Should I begin with the FBI report, or am I getting ahead of myself?
Let’s start with the 4am ant infestation that led to me massacring thousands of tiny arthropods as they ingested the dog food in the kitchen. It was a genocide of massive proportions and I still feel them crawling on me. Keep in mind, I also might be nekkid, wearing my boyfriend’s gymshoes, paper towels under arm, and windex cocked and ready. Just to complete the picture for all of you.
Then, let’s move onto the fantastic apartment listing that made me believe that good things happen to good people…a great apartment, with parking, (that 8X4 is all I want for Christmas), right in the Marina with access to a great run and killer neighborhood. Back and forth email contact with the presently-living-out-of-town-owner over the past 24 hours, and even a rental application filled out. Let’s step back and remember that I would never in a million years give out any social security # or financial information to someone I had never met, but I was also never asked for it. After a 30 minute phone discussion with “Steve” today about seeing the apartment, I was suddenly asked for a $1000 refundable deposit for insurance in over-nighting the keys from Evanston, Illinois. I politely declined with a “Fuck, no.” I kid. I actually thought “Fuck, no,” and instead said “Please understand that I will in no way, shape, or form be sending money to you, someone I have never met, for an apartment I have not seen.” And it went on from there. Forty minutes of this, and he is still saying he’s sending me the keys. As I’m chatting with “Steve,” whose first language is not my own, I’m finding it hard to believe that this guy could ever live in an apartment this nice. He wasn’t, um, into “book-larnin’ and such” if you catch my drift. Call me crazy, but if I am ever going to run a scam I’m hiring a British-accent because they always sound smarter.