New roomies, new life, new horizons.

I have it on good authority that quoting other people is a fun and easy way of establishing instant credibility. Or it be gibberish, that's cool too. I'll give it a shot:

"Then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and reveling in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom."
-HP Lovecraft

Oh. That's sorta silly. Still, it was in the quote rotation and union rules are union rules buddy.

I'm writing this from the first time I've been able to relax. As some or none of you may know, I've just done the first half of life altering move. I'm moving from 3 miles and 5 minutes from the office to.. 45 mins with no traffic (middle of day) up to 1.5 hours each way. My lease isn't up til March 1st but the ladies, dear friends of my acquaintance with some passing familiarity, needed to be out by the last week of January. The man before you, who once was known only as the ButchDance Kid for the way he ran from any and all fights by pretending to dance in an overtly masculine style until escaping from the exit, stepped up to the plate.

He *editor's note, Bob is talking in the third person for no reason at all, please change to first person future perfect in your head to retain the original content* looked those beautiful ladies right in their eyes, after being asked to stop staring at their breasts, and told them we could make this work. As a team. Please don't get the restraining orders again, it makes things so awkward. A team that rubs moisturizing cream on each other. Also suntan lotion, since we live FEET from the beach. Oh crap, I'm gonna need to buy a shovel. There's a lot of sand piled up on the side of the house. I wonder where that crap goes?? Back to the beach across the street? Seems kind of pointless in a way. Oh well, the exercise will be awesome. Wait, where was I? Right, there is no me in team. But there totally is. That sentence will have to be cut.

Anywhoo it's getting late. I'm sorry, you loyal friends who still check back from time to time because you liked something I said or something shared or were paid to hang out with me, I'm looking at you Catherine. I know I've done nothing online in a long time. Going from being a loner, online alllllllll the times to now having a pseudo socially aware lifestyle, out doing actual things, has been very strange. I like it, but I sometimes miss being online by myself sometimes, the silly games and passing the time with very good friends.. but don't get me wrong. I wouldn't go back to that life under any circumstances, having tasted Fun, I shan't recant.

So this change is huge for me and today we had the movers do all the beds/insanely heavy stuff while we did the 'not crushing so I can probably get it to the truck' game. How well did we do? One roomie down w/ broken toe, the other one with a cameltoe, and me sitting on the old house's balcony, enjoying a final night/morning here. We will probably walk to breakfast.. right next door. I'll miss that place but will be back even if we have to drive. Or a boat, that would be swell.

See what I did there? Swell is a nautical term. Damn, I'm sweet.

Oh right, I was going to go now because it's freaking 5am and the only reason I'm awake is because I drank so much coffee this morning to get me through the day. Still have to put beds together tomorrow, so we have places to sleep before work.. which will be a vacation away from moving.

I'll try and post more, I miss reading blogs a lot, and feel like I don't have the right to read really until I post something. So this scratching on paper will get me some good reading privileges. Needless to say this is all in my head and probably irrational.

Oh! I know how I will leave you. With a KLASSY pic.. and since I already show my face in the title (mental note, get something cool), I figured I should post this. Be careful.. if you are not prepared for it, the sheer power of the pimpnosity might damage your vocal cords, as you scream out how god damned awesomely pimp I am.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

I'm so sorry. ps, sorry I keep updating, I'm really going to bed now, promise.

Fearsome anger

I just transcribed 4 old type-written letters for someone I care for.

I tried to remain neutral about the contents, which will be explored in detail in her blog, but I am so angry right now that I can't.

Rage.
Incomprehension.

How or why would a presumably grown man feel it is somehow a good idea to write these letters about a child?

Mailman, you complete me.

I got the best item ever in the mail. Words cannot describe it properly:



This is the Shock Ball. Remember "Hot Potato" where kids were forced to use their imaginations to pretend a ball was hot and toss it around? Well screw that, imagination is for the Muppet Babies


and I'm not Kermit. Though I do an awesome retarded Fozzie, ask GB.

I'm digressing, sorry. Back to SHOCK BALL OF AWE.

This is a very simple game. You put batteries in it. You try and remember if any of your friends recently had bypass surgery. If yes, do you really like them that much? While you ponder that, pull the pin and toss the ball. Possible ex-friend-to-be catches it.. and if he knows what's good for him he tosses it up again before electricity flows out of the approximate 374 metal contact points arrayed around the "Ball o' RAD" as we call it around the office.

Note, by office I mean "the voices that won't let me sleep and tell me to find Ann Heche and make her take me to the aliens/god/thetans".

After shocking myself silly, I had to look up the origin of Hot Potato. I make no promises on the veracity of this claim but here is what Wiki had to say:

"...it may go back as far as 1629 (puritan period) when Sidney Addy's Glossary of Sheffield Words describes a game in which a number of people sit in a row, or in chairs round a parlor. In this game, a lighted taper is handed to the first person, who says:

Jack's alive, and likely to live
If he dies in your hand, you've a forfeit to give.
The one in whose hand the light expires has to pay the forfeit."


Wow, passing around a candle until it goes out. History has completely misjudged the puritans.