Moving ho
First of all) Everytime I'm walking out of Target downtown -- through the revolving doors - some asshat getting in just before me promptly exits the revolving door and stands there. Just... stands there. Um, HELLO! We're moving here people. I can't even tell you how many times I've had that door all up 'n in my buznass because I can't exit. I'm begging everyone to please learn revolving door etiquette and promptly follow all rules and regulations. Thank you for your bitch-ass cooperation and please exit forward.
Second of all) Since when did the song "Tonight, Tonight" by Smashing Pumpkins turn in to the song "Disarm"? It has come to my disturbed attention they are in fact NOT the same song. But damnit, THEY SHOULD BE!
Third of all) You may now refer to me as m-The-Supercalafragelisticexpialadoshious-Dogg. Not only am I recovering from that incident that landed me in the hospital, but I packed so much even a mafia hitman would have been proud (get it? packed?!!!!). The fruits of my labor:
Steve, Raphael, and B.O.B. will be happy to know that's the entirety of what's being moved on Saturday. Well that and a purple chair, a small rolling table, my bed, 2 dressers, and about 8 duffelbages full of clothes, towels, sheets, and various bits and bobs. I've officially cleaned everything except my room, which because of my rock-star lifestyle means it will *definitely* be waiting until Wednesday or Thursday evening. Even my plants are packed and ready to go. Probably hard to make out in the picture but they're bagged and ready to be smoked, FUCK, I mean moved:
Ho ho ho, what's that Margaret? You cleaned 80% of the apartment spin and spac?! How marvelous! Yes, I am one determined mo-fo when it comes to affairs that hit close to home - um, in this case literally. Not only am I anal retentively packed and organized but cleaning has commenced, climaxed, and now close to whipping out a cigarette to enjoy the high of the whole experience. 'Twill be a lovely week, don't you think?