please send me money
blogging has been light here and i apologize but I DON'T SEE YOU TURKEYS PICKING UP THE SLACK.
the reason for the light-bloggery is simple and, if you must know, exciting and scary. mrs nice guy and i are suddenly, almost unexpectedly and very terrifyingly, buying a house. that we can't afford. for no justifiable reason.
it all started one brunch loooong ago in a galaxy far away. on sunday morning. we were brunching at a friend's place (this friend's new apartment, actually, almost a year to the day of the BACON INCIDENT) when, disgusted by the dearth of grease fires, we excused ourselves to check out an open house one neighborhood away. another friend who had been brunching with us chose to come. his name, for our purposes, will be Irwin.
Irwin lives near Columbia University where he is employed. he hates coming to brooklyn. he always jokes about needing a passport and having to change currency. when he showed up to brunch at noon he said he had left his apartment at 4 am. it's funny, but not in a ha-ha kind of way. it's more funny in a i-want-to-kick-you-in-the-nuts sort of way.
anyway, irwin came with us to the open house. we get to the open house and there's three of us and a baby. the broker is momentarily confused. i'm like "hey, this is park slope, dude. if you don't like our unconventional family lifestyle, then move to teaneck." and then we looked around the house.
the house. how shall i put it? "love at first sight" is a cliche. "dream house" is hackneyed. "instantly shit my pants" because i knew "we both had no choice but to buy this house and go into crushing debt that will eventually fall to our children's great-grandchildren long after we are buried, having starved to death from not being able to afford food for ourselves any more" is more accurate. about 30 seconds into the tour, mrs nice guy looked at me and she had that look in her eye that every husband of a strong and scary woman knows. it said: "this is MY house, bitch." and who was i to argue?
irwin turned to me halfway through the tour and said "even i would come to visit you if you lived here. probably."
some cool facts about the house:
- it was built in 1870! one-eight-seven-zero! that's older than the constitution! i think!
- during the prohibition, there was a secret entrance to the basement, which was a SPEAKEASY! the original bar is still there! so are the taps! (at this point in the tour, i handed the broker my daughter and said "is this enough of a down-payment?" mrs nice guy shot arrows of death and castration at me from her hell-red eyes.)
- it's an actual house. in new york. three blocks from prospect park.
- did i mention that the basement was a speakeasy? that's almost cooler than having secret hallways like in Clue and Webster.
- after WWII someone built a big-ass garage behind the house and ran an auto-body repair business. in the 70's the garage was converted into a big-ass master bedroom/screening room/play space/orgy hall.
- one word (comprising two words): roofdeck
- one more word (also comprising two words): speakeasy
the wife and i went back to our suddenly-repulsive condo and we she crunched some numbers. basically, we she realized that if we sold our condo for just enough money, we could afford the house and the utilities and all the sundry monthlies and bank fees and lawyers and engineers AND still have a whopping $8 a month to live off of.
so we made an offer on monday night.
yesterday it was accepted. then, for the second time in less than a week, i had to change my shorts.
that's why it's been hard to blog. it's actually been physically challenging to blog: i am in the midst of a three-day heart attack. my sphincter has seized up. one sip of coffee gives me seizures. my usually-strapping muscles are tied into Gordian knots. i think i just had a stroke trying to remember how to spell "Gordian." oop -- there was another one. there's no point in wearing clothes because i'll only sweat through them. WHAT. ME STRESSED?
so. deep breaths. every time i am confronted with a vision of my daughter being forced into sex slavery to help daddy pay the mortgage, i look at the original listing for the house again. and instantly, i feel better. i mean sex slavery, shmex shmavery. this house was a speakeasy!
18 Comments:
Very cool! When are you having a party in the speakeasy?
While it's easy to say, here in the cheap middle parts of the country, welcome to the indentured servitude called home ownership. We all go through that initial pucker. And we all get over it. And somehow we still eat, and amazingly the mortgage gets paid.
We were not in the market when we bought our last one either - Katrina pulled that one on us. But I had that instant love affair, and we knew that all hope of price-negotiation was doomed. And our house didn't even have a speakeasy. That is so cool!
sounds so cool! We've been going in circles about whether or not to buy a house for years... but I'm a stubborn bitch and I refuse to let selfish sellers, deceitful real estate agents and money-hungry mortgage brokers get the best of me. I'm in Miami, dude, this market is as killer as it gets (I know, it's still shit compared to NYC). If we buy a house now, we'll eat up 90% of our monthly income. And how will I ever buy shoes with what's left??
OMG you are frickin' hilarious.
We've been renting for 4 1/2 years and the thought of buying something (townhouse, house) scares the shit outta me. We don't pay utilities! We've got it made! But, I know the day will come when we will take that debt and stress on and sell our child to pay for it.
I'm just glad you did it first. (smile)
Congratulations! What an exciting time for you guys.
Now you have more than enough room for BNG #2.
How would the second week in March suit you for your first house guests from Europe?
i crapped my pants reading this! you are too hilarious!!! this is by far one of my favoritest posts ever! congrats, and you know you have to post some pictures of that speakeasy for us.
congrats to you and the fam!
$8 left over? I'm jealous :)
As a fellow Park Sloper I am dying to ask you WHERE THE HELL this new house is. But I won't. But I'm dyin' to know.
Congratulations! I look forward to Mr. Nice Guy's take on home maintenance.
for the record, people. WE ARE HOMEOWNERS ALREADY. no need to welcome us to the club. we're in it. it just so happens that the "home" we currently own is tiny. and a tiny apartment. and, yes, the home we are acquiring is HUGE and a house. a slight difference.
but, sheesh, y'all are seriously besmirching my inchoate reputation as a slumlord property owner. work with me folks! i own property now, yet soon i will own people's dreams ... and then crush them. or! charge them too-high rents.
or ... just live quietly in my house. which i own. and is a house.
Can I come live with you?
--Your neighbor on Plaza Street
You could open up the speak easy for $5/head parties! Pay for Baby Nice Guy to go to college!
I am ENVIOUS of this house. Would you care for visitors? history buffs? sightseers? Maybe you could open the house on weekends, put out a tip jar and pay part of your mortgage with this money?
Give it a thought and let us know.
AWESOME I want to come to the party at the speakeasy!
seems to me, sex slavery won't be necessary for baby nice guy. just re-open the bar for business.
congratulations on the dream house. sounds like you'll need every cent of that "gravy" $8 to buy yourself some new underwear.
i think its very sweet that you there americans think that 1870 is old....
Well it's been almost three years. Don't you think it's time to post an update. Do you still enjoy the house? Are you still broke? How much is your daughter going for these days?
I need to know this stuff....
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