So, the search for an ordinary life continues. I have visited three flats around the city, have two more scheduled for today, one tomorrow, and one Thursday. The upside is that I'm becoming acquainted with the city a bit more each day. With each passing day in the hostel and each passing night with my comrade from China sleeping on top of me.

You know what I mean.

I was looking at a flat last night in Island Bay, a quaint community that offers really nice views from most homes of the Gulf...or Bay...or Ocean...I forget which...it's a 15 minute bus ride from the city center. A single mother of one was offering a room to rent. If it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. During our chat, I learned that she's a Rapid Cycling Manic Depressive; but that the medication helps (a gummy bear on steroids). That she is self-employed--making beaded jewelry and practicing reflexology (foot or ear massage anyone?). That she's "bipolar, bisexual, and beautiful." That two of her three children died tragically in a house fire a few years back, that her father is a Member of Parliament here in Wellington, and that she had the most charming English boyfriend with a charming blank stare, a cleft lip, and very little to add to humanity, or so it seemed. I think this is the chapter of Alice in Wonderland that Carroll never got published. I got to see the tattoo of a phoenix on her thigh, too, which will come in handy since it'll be the cover photo for her soon to come autobiography "What Not to Say to Potential Flatmates," available at alternative bookstores everywhere.

I'm still waiting word from the restaurant manager whom I spoke with on Saturday about job openings. I really hope to see him again soon so that I can experience all over again the Dirk Diggler shirt he was wearing as manager of one of Wellington's most upscale watering holes. He reminded me of the pimp from the Risky Business remake "The Girl Next Door." Dirk Diggler wardrobe, pimp looks...I'm pretty sure I'd fit right in. I didn't know if I was interviewing for a waitstaff position or a pizza boy role in his next movie with the stunning bartender who ignored me (all an acting job, I'm sure).

"Do you see Bartender Girl? She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's really foxy."

"Take off your pants..."

Okay, I'm off to visit another flat. College kids. I'm eerily close to becoming the perverted older roommate. What's the rule on this? I'm sure there's some kind of etiquette about what's shady and what is acceptable man behavior in this situation--looking at flatmates. Should it be half + 7, as with dating?

In any case, I very well could end up being the guy that they tell their friends about..."come see the older roommate. We've nicknamed him Pee-Wee."