So our application was denied. For zero reason. It costs 140 dollars more than our old apartment and we're making double what we did back then.
But we still don't make enough somehow.
I don't want to look at any more places. I am so tired of this. We have less than a month to find a new place.
Ugh. I hate this so much.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Movin' on up!
Nick and I found an apartment. Finally. And because we are now earning twice as much as before (yay! full time job!), we can afford an awesome apartment in an awesome neighborhood downtown.
Yes, I am an adult.
We looked at this building when we first moved in together but it was condos back then and WAY above our budget.
Friends, I give to you our future apartment (As long as they accept our application. But as I said, they turned these condos into apartments so they are pretty desperate.):
Yes, it's the floorplan just rotated around but I like it better the second way. I think you can see the layout better. The door is at the bottom and the balcony at the top just like when you walk into the apartment.
Here's the website with photos but our kitchen is a lot bigger than the one they show.
There is an exercise room (and room for the Wii fit in the apartment!) and a movie room that you can reserve with big leather seats with cupholders and a big screen. There is a trash chute on every floor (and one right outside our potential apartment), recycling downstairs and a two-story heated garage in which we will have a reserved parking spot.
My parents are trying to convince Nick and I to just buy a house already. Since we don't want to stay in Michigan and don't know how long we'll be here, we decided to just get another apartment until our plans sort themselves out.
On the new job end, things are getting better. This job is going to be so, so easy. The hardest part is going to be speaking French but seriously? It's not going to kill me. And my accent already tells them that I'm not French so any mistakes after that will be a given.
I got in a giant French sucks fight earlier this week but let's leave that for later.
Yay! New apartment! Yay! Being an adult!
Yes, I am an adult.
We looked at this building when we first moved in together but it was condos back then and WAY above our budget.
Friends, I give to you our future apartment (As long as they accept our application. But as I said, they turned these condos into apartments so they are pretty desperate.):
Yes, it's the floorplan just rotated around but I like it better the second way. I think you can see the layout better. The door is at the bottom and the balcony at the top just like when you walk into the apartment.
Here's the website with photos but our kitchen is a lot bigger than the one they show.
There is an exercise room (and room for the Wii fit in the apartment!) and a movie room that you can reserve with big leather seats with cupholders and a big screen. There is a trash chute on every floor (and one right outside our potential apartment), recycling downstairs and a two-story heated garage in which we will have a reserved parking spot.
My parents are trying to convince Nick and I to just buy a house already. Since we don't want to stay in Michigan and don't know how long we'll be here, we decided to just get another apartment until our plans sort themselves out.
On the new job end, things are getting better. This job is going to be so, so easy. The hardest part is going to be speaking French but seriously? It's not going to kill me. And my accent already tells them that I'm not French so any mistakes after that will be a given.
I got in a giant French sucks fight earlier this week but let's leave that for later.
Yay! New apartment! Yay! Being an adult!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Being an adult sucks
I don't know about this job yet and don't feel like talking about it/have the time to but I have a story to tell you:
Today, we had a trainer come in and teach us Google Earth. Before we started, he went around the room and asked our names and for us to say something in our language. He was French African.
Please tell me you are feeling the same thing I was: DREAD. PANIC. DREAD.
So we go around the room and everyone is saying five bajillion sentences and the other two French people have great accents and each have two paragraphs prepared already.
So he gets to me and all I can think to say is "ta mère est un pamplemousse." I can't call his mother a grapefruit! Who knows what connotation that has! I am probably calling her a whore or something.
What do I do? What do I do? OH! MAKE A JOKE! People love jokes! They will be so busy laughing that they won't notice that you say "Bone-jewurrr y'all"! Make a joke, Rachel.
Do I say my name in French or English? What did the Hope girl say? KAH-Rhen? Okay, so French.
"Je m'appelle Rachelle et je ne parle pas français."
Everyone is staring at me. Why are they staring? Did I miss an article? "Parlez-vous anglais?" No. No article needed. I said the "ne" but they can forgive that, I was nervous, I had to prepare a simple sentence. THIS IS A JOKE. I just said "I don't speak French" in French! Ha ha. Laugh already. No one is laughing. Okay.
"Ceci n'est pas une pipe...?"
Did they get it? Okay. He got it. And I got a little laugh. Ugh. Do these people have no sense of humor? Hope girl is staring at me. I'm not even looking at British guy. Heaven forbid he judge me. He's British. We left them for a reason. And Hope girl liked France. Screw them.
