Through a series of unfortunate and untimely events befitting the tabloid press, spot
and I decided it'd be in our best interests to relocate. Our landlord informed us that they owned another property in the Hollywood Hills and had a unit available for immediate move-in. Much like that time Sony offered me a three-picture deal, I was like, "Hell yes, let's do this!"
The first thing we had to do was have our landlord come in and do a quick walkthrough of our old apartment so they could get an idea of what repairs were necessary. She brought in her mother with her as well, who also serves as our building's "manager." I put quotes around manager because calling her a manager is like calling Carlos Mencia a comedian. I mean technically he is a comedian but I feel as a general rule comedians should be, you know, funny. That's about how she is as a manager. Plus she's around 80 to 85 years old and Armenian (no speaka de English) which doesn't help things.
Anyways, they came in and discussed stuff with us and then the two of them started speaking Armenian to each other. Right then I was thinking, "Oh, we're gonna get fucked on the deposit." I'm still waiting to hear on the outcome of that. I should learn to speak Armenian. I'm not going to, ever. But I should.
So the weekend we had to move may have been quite possibly the worst moving conditions in the history of mankind. It got up to just a shade below 100 degrees with about 55% humidity. The only way it could have been worse was if maybe one of us had had like a broken arm or something during the move. Or mono. All right, there's plenty of things that could have made it worse. Bottom line is it sucked monkey balls.
Special thanks to channelcat
and his girlfriend for lending a few extra hands.
Whenever you move there's always that one guy who lives in your apartment that you run into. You're maybe unloading a box of stuff into a truck outside and he asks, "Are you moving?" What else would I be doing? "No, my roommate and I just decided to pack up all our shit and put it in this truck. We're not actually moving, though. Once we pack it all in here we're going to unload it and put it back into our apartment like it was. Why are doing it? Eh, we're just fucking around. Because we can."
It's probably the same person who points out that you have a zit on your face. Like you didn't know it. You walk into a party or something and run into him and that's the first thing he says. "You've got a huge zit on your forehead." "No shit? I was wondering why my face was hurting like that. It's probably right
here, isn't it? That was just a lucky guess."
I found myself there alone late on Saturday night grabbing some remaining trinkets and knickknacks when the power went out. I don't care how tough you are, you feel like a scared child when you're alone and the power goes out for a couple of seconds. Some sort of primal instinct just kicks in. I'm a little disappointed that after all these years of human evolution the best thing I can muster is cowering like a frightened puppy.
So I said screw this game I quit and I decided to retire back to my new air conditioned apartment. On my way to my car I ran into one of my comedian friends who lives in the next building outside with some of his neighbors. It turns out the power had gone out on the entire block. He was outside playing Boggle with a few of his neighbors, trying to beat the heat. I joined in.
Did I say I joined in? What I meant to say was I took those motherfarkers to school. It was like I was Drexel and this was my class (I feel sorry for you if you don't know that reference). I wound up winning the game even though I had joined late. I got mad word skillz, yo!
You should have seen me. I was like, "Does anyone have pewter? No? Ok, what about elephant? Anybody got that? Didn't think so. And if you don't have that then obviously you don't have telephone either." Elephant spelled backwards is telephone. Don't know if you knew that.
The next day we had the unpleasant task of cleaning our apartment, which by my estimate had not been thoroughly cleaned in approximately three years. If you're at all familiar with the hodgepodge of roommates I've had you may have an understanding of what we had to endure. Remember kids: don't do heroin. Seriously.
Cleaning went on for quite some time as was expected. The most notable thing I found while cleaning the place were three shirts underneath the kitchen sink. This may not seem like much since oftentimes old shirts will be used as a cleaning rag and there's really not much of a better place to put a rag than underneath the kitchen sink. However, these were not rags. These were nice shirts. I remember one of them was a woman's blouse from Express.
For the life of me, I cannot fathom why someone would put a nice shirt underneath the kitchen sink. There is no hypothetical situation that would warrant that. I mean sometimes you're cleaning your place real fast and you just kinda throw shit wherever it will go. As long as it's out of sight it's out of mind.
But underneath the kitchen sink? I mean that requires a certain amount of effort that seems to negate the entire aforementioned hypothesis. I trace the shirts back to my first roommate. Remember kids: say no to heroin. There are drugs, and then there are drugs
My new place is a definite upgrade. We now have air conditioning! I get a boner every time I walk into my apartment now, it's so exciting. I know what you're saying, "Haha, I get it. You're really excited about finally having air conditioning. Oh Doug, that's just a silly joke." No, I actually become sexually aroused when I walk into my apartment. There's no joke here. I'm serious.
The laundry machine is just down the stairs, too. I don't have to walk down three flights of stairs and turn a dark scary corner anymore. Of course I don't need to use a washing machine anyways because I can just use my fucking abs. It's a washboard down there. My T-shirts actually get cleaned when I wear them. It's pretty awesome but then again, so am I.
Anyone want to help me out with rent? Seriously. Me bad need money.On a more serious note
It seems everyone around me has been getting cancer. It's become quite the trend. I wish I knew why this was so popular. Getting cancer might be the worst fad in the world, second maybe only to trucker hats and Uggz
. Always be thankful for what you have and please, don't ever take life for granted. Live life to its fullest because your time can come at any time.
I also recommend having a colonscopy done every couple of years. That's where a doctor sticks a camera up your rear end and looks around. You never know what they may find up there: tumors, polyps, long lost Beatles demo tapes, etc. It may be uncomfortable but it could also save your life, as was the case with my mom. Luckily, they caught hers early enough. Others aren't so lucky. It's tough to see the people you love in that condition.
Also, make sure you have a doctor do it and not some random dude you find on the street with a camcorder because, well nevermind.