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6.30.2005
you know that time that i posted about all the bad luck we were having? remember the horrendous back pain and subsequent chiropractor bills we had to shave off our savings to pay for? remember that within the same week we got a staggering parking ticket and then the next morning someone smashed up the car and stole the stereo? yeah, i remember that too.
well i don't believe in luck per say, or karma or any of that crap. nonetheless, today things took a great turn. we got a message a little while ago from an old friend in Seattle relaying a message from another old friend in Seattle to get in touch with him about apartments. today we got in touch with said friend (the second one), and not only did he enthusiastically offer to introduce me personally to his landlords the morning of my arrival, but he also just happens to be one of the big shot comic book purveyors of the northwestern metroplolis and will probably buy some comics from me. or i'll just give them to him, whatever. he also has a totally adorable store cat. that doesn't really help us get an apartment, it's just cool.
then i had a look-see at my UI payments and found out that i'll still be receiving my measly checks for a full month after we're out there, which won't seem quite so measy in Seattle. then M called to tell me that his boss called him in and offered to contract him out for some undefined period of time to finish the project he's going to be leaving in the middle of. not only does that mean we'll actually have valid employment references for prospective landlords, but we'll also have a lot more time to kind of lay low for a lot longer than we though we could before returning to 9-5 drudgery.
and if that weren't enough, M just called to say i could blow off making dinner because in addition to the 13 lbs. of macaroni salad he snaked from tutorials yesterday, they've got enough sandwiches to feed a small German army and he's bringing them home. SANDWICHES!
:: Shericat 12:53 PM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.29.2005
tomorrow is the end of June. that means exactly 16 days until i head out to Seattle for a crazed 48 hours in which i must find an apartment in between bouts of estatic drinking and fried catfish munching with Bonnie, or Captian Tits as she has been recently nicknamed. i'm really psyched, and fairly certain that i'll have no problem finding that perfect little space for our little furry family, but today i had to stop and breathe, count to ten, and drink a good shot of lemonade after reading this story in the Voice. obviously this isn't going to happen to us because we're not looking for an apartment in new york, for the first time in 7 years, but still it really shook me up. can you imagine the feeling of betrayal? the malicious intent of one human being effecting so many poor, unsuspecting souls? actually, i kind of can, but that's another story and has nothing to do with real estate.
tonight i finally made friends with the surly cook at work when i brought in one of our Latin Playboys albums. he kept playing a few tracks over and over and our mutual love of this amazing Los Lobos side project led to conversations about growing up in Mexico (he) or a Mexican neighborhood (me). i threw around the small bit of Spanish slang i remembered and he told me, finally, how to get the good, non-gringo tamales from the bodega on Bedford. i would impart this bloodthristy knowledge to you all but then it just wouldn't be so special...
:: Shericat 8:50 PM [+] :: speak
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6.27.2005
this morning i woke up after ten hours of much needed sleep, in a total state of panic. i tried calming myself down, internally saying over and over again "it'll all work out", but that wasn't helping. i called M and said not more than "i just really need you to talk to me right now" and he said over and over again all the reasons why this move is going to be so good for us and exactly how we are going to manage to get everything arranged and packed and sold in time. he reassured me that the people i'm afraid hate me for missing parties and shows or making embarrassing comments at parties and shows probably don't, in fact, hate me. that the people who do hate me aren't worth my worrying over and the ones who i'm unsure about will pretty much take care of themselves. that i should just focus on taking care of myself and getting this last comic done and then before i know it we'll be heading up to NH for a little respite and a lot of food and drink and family lovin'. so i took his advice, watched about 15 minutes of Before Sunrise or After Moonshine or whatever that drivel is called before realizing that i've had more riveting converstaions with a sack of potatoes and turning the damn thing off. now i'm dyeing my hair, which always calms me down, and conemplating bangs again. things are back to normal, at least for now.
