"Oh, Mister Floyd. Will you be gracin us with your presence today?"
So: We are moving. This is the central fact of the Gleemonex Family's existence at this time, to the exclusion of pretty much all else (including our 12th wedding anniversary, which was yesterday, which we celebrated by packing boxes all day long).
The move is awesome and groovy -- we're going from the tiny 3/1 windswept house at the edge of the continent to this bigass 4/3 Spanish-style thing with palm trees and a pool and good schools down at the southern end of the Silicon Valley, and we are really excited. WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SUMMER AND IT IS GOING TO BE AWESOME. I have been ballz-freezing cold for about thirteen years now, ever since we moved to SF in the summer of '98 and I'm fucking sick of it. Side note, you folks in the SF bay area or possibly also Manhattan island likely find it unremarkable that we are first-time homeowners at the age of 37, while you Midwesterners and Southerners are like, Finally growin up, are ya? Real estate here is fucking Krazy Kart Death Race, I'm telling you.
But anyway. So there's like a million Guys you have to call (carpet guys, carpet measuring guys, fumigation guys, fumigation prep guys, palm tree care guys, PG&E guys, water guys, garbage guys, chimney inspection guys, cable guys, armpit hair remediation guys, what the fuck EVER) and so many boxes to pack ... we've lived here nearly seven years ... you open a closet and BLACK DESPAIR pierces your heart, no kidding. We ever move out of this new joint, we're selling it as is, furnished and with our names still on the utility bills because FUCK IT.
Oh, and also, grave issues with the health of a member of my family of origin have required me to make a visit back to Olde Cowburg right in the middle of all this. Plus the job search. Plus there's international travel in early May (which, again, I am totally psyched about, but could we ADD more complications right this second? I keep thinking of that line from "Just," where Yorke is going "You do it to yourself, you do, and that's what really hurts ...").
To illustrate how completely the moving has taken over our brains, I will share a story.
Me and Mr. Gleemonex are crashed out watching the Yankees. Joba Chamberlain's pitching. We start bagging on him, as always:
"Been working on that Power Eating plan all winter, eh?"
"It looks like he's wearing a turtleneck made of a whole nother guy."
"Lookit those JOWLS. What the hell is in there?"
"He looks like Artie Lange."
And neither of us came up with the obvious. Maybe that's because we are Sophisticates who shy away from the obvious on principle. Or maybe it's because our brains are fucking fried. Either way.
The move is awesome and groovy -- we're going from the tiny 3/1 windswept house at the edge of the continent to this bigass 4/3 Spanish-style thing with palm trees and a pool and good schools down at the southern end of the Silicon Valley, and we are really excited. WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SUMMER AND IT IS GOING TO BE AWESOME. I have been ballz-freezing cold for about thirteen years now, ever since we moved to SF in the summer of '98 and I'm fucking sick of it. Side note, you folks in the SF bay area or possibly also Manhattan island likely find it unremarkable that we are first-time homeowners at the age of 37, while you Midwesterners and Southerners are like, Finally growin up, are ya? Real estate here is fucking Krazy Kart Death Race, I'm telling you.
But anyway. So there's like a million Guys you have to call (carpet guys, carpet measuring guys, fumigation guys, fumigation prep guys, palm tree care guys, PG&E guys, water guys, garbage guys, chimney inspection guys, cable guys, armpit hair remediation guys, what the fuck EVER) and so many boxes to pack ... we've lived here nearly seven years ... you open a closet and BLACK DESPAIR pierces your heart, no kidding. We ever move out of this new joint, we're selling it as is, furnished and with our names still on the utility bills because FUCK IT.
Oh, and also, grave issues with the health of a member of my family of origin have required me to make a visit back to Olde Cowburg right in the middle of all this. Plus the job search. Plus there's international travel in early May (which, again, I am totally psyched about, but could we ADD more complications right this second? I keep thinking of that line from "Just," where Yorke is going "You do it to yourself, you do, and that's what really hurts ...").
To illustrate how completely the moving has taken over our brains, I will share a story.
Me and Mr. Gleemonex are crashed out watching the Yankees. Joba Chamberlain's pitching. We start bagging on him, as always:
"Been working on that Power Eating plan all winter, eh?"
"It looks like he's wearing a turtleneck made of a whole nother guy."
"Lookit those JOWLS. What the hell is in there?"
"He looks like Artie Lange."
And neither of us came up with the obvious. Maybe that's because we are Sophisticates who shy away from the obvious on principle. Or maybe it's because our brains are fucking fried. Either way.
Labels: balls in YOUR mouth sir, beisbol a been berry berry good to me, caffeine - cocaine - what's the diff, deportivo, first-world problems, way too old for this kind of shit anymore
posted by Gleemonex at 10:35 AM
9 Comments:
I am really, really vicariously excited for your home ownership and summer!
Awww, thanks! :-) Come on over, after we paint over the 80s "teal and dusty rose" color scheme inside ...
Congrats on the house! That is awesome.
But dude, his name is JOBA. I mean, COME ON. I'm a little disappointed, I have to say.
Congratulations! It sounds like such a move up for you all. And yes, summer will rock. For me, San Francisco is waaay too temperate and cool. I can't imagine what it was like for you.
Congrats! Where down south will you be living? Maybe I can spend some time in your pool when I visit the family in September for Lil' Bro's wedding!
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Amblus: I know, right? FAIL.
Spike: Thanks! Yes, it is really getting to me. Less the fog -- which is kinda cool and not as ubiquitous as you might think -- and more the fact that all these brilliant beautiful sunny days are a LIE!!! You THINK you can go outside -- but it's freezing and windy! The beauty TRICKS you! Charlie Brown/football, day after day after day for thirteen years ...
Panda: Heck yes!
Congratulations! Huge stuff! Happy Anniversary, Happy homeownership! Happy heat!
So happy for the Gleemonexes.
congrats all around! i love new beginnings. we also had a dusty rose theme to paint over. and the unicorn. oddly enough, the ut burnt orange job in the living room has quietly grown on me. if you'd just move back to texas, you'd have a whole 'nother bunch of paint themes to worry about.
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