Rickin' frickin' frackin' mackin' bickin' rickin'...
Yes, much like Yosemite Sam, the cursing has started in full force. I'm moving upstairs!! Yep, in my boldest move ever--even bolder than the slightly down the block move I made in 2000--I'm moving mere feet away from my current dwelling. The apartment upstairs has opened up, and as it's a much better space with laundry, more room and an even better view of the cement, I decided to take it. However, I'm having a bit of a problem accepting that I'm moving and actually doing stuff like: packing, changing my address with various companies, ensuring that my phone will be hooked up, cleaning. In two sweet days I'm going to have one of the most disorganized moves ever!! Yah!!
Thank god for friends and classmates though. Since I'm only heading upstairs, it makes absolutely no sense to hire movers, so my peeps are gonna come and help out. It's always so weird to have someone come and move your stuff around. I mean, it's not like I'm getting them to assist in 'reburying' the bodies or help with the teardown of my porno studio or anything, but still... I'm not sure what I'm most sensitive about-my sad collection of bodice-ripper romance novels that I read when I have the flu or a cold, my full collection of Danzig and Rammstein CD's, my many half-assed attempts at paintings and models or my hand-towel-sized undies!! Oh hell, it's all of the above!!!
Regardless, they've accepted, I'll lay in some treats and soda, and we shall move!! Soon I'll be upstairs worrying about my dry-cleaning company and complaining about the zebra's and honkies downstairs. And if you don't know what that refers to, then you're either too young or too behind on your pop culture to read this blog any further.
DE-LUXE APARTMENT, HERE I COME!
Venus-in-the-sky-with-laundry-Fangs
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