Reasoning doesn't stop the embarrassment. I can feel myself turning red. I am warm, it's warm in here. Ugh. I am a retard. Why did I think this job would be okay? I can no longer get away with the fact that I don't speak French.
I told them up front. I told them it was terrible! It's not my fault!
During break, I am furiously checking the internet as I have chosen sleep over Google Reader for the past week and have 97 unread items. I AM STARING AT THE SCREEN AND NOT WELCOMING CONTACT.
Hope girl turns around. TURN BACK AROUND, GIRL. DO NOT WANT YOUR HUMORLESS FACE LOOKING AT ME. AM ON THE INTERNETS.
"Bonjour, Rachelle."
Cut her off, cut her off! There's no way I'm speaking French to her and letting her judge me. I AM NOT YOUR FRIEND. I hate France! I hate French! I just told you I don't speak French.
"Oh, no. I cannot think to speak French today." Still staring at my 97 Google Reader items. Must label all interesting things.
"Oh. I was just... I was wondering why you said you didn't speak French."
I looked over at her. Oh, God. She is looking at me with pity and concern. Cut it off quick! No friends! No pity! No French!
"It was A JOKE."
"Oh." She turns back around quickly. The conversation is over.
Was I just a bitch to her? I think I was just a bitch. Whatever. She's not talking to me.
Ugh. Why don't these people get jokes?
At least they are all nice.
Today, we had a trainer come in and teach us Google Earth. Before we started, he went around the room and asked our names and for us to say something in our language. He was French African.
Please tell me you are feeling the same thing I was: DREAD. PANIC. DREAD.
So we go around the room and everyone is saying five bajillion sentences and the other two French people have great accents and each have two paragraphs prepared already.
So he gets to me and all I can think to say is "ta mère est un pamplemousse." I can't call his mother a grapefruit! Who knows what connotation that has! I am probably calling her a whore or something.
What do I do? What do I do? OH! MAKE A JOKE! People love jokes! They will be so busy laughing that they won't notice that you say "Bone-jewurrr y'all"! Make a joke, Rachel.
Do I say my name in French or English? What did the Hope girl say? KAH-Rhen? Okay, so French.
"Je m'appelle Rachelle et je ne parle pas français."
Everyone is staring at me. Why are they staring? Did I miss an article? "Parlez-vous anglais?" No. No article needed. I said the "ne" but they can forgive that, I was nervous, I had to prepare a simple sentence. THIS IS A JOKE. I just said "I don't speak French" in French! Ha ha. Laugh already. No one is laughing. Okay.
"Ceci n'est pas une pipe...?"
Did they get it? Okay. He got it. And I got a little laugh. Ugh. Do these people have no sense of humor? Hope girl is staring at me. I'm not even looking at British guy. Heaven forbid he judge me. He's British. We left them for a reason. And Hope girl liked France. Screw them.
Reasoning doesn't stop the embarrassment. I can feel myself turning red. I am warm, it's warm in here. Ugh. I am a retard. Why did I think this job would be okay? I can no longer get away with the fact that I don't speak French.
I told them up front. I told them it was terrible! It's not my fault!
During break, I am furiously checking the internet as I have chosen sleep over Google Reader for the past week and have 97 unread items. I AM STARING AT THE SCREEN AND NOT WELCOMING CONTACT.
Hope girl turns around. TURN BACK AROUND, GIRL. DO NOT WANT YOUR HUMORLESS FACE LOOKING AT ME. AM ON THE INTERNETS.
"Bonjour, Rachelle."
Cut her off, cut her off! There's no way I'm speaking French to her and letting her judge me. I AM NOT YOUR FRIEND. I hate France! I hate French! I just told you I don't speak French.
"Oh, no. I cannot think to speak French today." Still staring at my 97 Google Reader items. Must label all interesting things.
"Oh. I was just... I was wondering why you said you didn't speak French."
I looked over at her. Oh, God. She is looking at me with pity and concern. Cut it off quick! No friends! No pity! No French!
"It was A JOKE."
"Oh." She turns back around quickly. The conversation is over.
Was I just a bitch to her? I think I was just a bitch. Whatever. She's not talking to me.
Ugh. Why don't these people get jokes?
At least they are all nice.
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