Archive for June, 2005
I had to sleep on a couch last night.
The couch had been at my dad’s office for years and they finally decided to get rid of it. My dad decided that he would take it home.
It’s comfortable enough, and it’s much longer than other couches, so I actually fit onto it without my legs hanging over the end or my head being contorted at an angle that makes chiropractors salivate.
But it gave me weird dreams.
In my first dream my 5 year old cousin was possessed and he was slowly turning into a demon. The only way we could help him was by finding the demons that were hiding in my grandparents’ house and stop them from performing all the human sacrifices. My brain sacred the crap out of me when I walked up the steps that were serving as a sluice for the sticky ribbons of blood that were cascading down.
In my second dream I was running around trying to pick Mike’s Hard Lemonade caps up off of the floor. I had a huge armful, but then I’d find more caps and have to try to hold on to them. It was very frustrating.
Analyze as you see fit.
As soon as I walked into my parents’ house yesterday I was immediately reminded of all the reasons I needed to get out of there in the first place. The most important reason was that I enjoyed my occasional moments of sanity and lucidity, and those moments would become fewer and further between if I had kept living with the rents.
So I moved out, one year ago actually, with no plan of ever living with my parents again. I grew up a crapload* while I was living in the apartment in Baltimore, and my parents’ house was beginning to feel less and less like home. Even though I never called the apartment “home” I stopped calling my parents’ house “home” and started calling it my parent’s house.
I’d say I’ve been homeless for about 6 months now. I’m not sure when the new place is going to be “home” but I’m sure it won’t take long once ACWF and I have “christened” all the rooms, major appliances, and furniture in the house.
I digress. What sucks about living with my parents for these days is the lack of control. My refrigerator at the apartment was stocked with lean protein and high fiber bread. Not at my parents’ house. The cereal was low sugar and high in fiber and protein. Not at my parents’ house. The milk was skim. The fruits and veggies were plentiful. The fat was nearly nonexistent. Not. At. My. Parents’. House.
I managed to scavenge a can of tuna fish for lunch today. I ate it with some mustard packets. I then ate some almonds that had been in my manpurse for about 3 months. Then I ate the contents of 2 more mustard packets. I just squirted them into my mouth.**
I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through the next couple of days. I guess I’ll just have to stock up on mustard packets.
*Use of the word “crapload” pretty much negates any growing up I may have done.
**Apparently you haven’t done any growing up either.
Last night I moved out of my apartment. I had some great helpers, and they were so efficient that they packed things like my phone charger, my belts, and the keys to the new house. I have no idea where any of these things are in the jumble that is my personal property.
Luckily, we still don’t know when we’re going to be moving in to the new place* so we have lots of time (or not) to find these things.
Anyway, I went to pick up the truck at Uhaul last night, and it was a beast. It was dented and scratched all over, and I didn’t buy the insurance so I made the Uhaul guy come out and look at the truck and acknowledge via signature that it was in perfect condition for a demolition derby.
I got on the road and immediately noticed that the steering was jacked up. The steering wheel could be turned between 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock without any significant change in direction. However, once the wheel reached the 10 or 2 position it would immediately jerk the truck in that direction. I spent the entire time driving the truck like a pinball, bouncing between the borders of my lane, imagining that I looked like I was driving in one of those old movies where they project the road behind the actor and the actor mindlessly guides the steering wheel of the fake car.
Once I pulled up to my apartment we started loading things right away. There were some nasty clouds on the horizon and they were heading our way. We made quick work of the boxes and started moving art and furniture as fast as we could. We had to pause for a few minutes when the downpour started downpouring, but once it had passed we easily moved the rest through the afterbirth of the thunderstorm.
Once we got on the road I flipped on the windshield wipers and headed for our destination. After the wipers had been on for about 30 seconds they stopped working. I flipped out. I couldn’t drive in the rain without any wipers! God damnit you Uhaul bastards! They started working again a few minutes later, and after that I spent the entire trip willing the wipers to work whenever they would freeze in the middle of my field of vision.
Once we got to ACWF’s parents’ house, where we were going to store everything until the second move, we started unloading. Once we got a few boxes off the truck we noticed that they were wet. A few boxes later and it was clear that some of the boxes had definitely gotten soaked. The mattress and the couch also got wet.
I was pissed. Why the fuck would I pay for this retarded fucking truck to keep my shit dry when I could have packed everything in a few pickup trucks and gotten the same soaking result. Fucking whores.
Once I finally got to my parents’ house I was ready for bed. I went to sleep around 12 or so, and woke up at 8am so I could let the BGE guy come in and turn off the power. BGE said he would be there between 8am and 12pm. Kmart and I spent the morning packing the last of our stuff (mostly cleaning supplies for me. Clothes and stuff for him.) and cleaning the apartment. Once the BGE guy got there at 9:30, we were almost done, so we wrapped up the last of the stuff to move, cleaned our tracks and started to head out.
As we were grabbing the giant 8000 btu AC unit out of the window the apartment tried to take a little chunk of Kmart. He was being all bleedy, so I had to do the rest of the cleaning and all the heavy lifting.
We finally got everything outside and I got the last set of keys from Kmart. I took them over to the rental office and explained the BGE situation. They weren’t too happy. Apparently they own the house and they have a contract with BGE to just roll the power over to the next renter and bill the previous renter with an estimate or final meter reading. Now the new renters will have to pay $100 bucks to turn the power back on today because BGE didn’t tell me that they weren’t supposed to turn the power off in the first place. Fuckers.
