The following was written by Ryan T. Jacobs:

So everyone knows moving blows. That’s no secret. However, what blows more is having to find the apartment before you move there, especially in a big city. It costs an absurd amount of money to get your own place, and then you have to jump through a jillion hoops to get said place, so because that is almost impossible for people without “real” jobs, we’re forced to live with roommates, and mostly roommates that we didnt know before moving in with them. I am now currently in the aforementioned unfortunate position of having to find an apartment.

In the big city, finding an apartment is not completely unlike a casting call for a reality show or acting job; lots of people, all fighting over one spot, trying to prove their merit within the confines of emails and 5 min conversations with people you normally probably wouldn’t give a shit about, but because you don’t wanna live on the street, you turn on your a-game charm. It’s like throwing pearls before swine and is, not unlike casting calls, utterly degrading. I had an interview with a guy lately who was just a massive dork, and I think dorks are really cool normally, but this guy was weird dorky, read: serial killer dorky, AND, he had some really disturbing, not to mention disgusting, orange fungus-like something on his top lip that i couldnt directly look at for fear of needing a bucket if you get my drift.

I just kept thinking to myself, the whole time, trying to charm my way into being chosen, “I could never drink out of a single glass in this house without washing it in bleach.” Nevertheless, this didn’t prevent me from spending FORTY-FIVE of the most awkward minutes of my life, talking to this guy in his apartment about Swedish comic books and all sorts of junk that i wasnt interested in, just for the sake of having a place to call home.

I finally mustered up the courage to say i had to go, but I’m not completely unconvinced that this guy wasnt just wasting people’s lives, one hour at a time, without really having an actual room he wanted to rent out, but rather, just because he was so desperate to have friends that he’d go to any lengths for human contact.  Nevertheless, when I got the email saying he was going to choose someone else, there’s still a certain demeaning nature to it, like this person I wouldn’t have wanted to live with anyways, rejected me. Lame. It’s like getting a bit too much in you to drink, going up to a girl at a bar that you normally wouldn’t give the time of day to, and then she shoots you down. Sweet irony. I think we’ve all been there guys and gals. Til the next time….

please note the guitarist miming the “heart attack” and “now” parts, just to make sure everyone’s getting it…