it until THE DAY BEFORE I WAS TO MOVE IN so I only had the model apartment to go by which was being shown to me by a very lovely woman and by 'very lovely' I mean 'looks like deep facial crevaces are taking their time with this one to make sure they get it right' with the accompanying 'Twelve Packs of Marlboro's a day takes it's toll on the larynx' sexy chemotherapy voice.
Me: "Well..does it look like this one?"
Lady: (coughs up lung)
Me: "I'LL TAKE IT!"
So the day I see the apartment I meet up with Hacky McHackerson who - bless her emphysema - now has to sit through a half hour of bitching from a man moving from a 3500 s.f. 4-bedroom house with a pool and a dog and OH THE LUXURY his own washer and dryer into this:
The king size bed and queen sleeper sofa and fourteen other pieces of furniture I just bought should fit just fine in here if I can just knock these other three walls down and build a house instead.
So Karl Malden is showing me around and I'm starting to feel bad for that poor poor bitch because she's like, "OOH! And here is..A CLOSET!" like I'm just back from my POW stint in Vietnam and I'd love ANYTHING if it wasn't made out of mud and bamboo but instead I'm all, like, "Well this sucks. This won't fit. Is this beam sturdy enough to hold a noose carrying 150 pounds?"
Just when I think it can't possibly be any worse...
I get to the bathroom.
Does anyone know if there is still a waiting period for firearms?
So, armed with my undersize apartment and bathroom that has allowed me to get completely in touch with my feminine side (YAY VAGINAS!) I furnished the place the best I could which included going through TWO sofas because the first sofa I had delivered would not fit in the hallway.
Not the DOOR of the apartment, mind you.
THE HALLWAY OF THE BUILDING.
It's then that my ex-wife drops this bombshell on me:
Ex: "You're taking Izzy."
Meet Izzy, people:
Yes. I got my daughter's hamster because my ex-wife has no idea how to clean said hamster cage.
Speaking of the hamster cage...
GUESS WHAT FUCKING COLOR IT IS.
Because nothing says, "Bachelor Pad" better than a decked-out living room capped off by a two-inch rodent living in a hot pink condominium.
I'm a little jealous of her.
Her sofa fit in the hallway without any problems at all.
DON'T FORGET TO ENTER MY HARD ROCK CAFE giveaway contest that features pictures of Kathy Griffin in a bikini!
Two winners will be picked Friday and all you have to do is comment.