But it’s almost over now, and at least all my problems aren’t the types of problems that plague third world nations. In a way, I’m lucky to have these problems.
No excuse me while I get Uhaul to give me a fucking refund.
*We had an agreement where the seller could rent the house back from us but not pay any rent while doing so. We did this to make our contract more appealing. It worked. At first she said she’d be out by the 5th. Then at settlement she said she’d be out by the 1st. We just want to know when she’s going to be out so we can rent a moving truck.
When I called the cable television company to tell them that I wouldn’t be needing my service after June 30th they first tried to figure out exactly where I was moving so they could continuing to bed me over the television set with their monopolistic and outrageous pricing schedules.
I told them I was moving out of the city and into another county and they were hamstrung. How pathetic can a company be if it can’t simply offer me service where I’m moving. They had to defer to a specific cable office of theirs within the county limits.
The good thing is there is also another cable company in that county, and where there is competition there is a reduction in price. I look forward to calling each company up and having them try to outprice the other one until I have an offer for unlimited cable with all the extra channels, unlimited 100Mbps cable internet*, and bi-monthly blowjobs for $25.95 per month.
Part of the reason I want them to have to sink to this level is because they forced me to do their dirty work for them. We had to pack up the cable box, modem, and remote control and take it back to them on our own. Of course I had to do it in the middle of the work day because they don’t have reasonable hours. Horrible bastards.
As I was waiting in line I noticed that they didn’t have a gap big enough in the bullet-proof glass that lined the service desks to pass a cable box through to the other side.** After determining that I was indeed the person who rented the equipment they instructed me to go around and through to the other side of the lobby where they had a little room hidden. In that room was a mountain of equipment. I passed the cable box, modem, and remote through the cable box sized hole in the wall of bullet-proof glass, the woman threw my equipment on the pile and gave me a receipt.
All in all, it wasn’t too bad, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the guy behind me in line had murdered 10 people at the cable office today.
*You know they have it and they’re just not giving it to us.
**I now know exactly why they have bullet-proof glass. Think DMV but lazier and dumber.
Kmart and I have been living in Baltimore for about a year or so. I wanted to live in the city, and he needed a place close to his school, so we buddied up. If you think that sounds less than hetero, you’re probably right.
We’ve spent the last year in a semi-constant state of juvenile behavior and surprisingly grown-up living habits. Anyone who saw us at a happy hour would be shocked to see our pantries and refrigerator stocked with high-fiber, low-fat, low-sugar, high-protein foods. We do have some junk food lying around from time to time, but by no means did we reflect the stereotypical bachelor lifestyle.
Well, except for the never-ending string of women aged 18-24 that always emerged from Kmart’s bedroom with tousled hair and unsteady legs. That was kind of bachelory of him.
In an effort to encapsulate the time we spent together I will now present a list of things that could regularly be heard around the apartment.
- Touch-a touch-a my peener
- You’ve got a dirty butt
Actually, those are pretty much the only two things of any substance we said to each other.
It’s sad, really.
I think what I’ll miss the most is the goof-offery. Never have I spent so much time watching crazy TV shows, bad movies, or playing so many video games.
I’ll miss you buddy.
But I won’t miss your nipple pinching. Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?
P.S. I’m still the best at Amped.
So, I wanted to post something here so it wouldn’t look like I was bragging about my traffic in the post below (thanks for maaking me paranoid Snay) but I couldn’t think of anything to post.
That means that I now have a post that asks you to not look at the post below which is like saying in a restaurant, “Oh a guy with two heads just walked in. Don’t look at him!”
So. Uh. Look at this post. Not that one. I’m an idiot.
I just recently surpassed 20,000 hits, and 30,000 page views. Back when I started blogging I never thought that I would approach anything close to this amount of traffic.
I kind of figured that my little brother, Mokiejovis, would hit the site from time to time and make some rude remark in the comments, or that my fiance (then girlfriend) ACWF would begrudgingly read the blog once a week or so.
But this… this is too cool.
Now I have friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers making rude remarks in my comments and begrudgingly reading the blog once a week or so.
I’m not sure why you all keep coming back*, but I appreciate the fact that you are all a bunch of masochists and this is the easiest way to punish yourself on a daily basis. Hell, I bet some of you had credit card bills in the thousands from online BDSM sites before you found my blog. Your bank account, and I, thank you.
*Actually, I’m sure why Zenchick keeps coming back. I’m like her daily litmus test for her future incontinence.
Linda tagged me with the six most important songs meme.
Here goes:
1) Beulah- Emma Blowgun’s Last Stand
2) Cake- Mexico
3) Badly Drawn Boy- Shining
4) Weezer- Mykel and Carli
5) Johnny Cash- Hurt (cover. Original by Trent Reznor)
6) Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros- X-ray Style
Hon. Mention) Grateful Dead- Uncle John’s Band
I’m not going to tag anyone.
A while ago I posted about how songs can have a certain effect on me. It’s sort of a tugging feeling. I feel like the music has a hand, and the hand slips under my skin, past my muscles, slides through the bones and settles, momentarily, on my lungs, heart, and stomach before ever-so-gently squeezing. It’s a remarkable feeling, really. It’s like being head-over-heels infatuated with someone, but to a lesser intensity. However, unlike the infatuation’s intensity, the music’s intensity never relinquishes. It feels brand new every time. All the songs above do that to me. Does this happen to anyone else?
