These things, I have done for you...
29.8.03
Movin' 2: Electri-- Motherfucker, I hate that joke, why are you using it?
So, on the Monday we were to move into the new place Adrienne calls the realtor about getting the keys and he tells her that the tennants shitted the place up pretty bad, but that they'd been in to clean it every day since they'd moved out (3 days). This last part gave us hope that the house wouldn't smell like cat piss and cigarette smoke. Actually, it didn't. In fact, we had no idea the place would smell of cigarette and piss (from Chanel). But smell of cigarette and cat piss it did. Among other things. Turns out the previous tenants also had a rabbit. And a dog. All God's creatures done pissed in this house (including skank-ass Madonna, which we can't confirm but can safely assume). After several Febrezings and sprinkling magic carpet dust and vacuuming it up, the smell has somewhat abated, but that may just be that I'm getting used to it. And then there were the many tiny holes in the walls and ceilings, and the basement that was partially flooded because the guys before us managed to clog the drain for the A/C condensation. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU GET CAT HAIR IN THAT DRAIN? It's in the utility room, a room in which a cat has no business. And the 2 feet by 1 foot hole in the drywall in the living room. And the safety orange spraypaint stain in the second bedroom! WHY WERE YOU SPRAYPAINTING IN YOUR BEDROOM? MORON! I'm bored. I want hamburgers. Screw you guys, I'm out of here.
23.8.03
The Spooky Move of Spooky Doom! Part 1
Yes, I am finally in the new place. I even have Transformers on my desk. But it was not always this way. Oh no. We spent a week at our friend Alison's while she was out of town, housesitting and dogsitting. At one point during our stay, Adrienne left on the kitchen table a bag of those new mint 'n creme Oreos out of which she had eaten maybe two cookies. The dog ate all of them. An ounce shy of a pound of chocolate and minty creme goodness. Now, I don't know if you know this or not, but Oreos aren't even meant for human consumption. It's a little known fact that Oreos were created for the express purpose of feeding them to farm animals to fatten them up and have them die of a stoppage of bloodflow due to blockage of the arteries by creme. But since "creme" wasn't actually an English word at the time, farmers didn't buy it, and thus RalstonpurinabiscolgatepalmolivePepsico was forced to sell it in grocery stores. So, in addition to being bad on a general level, they also contain chocolate, which tends to kill or cause extreme intestinal distress to canines. Luckily the dog, being a 60-pound labrador, didn't die. But she did have very much bad stinky gas for the next few days. This is the story of staying at Alisons. Stay tuned for part 2: The House of 1000 Odors.
20.8.03
5.8.03
Frankly, I'm rooting for the crocodile.
Thanks to Tavie, I found out about this:
The Golden Girls, LIVE! PERFORMED BY GUYS! DRESSED AS OLD WOMEN!
This is a crime against man and nature. No one. NO ONE is Sophia except Estelle Getty! Not even if Peter Mac is an octagenerian XY clone-baby of Estelle Getty in drag. I don't care if Bea Arthur is older than she is, just damn-ass look at her! She totally carried the show. And don't get me started on having anyone replace Betty White (also older than Getty). ...That said, "The Girl's [sic] Get Robbed" is an awesome episode.
By the way, I'm pretty sure you can clone people to come out 80 years old.
Also, this infatuation with Estelle Getty doesn't make me gay. I just feel that her career has been much maligned post-Stop, or My Mom Will Shoot!.
2.8.03
Picture!
I gots a picture! But it is the suck because I spent five minutes on it and also it's not very wide because, look, I am not smart with the HTML's. And I can't get rid of the colorsing spotses on the bottoms. An' I can't make the <>'s go away in the title. I swear, if I could, I'd be typing backwards "S"s in my words by now. Someone with the HTML skillz0rz or whatever you kids call them, can you help?
1.8.03
Movin' on . . . up, or sideways. In *some* direction at any rate. There is velocity of some sort.
Most of tonight was spent packing. All my Transformers are off my desk and in boxes, which means I have nothing to play with while I download and wait for crap on my computer. Books are also, for the most part, in boxes. Eugh, there is so much crap, I honestly don't know how we'll get it done before Friday. I think this weekend may be filled with throwing out priceless and treasured slips of paper from that one time, when I did that thing . . . with those people.
Buttons! Red ones!
I now have more buttons and banners than I do entries. But screw you, go make your own damn webpage that you'll never update.
