Nomad

Posted: September 23, 2008 in Uncategorized

First off let me tell you that I am abandoning the rest of my Caribbean Chronicles. I got to writing about the last three days and it was pretty much the same thing: drinking, eating, more drinking, hangover, and more drinking. After awhile it becomes boring and I made the executive decision to pull the plug on that pilot. I will say, however, that covering the lamp in my drunken stupor on Day 2 was not a hot idea. I managed to (or the lamp did rather) burn a hole all the way through not only a Kenneth Cole shirt, but a Michael Kors shirt as well. Moral of the story: don’t cover a hot lamp with expensive shirts.

Second, allow me to scream, as loud as I possibly can, that MOVING SUCKS!!! I am now moving for the third time in two years (not a good average at all) and each time I am reminded of how much I would rather be jabbing my eyeballs with dry toothpicks than playing nomad. How is it that one always has a ton of friends when one is throwing a party, but when one is moving, you become the loneliest person on the face of the planet? I’ve never seen so many people with family coming into town in the middle of September in my life. There also seems to be an unusual number of funerals this weekend. Most people go to a funeral mid-week to get out of work, not on a Saturday…strange.

People, if you don’t want to help me move, all you have to say is “Are you fucking kidding me?” when I ask, “Wanna help me move this weekend?” Don’t tell me your best friend’s husband’s great aunt’s cousin died in Minneapolis and you have to take a horse drawn carriage to get there. Such convenient excuses always set off my Nancy Drews and just makes me want to hit you in the head with the closest available heavy object. Or if no heavy object is available, give you a Wet Willy with a urine covered finger.

So, alas, I will be moving this weekend with very little assistance. I guess I could pay someone to come do it for me, but then of course I could always pay for sex as well. In either case I’d rather do it myself than pay for it.

So is there any tread left on the tires? Or at this point would it be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway?
–Stewie Griffin

LongStar

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Comments
  1. Molly Jane says:

    I have had 10 different addresses in the last six years. I feel your pain, sir. I feel your pain.

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