The Sex Pad
I’ve been looking to get my own place for a while, and I’ve kicked things into high gear now, calling up brokers and looking at places from makati to pasig to mandaluyong. It’s tiring business, this, and while I was taking a break and chatting with a college friend this nugget of pure wisdom eked out:
Camilo: you do now this means you will officially have a sex pad after
Camilo: haha
Ryan Sumo: oh yeah
Ryan Sumo: why do you think i want a my own place dude
Ryan Sumo: hello bachelor pad
Camilo Quevedo: behnd the mind of every guy who wants his own place is a horny little 12 year old.
Ryan Sumo: dude, seriously
Ryan Sumo: why else would you get your own place
Camilo Quevedo: say goodbye to underwear
Ryan Sumo: i say all this shit to my folks, independence, building emotional capital, yadda yadda yadda
Camilo Quevedo: haha
Camilo Quevedo: we all do
Ryan Sumo: goodbye to underwear?
Camilo Quevedo: slobby naked days
Camilo Quevedo: haha like lazy sundays
And there you have it ladies and gents, the only true reason why any 20-something would even consider leaving the safety, security and free-loading goodness of living with the folks: So they can have their own sex pad.
The Parking Space
I’d been browsing through local banks’ property listings, because sometimes they have really good deals up on auction/foreclosed properties. While looking through UCPB’s list, I saw a makati condo that looked too good to be true. 405,000 for a condo that was walking distance from Greenbelt. I didn’t care if that condo was as big as Harry Pottter’s room because at that price it was a fucking steal.
Turns out the 405k was to purchase a frickin parking space in the condo.