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Too Geeky To Put In MC Masala >

: Two Weeks' Worth of Columnity: Actually published last week: On the mini-International-House I lived in, years ago.

The Frenchman, The Italian, The Mexican, The Texan and I had all answered an ad on Craigslist.org for rooms in an apartment in Berkeley. You couldn't beat the price, but the location -- across the street from a pub -- was a mite sketchy.

That experience four years ago helped me define my criteria as I looked for an apartment in New York this month: dishwasher: yes; elevator: yes; four roommates: no; proximity to booze hall: no.

This week: I have a cold! Plus: the contrasting ways in which Californians and Noo Yawkers be walkin' down the street!

We made conversation while waiting for the freight company. Jésus, a longtime New Yorker, shook his head at the thought of living in California.

"Earthquakes!" he said simply, shaking his head, even after I tried a cheap-shot argument balancing the threat of earthquakes against the threat of terrorism. I hadn't realized I was a Californian until I found myself explaining and defending California to the guy who was helping me move to New York.

I have to make MC Masala more Dave Barry and less Carrie Bradshaw. That is, more absurd-funny, less ninth-grade essay slogging through obvious analogies to a sappy conclusion.



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This work by Sumana Harihareswara is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.