:: Shericat 10:18 AM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.26.2005
yeah, so we totally bailed on all the plans we had made for the weekend. we were supposed to be going to be having dinner and going to birthday parties and opening bank accounts and going to more birthday parties and trying to catch some of the Mermaid parade and seeing one band and then another.... instead we played with kittens and twins and sat in a backyard drinking and baking in sun and playing footsie in the kiddie pool and talking with friends we haven't seen in a long time and drunk dialing and seeing zombie flicks and feeling slightly guilty for not showing to half the events we overbooked ourselves for.
i feel overextended and exhausted and frustrated with my inability to go on as though we aren't up and leaving in a month and pretend that it's not making my head spin faster than my body can in heaps of stuff that we've divided into piles of that which we are getting rid of and that which we'll burden our movers with. i am spent, and we've still got five weeks to go.
:: Shericat 6:45 PM [+] :: speak
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6.24.2005
yay me!
anotha first ta cross off mah list, i jizzay gots solicited! fo` comics paper'd up! miznan, T-H-to-tha-izzat feels so mizzy betta tizzy gett'n hollered at by construction worka, but maybe that's jizzy me . Ya fuck with us, we gots to fuck you up. so now on top of pack'n n perpetratin' n stoop sale-ing n spendin' ta various families' places fo` peace out yo visits, i need ta finish one of tha many comics i've been straight trippin' on fo` tha past couple of months. tha very professional-feel'n piznart of this is that i'm allowed ta send merely tha beginn'n sketches n an invoice upfront, tizzle i've gots a month or so ta complete tha wizzork where the sun be shinin and I be rhymin'.
in totally unrelated news, i've been compil'n music fo` our big bad road triznip n it's soooooo mizzle fun. so far mah method has consisted of pull'n up one o Bill Kelly's playlists at random, then blingin' fo` tha bands T-H-to-tha-izzat i dizzon't recognize on iTunes or Emusic fo gettin yo pimp on. yesterday was a good yield of motown n 60's garage rock, or shiznit thiznat sounds like 60's garage rizzle n was totally churned out two years ago . Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. you git tha idea. among mah new faves, The 'Lectric Chairs, The Killing Floor, Holland-Dozier-Holland, n The Konks. straight from long beach nigga. there's also this really off tha hook trizzay i found on a compilizzles by The Taste, called "Fuheezy", n Mo'gan aptly noted was probably tha exact precursor fo` fhqwhgads. like a motha fucka. anyway, that's all fo` now . Real niggas recognize the realness.. i mizzay go wizzay off several pimp of RBar-cheap-beer-and-funny-guys induced fizzy sweats spittin' that real shit.
p.s. i've reinstated anon thats off tha hook yo. comments fo` those of you who've bizzy forced ta email me wit yo teary-eyed responses ta mah tributes ta playa n long-lost friends. just you wait 'tizzay i git started on tha saga involv'n mah My Little Pony collection droppin hits.
:: Shericat 8:59 AM [+] :: speak
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6.22.2005
Box #3 contents:
50 assorted records
6 high school yearbooks
2 sketchbooks (sheri's)
1 small framed pic of some mesa in the southwest (morgan's)
1 photo album of the cats in NH (from Jane)
1 plastic bag of plastic toys from bookshelves
2 vintage Playboy magazines
1 Ikea Smurfleiu
1 leopard blanket
i wonder if, when unpacking this box, i'll get a little teared up at the sight of an otherwise totally disposable "I heart NY" bag. i wasn't even cognizant of using it to toss toys into but when i took the picture it hit me that our plastic bag drawer won't be bursting with those bags anymore. will i be an even bigger retard and hold onto it for sentimental value?
:: Shericat 8:50 AM [+] :: speak
2 comments
6.21.2005
i love love love summer slasher blockbusters.
Yeah! YEah!! YEAH!!!
:: Shericat 12:24 PM [+] :: speak
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motter?
from the flikr log of forementioned admired blogger:
half man, half otter? why not, MOTTER!
