(no subject)
It has been a little over two weeks since I hammered out one of these entries. The last entry enmeshed so many in controversy that I almost feel like I can't outdo myself. So, perhaps I'll just do that boring shit and write about what's going on in my life.
Come December, I will no longer reside at 99 Custer St, Apartment 2B. I resign knowing full well what wonderful weather was in store for the Custer winter. I won't miss sleeping in every shred of fabric I own, face three inches from a space heater, living in fear of the oncoming illness. Equal reverence is due to the bathroom, a place where one is supposed to get clean yet emerges immersed in dirt, piss, cathair, and ceiling shards without ever getting to wipe one's ass because there is never any toilet paper available. The kitchen cried a tear when I told it that my culinary stylings of "spice and more spice," would be leaving soon. When the cookbook "Spice and More Spice, A Cupboard's Journey," sees the printing press, surely, 99 Custer's range will receive a shout out. The house sheds it's siding in sadness over my departure.
However, even though the conditions of the house make the filth in Calcutta an attractive option, I will miss the sufferers I leave behind, not unlike Mother Teresa herself. Canonization not included in purchase price. We have seen good and bad times, had a lot of fun and a lot more fun at Derek Neuland's expense. Overall, I place living with you fellows in the column marked "NEVER AGAIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE." Seriously, I enjoyed the camraderie and spirit of the house even at it's lowest points. You will be missed and no, you may not sleep over in the warmth of my new apartment. Anyway, if anyone is interested in shacking up with the hot dudes in 99 Custer (decidedly less hot in the wake of my departure), get in touch with them. No, I can't tell you how, that's part of the initiation.
Anyway, the new place looks "phat." It's about a blocklength from Sit and Spin which makes working much easier and more attractive. No more getting up an hour and a half before scheduled work time, I can now safely wake up fifteen minutes before and still have time to shower. Hooray for laziness and not having to drive anywhere. I don't think I need to mention the fact that the ceiling stays in it's place without the need to occasionally visit the floor and the siding does not touch the ground as part of a calisthenic routine. Actually, there isn't siding at all. It's brickface and stucco, not unlike the song by the Lunachicks, who I saw once and the only thing I remember from their show (aside from the hideous nature of the players in the band) is two of their song titles, one being "Brickface and Stucco," and the other "Shit-finger-dick." Needless to say, Lunachicks' sections in record stores everywhere are safe tonight. I should hire someone full time to blow the dust bunnies from those CDs. Anyway, the apartment is lovely and will house myself and Martin and I feel that we should be able to live peacefully together and make our friendship work as it used to years ago. It has suffered in recent years and needs to be resurrected to it's former glory.
In other news, the Xbox launch has been delayed a week, so I will now get it on the 15th instead of the 8th. I called yesterday to Electronics Boutique, secretly hoping Frank Vicario would answer, and asked when it would be available to someone not named Frank who fired back a shitty attitude like "what? are you some kind of fucking moron? it's been pushed back a week, dipshit!" Well, he responded more politely and I said "thank you for the information, sir. Inform Frank to reform Shenoem." Well, I said all that except for the last line because Shenoem sucked too.
In news other than the other aforementioned news, I still love the piss out of Jill. It's a secret blend, she tells me. She said the secret had to do with mass consumption of water chestnuts. No, seriously, she's a wonderful girl and means the world to me. I'm such a "sad sappy sucker," sometimes, although I haven't heard the record of the same name by the artist Modest Mouse. My intuition tells me that there are like 9 bad songs to 3 really good songs as seems to be the Modest Mouse crap to success ratio. Modest Mouse aside, Jill rules and don't you all wish you had one just like her? The answer, by the way, is yes.
In news related to a story we brought you just seconds ago, I generally hate reading about people's relationships and how wonderful they are, so, look past my hypocrisy for a few seconds.
BREAKING NEWS, this journal entry is totally ending right here.
Come December, I will no longer reside at 99 Custer St, Apartment 2B. I resign knowing full well what wonderful weather was in store for the Custer winter. I won't miss sleeping in every shred of fabric I own, face three inches from a space heater, living in fear of the oncoming illness. Equal reverence is due to the bathroom, a place where one is supposed to get clean yet emerges immersed in dirt, piss, cathair, and ceiling shards without ever getting to wipe one's ass because there is never any toilet paper available. The kitchen cried a tear when I told it that my culinary stylings of "spice and more spice," would be leaving soon. When the cookbook "Spice and More Spice, A Cupboard's Journey," sees the printing press, surely, 99 Custer's range will receive a shout out. The house sheds it's siding in sadness over my departure.
However, even though the conditions of the house make the filth in Calcutta an attractive option, I will miss the sufferers I leave behind, not unlike Mother Teresa herself. Canonization not included in purchase price. We have seen good and bad times, had a lot of fun and a lot more fun at Derek Neuland's expense. Overall, I place living with you fellows in the column marked "NEVER AGAIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE." Seriously, I enjoyed the camraderie and spirit of the house even at it's lowest points. You will be missed and no, you may not sleep over in the warmth of my new apartment. Anyway, if anyone is interested in shacking up with the hot dudes in 99 Custer (decidedly less hot in the wake of my departure), get in touch with them. No, I can't tell you how, that's part of the initiation.
Anyway, the new place looks "phat." It's about a blocklength from Sit and Spin which makes working much easier and more attractive. No more getting up an hour and a half before scheduled work time, I can now safely wake up fifteen minutes before and still have time to shower. Hooray for laziness and not having to drive anywhere. I don't think I need to mention the fact that the ceiling stays in it's place without the need to occasionally visit the floor and the siding does not touch the ground as part of a calisthenic routine. Actually, there isn't siding at all. It's brickface and stucco, not unlike the song by the Lunachicks, who I saw once and the only thing I remember from their show (aside from the hideous nature of the players in the band) is two of their song titles, one being "Brickface and Stucco," and the other "Shit-finger-dick." Needless to say, Lunachicks' sections in record stores everywhere are safe tonight. I should hire someone full time to blow the dust bunnies from those CDs. Anyway, the apartment is lovely and will house myself and Martin and I feel that we should be able to live peacefully together and make our friendship work as it used to years ago. It has suffered in recent years and needs to be resurrected to it's former glory.
In other news, the Xbox launch has been delayed a week, so I will now get it on the 15th instead of the 8th. I called yesterday to Electronics Boutique, secretly hoping Frank Vicario would answer, and asked when it would be available to someone not named Frank who fired back a shitty attitude like "what? are you some kind of fucking moron? it's been pushed back a week, dipshit!" Well, he responded more politely and I said "thank you for the information, sir. Inform Frank to reform Shenoem." Well, I said all that except for the last line because Shenoem sucked too.
In news other than the other aforementioned news, I still love the piss out of Jill. It's a secret blend, she tells me. She said the secret had to do with mass consumption of water chestnuts. No, seriously, she's a wonderful girl and means the world to me. I'm such a "sad sappy sucker," sometimes, although I haven't heard the record of the same name by the artist Modest Mouse. My intuition tells me that there are like 9 bad songs to 3 really good songs as seems to be the Modest Mouse crap to success ratio. Modest Mouse aside, Jill rules and don't you all wish you had one just like her? The answer, by the way, is yes.
In news related to a story we brought you just seconds ago, I generally hate reading about people's relationships and how wonderful they are, so, look past my hypocrisy for a few seconds.
BREAKING NEWS, this journal entry is totally ending right here.