The City.

HippieHusband and I finally made it to YummyLargeCity where we began the fun-filled tradition of apartment hunting. Apartment hunting is really the best way to get to know a strange city plus it comes with the added bonus of satisfying your inner snoop.

It's fabulous, really.

You get to drive around different neighbourhoods, peek into the houses and apartments of a diversity of people, and meet the different characters that populate that city.

Day 1 - Itsacitydamnit

Within 40 minutes, we were given a parking ticket. A friend of mine called this our big welcome basket from the city. Welcome to the YummyLargeCity now fuck off and pay us $40.00 for being stupid and not reading the signs.

Afterwards, whenever HippieHusband saw a parking enforcement vehicle, he'd yell, "MotherFucking golf cart cops!"

The first apartment we saw was managed by CyclingGuru, a 65-year old leather worn (from the sun no doubt), incredibly thin man, who frankly didn't look 65 more like 55 (good genes or just the Yumminess of the city), dressed ONLY in some very tight and some very bright blue cycling shorts and flipflops. He talked at length about how he bought his condo in the late 90s for a measly $57,000 and that now it was worth more $200,000-$300,000. And all I kept thinking was, it's 8:30am in the morning and you are wearing nothing but bright blue cycling shorts. Dude, did you sleep in them? In the end, the apartment was just too far from the university and too expensive.

The second apartment, I like to call MelrosePlace because it was a little apartment complex where you got the impression that everyone who lived there, hung out. The resident super told us that they had a "guys night" where they drank just a little too much, played poker and maybe even got a little high, if you know what I mean. This resident super was a graduate student in literature, 25ish guy who wore designer jeans, a button-down shirt with the cuffs undone, and flipflops. He looked remarkably like a young Brad Pitt with the whole, eyes-half-closed-like-he-wants-to-make-out-but-just-had-sex look, you know the kind that Brad Pitt wore in Thelma and Louise. Now I know why they call this the YummyLargeCity. While I was drawn to the dream that it would be cool to have instant friends and a community, in the end, I wanted to choose that community. MelrosePlace was just a little too hip and cool for HippieHusband and I.

Day 2 IAMACAT

Viewed 7 apartments in the span of 4 hours. Exhausting. But we finally found one that was more our pace. It was on the edge of cool and hip, but close enough that if we wanted we could find our inner hipster in about 10 minutes. It was a quiet, residential neighbourhood about a 45minute bike ride from the university. And the view from our balcony rivals the view from our house in SmallTown. As with any city, however, the price is double the rent we paid in SmallTown. Although, it's not beyond our means, once HippieHusband gets his position sorted out, we'll be more comfortable.

On our way back to the hotel, I saw this license plate that said IAMACAT. Made me think about why people get vanity plates. Is this like buying a big truck which is a sign to people that you have little to no dick. What does it mean then when you have a license plate that says IAMACAT? Meow. I mean really do you need a vehicle to describe your genitalia?

The city is full of interesting people and events and I can't wait to get to know our little community. Today as we were leaving our new neighbourhood, we saw a dude dressed in really tight black leopard skin pants and well...

Dude, there's a cat on your head. Oh no that's just your hair you say.

Welcome to YummyLargeCity.