:: Shericat 10:49 AM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.20.2005
a tribute to my father, a la one of my favorite blogs.
my father, the man with whom i've always had that special relationship that little tomboy girls tend to have. he taught me how to ride a bike, and didn't bat and eye when i pedaled away yelling at him how he taught me all wrong because i'd finally gotten it on my own terms. he played mr. mom for a few years when my mother was finishing her masters, making me snacks when i came home from school and helping me with my homework or taking me out on my pony for the few precious hours we had alone until my sister and mother came back. he understood how important it is to have fun with your kids, even when it means blowing off chores and getting dinner ready and then bearing the brunt of my mom's bitchiness when she'd come home to a messy house with no food in it and he and i getting into our seventeenth round of Mad Magazine's card game.
he was my chauffeur for those terribly akward years when i was old enough to like boys and make plans to go to movies with them but still far too young to get anywhere by myself. he let me cry on his shoulder when i got stood up at thirteen, and bought me ice cream before telling me that that kid just wasn't worth his weight in salt and that he could go bugger off. when i was a screaming, crying brat in the hospital during Halloween he came right over with a bag full of candy and a tshirt with the Apple logo on it that i never wore but didn't get rid of for years because it was his way of trying to make things better without knowing what on earth to do.
later when things were awful, and i had my close brush with death, he sat down in front of me and fourteen other rehabilitating teenagers and their families and cried openly and held onto me so tightly i thought i would scream and told me over and over again that he just didn't know what he'd do without me. six months later he had a stroke and i wanted to cry openly and hold onto him until he wanted to scream and tell him how i just didn't know what i'd do without him, but i took one look at him and knew that i couldn't. so i smiled and told him a bad joke and we laughed and tried to pretend neither of us were freaked out to know that he had MS.
when i announced that Morgan and i were moving in together after knowing each other only two months he didn't say a word, and five minutes later when i was sure he wouldn't speak to me again there he was, with a hand on my back whispering to me that my photos were the only thing worth looking at in that whole damn art opening. when i told him we were moving to New York, his eyes lit up and he told me about McSorley's ale house and the pickle factories on Varick street and the time when his overweight roommate got stuck in the bathtub and they had to call 911 and the NYPD had to pry him out with a shovel. he told me he couldn't believe he had to pay $75 a month to share a crappy little two bedroom apartment in the East Village in the 70's and he was sure they had to be up to something godawful like $500 now. then he told me how proud he was of me to be really living my life and heading fearlessly into the unknown while i could.
when we announced we were getting married, my dad shook an Australian artifact at Morgan and told him he had just put an Aboriginal death curse on him not five minutes into our visit. two years later on our wedding day i couldn't take my eyes off him, constantly surrounded by Morgan's family and just glowing with the thrill of having met a bunch of people who love nothing more than a good story. i had never seen him so in his own element, and i probably never will again.
now when i go home for visits a lot of who my dad is anymore is defined by the oxygen tanks in his bedroom and the shots he has to give himself three times a day. we watch old Jon Belushi movies together and the fact that my father never tires of the zit joke in Animal House makes me want to cry. he's still all there but for some reason these old, repetitive jokes remind me of the ways in which he's fading, the bits of things he can't remember anymore and the fact that one day he won't remember that he thought they were funny once. it's hard not to focus on the rough road ahead so for now i talk to him as much as i can, and a 40 minute conversation about how to make the perfect red chile sauce reminds me just one of the zillion ways that my dad's one amazing human being.
:: Shericat 7:54 PM [+] :: speak
1 comments
man, some people. some fuckin' people.
some people email me out of the blue and in the midst of catching up just slay me with "i forgot that i had told you about his freeloading gansta rapping brother. well he left only to be replaced by his freeloading hippie sister and her life partner Laverne. Wow were they a pair. His sister, Isabel is a witch who thinks fairies visit her daily and Laverne believes she is other worldly because Isabel sees horns coming from her head. And, I thought my family was weird." it made me laugh out loud and then cry a little bit as i remembered the hysterics that never failed to ensue whenever we'd get together. i had written her off last year and now, well now....
some people say two things after meeting you, the first involving excited anticipation for the new Land of the Dead movie and love of zombies in general, and the second about wanting to make a comic book about zombies ravaging Williamsburg but needing an illustrator and it makes me wonder if this new girl read up on me or something before brunch that day...
some people make their way into your conversation in the backyard of Daddy's and you have a great chat about drinking and drugs and counting trees in New York for a job, and they find the couple of degrees that seperates them from your friend and apparently every other person who grew up in and around Cohoes.
some people get a little too excited after that fifth beer and decide it's a great idea to get more beer and a pizza even though it's midnight and their wonderful husbands make the trek down the street for it while you roll around on the couch drooling and blathering about god knows what to a very patient and hung over compadre.
some people work in meat shops and crank their craptastic italian hip hop bullshit at 10 a.m. and not only wake me from a great dream, but prevent me from sleeping off the rest of my hangover. fuckers.
