Hello Internets My Old Friend
I have ordered DSL service for my new apartment, but given the track record of Qwest it could be weeks before it gets hooked up. Fortunately, even though I no longer live at the Keathly’s house, they don’t seem to mind when I ask if I can come over, do a load of laundry, and pilfer their internet for a couple of hours.
You might ask me how my new apartment is. I might answer you in the affirmative, but the superlative, for I have been overwhelmed by how much I like my new apartment. Hardwood floors, walking around in my underpants, cooking bacon with impunity — these are the things that leave me with a big grin.
I can’t thank Lisa, Stan, and Noah enough for being my surrogate family. Do they know?
Sarah spent the weekend at my apartment with me. I have discovered that I can’t hang a picture straight without her. I had plenty of chances to find that out while we framed and hung a metric ton of photos and other images, including a glorious Blood Ocean poster featuring a tsunami of blood.
I rented for the location, but I hadn’t done anything in my neighborhood until this weekend. Chandler had a piece in the Cultivate: 25 Under 25 show at the Stevens Square Center for the Arts. Sarah and I walked the single block to the show, ogled some art, and led Donald and Chandler back the lone block to my apartment. I would have pictures, but I can’t find any of my card readers. Argh. I think that everyone had a good time. I sure did.
Sarah and I woke up just in time to make bacon and frittatas. The kitchen is tight but reasonably functional. It’s a good thing that Sarah and I are awfully friendly, though.
After breakfast, Lisa, Stan, and Noah came over to visit. Then my mom and her husband, John showed up bearing glassware. We boys slipped away to assemble the futon frame that I had gotten from my mom, then we all reassembled to watch Noah bounce off the walls.
Noah wants to have a sleepover at my house. I think that I have a little more childproofing to do, but I’m excited.
In the meantime, I don’t have to childproof to do Sarah sleepovers. She just curls up next to me and keeps me from coming apart at the seams.
Okay, that’s about it for the moment. My laundry is dry and even though there is another unwatched Law and Order on the Tivo it is time to go home. I hope you’re well and warm.
Just don’t have any Michaeld Jackson style sleepovers…
also, WTF, WHERE THE F DID YOU F-ING GET AN F-ING BLOOD F-ING OCEAN F-ING POSTER? OMGWTFBBQ.
Yes, we know.
So happy about your new place.
You deserve the niceness.
As soon as you mentioned the name “Chandler” the rest of the entry was washed in guitar riff scene breaks and perky coffee shops.
Oh, and congrats for finding some of my internet entrails on facebook. You’ll find that I’m scattered quite a bit along the webway: an arm in myspace, a leg at blogger, fingers and toes are scattered through a few message boards (with varying identities), a few dissociated personalities lie in about half-a-dozen handles of livejournal and greatestjournal alike, as well as the old old archives of opendiary (remember that one?), and if you’re looking for a writer monsterjob has been incredibly useless to me.
clap-clap-clap-clap
E.M.: It wasn’t so much tracking you down as facebook looking through my gmail (at my request) and finding people who were in my gmail but not my facebook.
Or something.
Also, Chandler doesn’t look much like her namesake, Other Chandler.
Jesse: I have no idea what you just said. But it doesn’t matter as I didn’t care one way or another. I think you said something like…facebook was poking about your gmail and picking me up and plopping you in your…facebook. Facebook sure does poke a lot.
The guitar riffs can be found between the lines.
Actually, they’re in a new separate set of lines in my head. You are very snazzy in my head. Man purses and lesbian girlfriends. You should see it! It’s…actually it’s already tired. Man, you can only take friends in drops. Like acid.
E.M.: Fortunately (or unfortunately) for me, my current girlfriend is not a lesbian.