She who Stands Where I Stood

In the last post I alluded to us moving. I’ve moved so much in the past year, I feel like a gypsy (only I take showers and smell better). Anyway, Landon and moved in next door with Jason this weekend. It's a bigger place, roughly the same price, and has off-street parking; that’s overall the largest win, cause when you live somewhere that everyone else wants to live, it’s a bitch to park. Granted, Landon and I still park on the street whenever convenient, because fuck everyone… we’ve had to walk a block or so to get home before, why should we make it easier for other people?

We were actually thinking of just throwing shit out of Landon’s window or rigging up a pulley system, since his old window was directly beside the new place. That way we would avoid the gazillion flights of stairs. OHhh how these stairs have memories of drinkety drunk times before!

Anyway, one of the things I wont miss about the old place is the plumbing. Because our building was one of the oldest in Uptown, it had some bad news bears where that was concerned. For example, you needed to hold down the handle on the toilet, but not hold it down too long. And the sink was vile; not only was it rusty (no, Maintenance, painting it will not fix the problem), it had two handles AND faucets for a cold and hot side of your face during a wash.

One of the cool things that came with the house next door, is Invader Zim, Jason's cat. He's one of the most awesome cats ever. He looks drunk here.

Thanks to those who helped us move. It was invaluable; yeah we had like two months notice and it was next door, but when it got down to the wire it was still like "OH SWEET MOSES, WE NEED TO GET OUR STUFF OUT!!!!" We were considering leaving a doubledecker for the next tenants (they dont check the toliet tank when doing move-out checkups!), but opted not to.

Chuck Norris got moved behind the pool table upstairs. Hopefully he’ll improve our game. Also, between the three of us, we now have four mini fridges. Can't ever really have enough of those. Anyway, you folks have a good week. I’m rolling into Florida for the week like a hurricane.

Move it or Lose it

Yesterday I had the distinct displeasure of moving. In general, this is not a fun task, but it was worsened by the fact it had been a warmer 40 degrees during the weekend, so the snow had melted, and then Tuesday it was 30 below, so that froze up to make a slippery spots of bust-your-ass-death on the sidewalks. I guess this is why people don’t move in the winter; in Fla this was never an issue. But, as Calvin Crustitron says, moving is like having sex for money; it sucks bad for a half hour, but then it’s over.

Despite me moving on the worst day of the year, this was a good thing. I had been sharing an apartment with randoms from craigslist, and it wasn’t a big deal because I was never around. But once my situation changed with Lawyerman, it actually mattered, and I found out what scum merchants I was living with. For example, I’m pretty sure the obese gay man I live with was peeing on the shower curtain; it sure as hell smelled like it. At the same time my situation changed, The Novice was going to be moving out of the apartment he and Landon shared, so I offered to take the room.


Luckily, I was only moving from one end of Uptown to the next (and actually, a better part, within walking distance to more bars), still this required a truck. After a desperate search, Calvin Crustitron had a friend who had one AND would help me move (I accused Landon of purposely being out of town on business so he wouldn’t be forced to participate). Still not anticipating the move in the frigid cold (we even had some arctic wind action), I cowboyed up, took two shots of ketel one and put on my long johns. Calvin’s friend was built like a spider monkey, sort of short but with a ton of upper body strength, formerly in the navy. Awesomely enough, Calvin’s friend not only works for the price of a bottle of Captain Morgan, but he’s also my neighbor and will be throwing a party this weekend. We are hoping to hook up Landon with one of the girls that lives in his house. Not only did I get help moving, but I gained a new drinking buddy.

The operation was overall successful, no thanks to the douchebag in my building who stole my (umm, well actually Landon’s) large can of mushrooms we were using to prop the door open. I hope that assbag gets botchelism. Also, I figured out why it was so fucking cold in the apartment on Monday. The Novice left the windows open. Dude, what the fuck? But at least he left us with his Spanish whorehouse curtains. Christ, I don’t know what we would’ve done without those.

Does Candy Even Have an Expiration Date?

You never really know how much shit you have until you are forced to move it. Then, you are given a religious-like experience where you find out what is actually important to you… important enough to wrap in bubble wrap, pack into a box, struggle with tape and then load into a truck, only to be forced to unload it and eventually unpack it. You ask yourself questions like “Do I REALLY need a Dolly Parton snow-globe? Hmmm, her top DOES come off…”

Yesterday I took the day off work to help LawyerMan finish moving into his new house, and it wasn’t so much an act of goodwill, as the fact that a good percentage of the crap needing to be moved was mine and I did not want it left behind for the squatters. The beginning stages of moving are always calm, well organized, and somewhat lackadaisical. The end is not; you’re just throwing random shit in a box (why wouldn’t a bathroom plunger, batteries, and coasters belong together?) so at the end, you’re left with your trashcans stacked inside each other, like Russian dolls, with the smallest of the three containing beanie babies and oven mitts.


Rather than move the contents of the liquor cabinet (hey, why add the extra stress?), I decided to take it upon myself to finish them off. I started off with alcohol that made sense to mix, like peach shnapps and banana rum. Towards the end, I was rethinking my decision, but made the best of the dregs of a bottle of kahlua and goldshlagger. This did make the moving experience more bearable. However, as the trick-or-treaters started to arrive last night, and I ran out of candy (Easter candy, if you were curious… kids are totally suspicious when you give them chocolate rabbits and marshmallow eggs for Halloween), I decided to start getting rid of some of the shit that Lawyerman and I didn’t need. Those ungrateful bastards… can you believe they weren’t interested in warped Tupperware and excess packaging tape? Hell, it's better than candy corn. They are lucky I didn't vomit in their bags of smarminess.