I stink. Really badly. I just got back from a run/walk on the Tayelet and I'm hoping my stench will somehow mask the unbearable scent that has permeated every fiber of this apartment. Apparently, the gentelman who lived in this apartment before I moved in, was a chain smoker. He moved out, but his tobacco scent still lingers. Ah, to quote the Cranberries, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?.
Today was hot. Damn hot. Hot to the point that I sweated clear through my favorite Jcrew Fisher Island t-shirt. It didn't help that I walked from South Tel Aviv all the way up to North Tel Aviv in record breaking time. Still not sleeping, so I was behind the eight ball when I finally got out of bed this morning. I was meeting my new landlord/contractor at the apartment I am going to be renting for what will hopefully be the next two years.
And the place looks like something Ty Pennington (that's his name right, I never watched the show so I could be mixing him up with Jets QB Chad Pennington) could really sink his teeth into. For the lucky few would got to see the pics of the pad, you're probably thinking I should start looking for a new place since there is no way this apartment will be ready by September 6th.
But they didn't meet Elon, Superman contractor who is larger than life. Literally. The man makes Patrick Ewing look like a miget. And, together with Chi, his Asian assistant, they are going to make sure the place is perfect by the time I need to move in. I got really excited walking around the apartment, and it brought me back to last summer, when I represented Shane Reilly and her 30 day complete apartment makeover at One Beacon Court. Yup, the Bloomberg building that houses celebs like Beyonce' was the stage for her masterful work. And her client was just as celebritied as Beyonce', but for confidentiality reasons, I cannot disclose his/her identity. Nonetheless, I looked around the place and saw infinite potential.
Plus, I'm a sucker for a great bathroom. As those who know my apartment from back on the Upper West Side, they know that I took the tiny space because of the spacious bathroom. As a woman, let's be frank here, the bathroom is the most important room of the house. Whoever said it was the kitchen is freakin lying to you.
After chatting it up with Elon, I left him and Chi to get back to work and walked back down Ben Yehudah street to get to know my neighborhood. I discovered that the shul is across the street from a big Supersol, which is right next door to a gym.
I couldn't resist and have to go in to check out Pure. If I just walked around the gym, I would be getting a workout. The place is so far below surface level, it could have been used as a bomb shelter. I took a self-guided tour (apparently in Israel, they don't believe in personalized tours. They don't really care if you sign up or not, they know you will anyway so no need to sell you) and ended up in the office of Eran. He made me say "Manhattan" five times to revel in my Anglo-accent and then he got down to business. The business of trying to swamp apartments, of course. Eran was pissed that I gave up my pad on the 74th and Columbus, when I could have swaped with him for a few weeks instead. After apologizing profusely for my gross oversight, we chatted about the facilities, the classes and the trainers.
Here is when I talk about how much I miss my old trainer, Victoria. We worked out together at NYSC for almost 4 years, 2 of which were half-assed, the other two were hard-core. Victoria was perfect, she knew when to kick my ass and when to ease up on the workout. Plus, we both liked the same books, and she was always great when it come to dispensing dating advice. So, I asked Eran to introduce me to a good female trainer, and he demured. Apparently, the female trainers aren't that good, so he wants to introduce me to a great male trainer who also teaches the kickboxing class.
Given my graveyard of male trainers past: i.e. Tony, David, and Matt from the NYSC, this will be an interesting Shidduch. Let's see what transpires.
Former client Oren just called to invite me out to dinner, but given the late hour and my showerless state, I declined. I'm hoping to get together with him later on this week, before he heads out of country on vacation.
Tomorrow is supposed to be another scorcher. And now, I'm jut feeling Dirrty, so it's time to hit the showers.
Till tomorrow!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
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