March 01, 2002 | 11:19 AM

7K) ### Thurston Street

It doesn�t end well. There is much suspicion all around. John and Ronnie and I get it into our heads that Penny and James are purposefully trying to screw us. The reasons for this are complicated and not worth going into. Our apartment is inflicted with more paranoia than the oval office during Watergate.

Somehow, it turns into a war. Penny says she hates living with us and she and James are moving out on their own. I am crushed. How could she choose this shiftless hick over my friendship?

One night James screams at John.

Listen. God damn�t, I will be outta your hair by the 15th. You got that?

John, not being the type to get into confrontations, ignores him.

The next day James pulls the same thing, only he pitches his fit during an important Red Sox game. James stands in front of the TV yelling. But this time Ronnie is there too.

Ronnie cuts him off mid sentence.

Listen mutherfucker. If you don�t like this guy and you don�t like being here, then get the fuck out. There�s the door. Nobody�s making you stay. Hell, you�re not paying any rent or contributing to this apartment in any way. You should be kissing this dude�s feet that he is kind enough to let you freeload here. Who the fuck do you think you are?

Ronnie is a huge hulk of a man. He�s like a bull� usually calmly grazing in the grass (though in this case it�s a different kind of grass) but he�s scary as hell when provoked.

So James kowtows and apologizes, and Ronnie is my personal hero. I buy him a 12 pack of Sam Adams.

James and Penny find an apartment three blocks away from us�a huge one bedroom for $800/month, which is a steal.

Fucking yea for them.

I cry on the porch for hours the day that she leaves.

John and Ronnie and I realize we have to find another roommate. I am less than thrilled about this as I have a lousy track record, and am terrified of living with anyone I don�t know.

The only person we know who needs a place is this chick Brigette who is 18 years old and is basically a runaway. She works at the Stupid Company and is currently dating our friend Josh. She has long mahogany hair and baby blue eyes. She has a body like Rita Hayworth and the brain of a muncchici. Dumb as a post, that one. But so smooth and supple and gorgeous, I just want to lick her from top to bottom. Shame on me.

We decide against offering her the room.

As all other options are exhausted, we place an ad on BostonApartments.com. We are explicit concerning what we are looking for.

Repsonsible. Clean. Artsy. No Republicans.

NO LIVE IN BOYFRIENDS

The responses we get are interesting to say the least.

One girl is quite yuppiefied. She wears a Chanel suit and won�t stop talking through the whole interview. She seems nice enough but I can tell that she is secretly scheming to redecorate our funky thrift store pad in Pottery Barn drabness.

Ronnie hates her.

Next.

Another girl reminds me of a giant rabbit in that she barely talks and twitches her nose in a highly disturbing manner. She also mentions that her boyfriend would be living with her. Oh, and he doesn�t have a job. But he�s looking for one.

I�ve heard that little tune before.

John, Ronnie, and I exchange glances. Doesn�t she know how to read? Why the hell would she come all the way down here without relaying that useful bit of information over the phone first?

We reiterate our abhorrence of live in boyfriends. She walks out in a huff.

Next.

A Harvard grad. A computer geek boy who smokes us up and immediately tells us how much he wants to live here. This makes me nervous. He is making a case for why he is the coolest guy in the world. We tell him what we are looking for in a roommate. He interrupts us.

It�s all cool.. I mean, anything you want, you know? Whatever you want, you got.

He tells us about all his creative endeavors and how he wants us to be inolved and so forth.

Next.

She walks into the apartment with shy hesitation and looks at every picture on the wall. She wears glasses and a faded orange Jimmy Hendrix t-shirt and jeans and sneakers. She has curly auburn hair that falls down her back. She is tall�5�11�� and sturdy and curvaceous. When she smiles, she smiles slow, like a tulip opening to the sun..

She works for a small publishing company. She was the editor of her college literary magazine. Her idea of a good time, she says, is a bottle of red wine and a good book. She likes Margaret Atwood and Chianti. She smokes camel lights. She listens to Tom Waits.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Her name is Jenn. I ask her to move in the next day.

Stay tuned for Part the Twenty-Eighth...

And if you want the back-story on the swinginest Saga around, click HERE

I have a fun filled diaryland weekend coming up. Am chilling with This amazing chick tonight, and This amazing chick tomorrow night. Woo hoo!!!