mama was a rollin' stone

I'm moving next week. In the past 5 years, if I include this time, I'll have moved three times. That might not seem like that many times to some (like say, a transient) but I absolutely hate moving and this third time that I have to pack up all my crap and figure out how to get it 8.1 miles from A to B is about as not fun as it can be.



I'm sick of the same old things I've had since I first moved out on my own, but too broke to buy newer, fancier things to get sick of. However, despite all the trials and annoyances of packing, I am definitely excited to be moving out of the ghetto. The other night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I was awakened by not one (which is alarming enough), not two (getting a little scarier) but FOUR gunshots in rapid succession, which signifies to me that the shooter meant business and/or had a semi-automatic weapon, and the shootee probably at the very least pissed his pants and at the very most got killed. At my new apartment, (if first impressions count for anything) the most troubling sound I'm going to hear at 11:30 PM will be those of the local geese getting gangbanged by some ganders. For that, I might even make popcorn.

In the spirit of getting rid of stuff that I've had around the house and not used for the past two years, I threw away a few dozen shampoo/conditioner/lotion samples that have been collecting in my bathroom, and have put some things up on Craigslist to see what might even make me a few bucks out of the deal. You know what they say about one man's shit being another man's treasure? Well, I sold a box of my childhood troll dolls for $30. It don't get more shit than that.

I also sold my couch last night, since I'll be taking Brian and Janessa's urine-soaked leather one instead. There is no better illustration of the way things have been going for me lately:

Brian: Do you want my sofa bed? It's leather.
Me, looking at my current ratty blue/tan/brown striped sofa bed covered in an ill-fitting black couch cover made white by the abundance of Shebe hairs: YES!
Janessa: Tibbsy has been pissing on it daily.
Me: ... what color leather?

Since I didn't really trust the guy coming to buy my couch and was slightly worried I'd only be inviting a stranger into my home to have the place cased and then robbed, I asked my dad to come over to look menacing. He failed when he immediately threw himself on the floor next to Sheba and started cuddling with her. But it was ok, because the guy showed up with his brother-in-law and a 2 year old. No robber/rapist brings a kid along, right? Unfortunately, the guy expected me to hold his child as he attempted to shove the couch out of my door. The last time I held a baby was in high school and that didn't go well either. The only way I know to hold anything over 6 pounds is the way I hold Sheba, so needless to say by the end of the ordeal, both me and the little boy were tearstained and crying for our daddies. But only one of us got $100 out of it, so take that, little Carlito!

I am now in the process of attempting to advertise the eleven Girls Gone Wild dvds left behind by an ex 21/2 years ago in a way that doesn't get them immediately pulled from Craigslist. I've gotten some nibbles...but if the buyer wants to come to my house to pick up, something tells me I'm not going to be able to ask my dad to chaperone.