:: Shericat 8:13 AM [+] :: speak
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6.18.2005
once upon a time there was this girl, we'll call her K. we became friends out of convienence and a mutual disdain for the world in general. shortly thereafer she moved away and for many months we wrote these amazingly long and involved letters to each other. we made art and professed undying affection for the idea of what we had envisioned of one another. we wrote back and forth about the understanding that we craved from other humans but could never seem to find, and in letters it all made sense, as though the sharing of our pain meant we were bound to be soul sisters for eternity. i believed it without a doubt, that she was a keeper, someone for me to be close to and to remind me of the savage world that we must meet every day...
about a year later K moved back, and suddenly it was weird. we had so little to say, all those words having been consumed by expensive paper and flowerly handwriting. we kept trying, making obligatory drink dates that never felt right. enduring the relentless anguish of a theoritical friendship that couldn't hold up in reality eventually became too much to bear. it slowly devolved into the relentlessly trying saga of her priviledged and existential lifestyle, plagued by her providing parents who, alhtough they didn't understand her, allowed her to live in new york with no job and no school. she was sad, morose, perpetually depressed and in desperate need of a proper diagnosis. she withdrew. severely. i made some suggestions, gentle nudges towards K's reintroduction to society at large. "it's really not that bad", i'd tell her, of the life that going to school and working part time could potentially afford, but she would insist that not a single doctor in the new york metropolitan area could properly diagnose her disease of the week. i just didn't know her pain, i didn't understand what it felt like to live in her skin, which was apparently ravaged by otherwise undetectable scurvy or mumps or mange.
the last time i saw her she coughed into her hand, asked if there were any pharmacies open late, and limply congratulated me on my 4 hour old nuptials. next thing i know it's three years later and she's walking past my house every day. where is K going? i wonder, to work? to school? two things she could never seem to manage when i knew her. she was a ghost for two months, by the time i would follow M's pointed finger she'd be gone in a sea of black peacoats. two weeks ago we had our standoff. i on my side of the street, she opposite, both watching the approaching bus as it made its rambling way down Graham Ave. we were both one foot off the curb when she caught me, fear in her eyes like some kind of hunted animal she snatched her boot back and scurried away with her head down. next time i was ready, catching a sunset smoke break, her path defined and the trap of my eyes inescapable. her averted gaze still met my stare in hunched shoulders and stomping pace, and i backed down, unable to chide and laugh like the Cruella i had envisioned. now the magic is gone, she's nothing but another lost contact in the hustle and bustle of the big city. she is number eleven on my list of lost new yorkers.
:: Shericat 8:31 PM [+] :: speak
4 comments
6.16.2005
54 days and counting...
today work was slow so i sat down with my notebook and made a calendar detailing all the things i need to do every week until we leave. only seven left! i can't believe that it's coming up so quickly, nor can i believe that there is still a part of me that feels like a kid in the back of the station wagon whining "are we there yet?"
yesterday we got our boxes and met our movers, very exciting for me because a) i can start packing, which i actually love to do, sicko that i am, and b) our moving company is actually organized enough that they have appointed a "foreman" for our move and when he introduced himself to me yesterday he said something along the lines of "i'm looking forward to working with you on your moving day". is it just me or is that totally nuts? i think the most i've ever gotten from a mover is a half-disconcerted grunt upon arrival followed by many pissed off sideways glances when they realize how much crap we've got. i'm just floored that this place has got it together enough to appoint one person to our move and actually have him be the one who brings us our boxes. skeptic that i am, i'm still not convinced that it is he who we'll greet on moving day, but still the sentiment makes a world of difference.
tomorrow we are off to Woodstock of all places for the annual family stockholder meeting. usually this is a joyous occasion filled with lively chats amongst family friends who've become much more family than friend over the years, good food and drink, relaxing walks around the grounds of whichever beautiful New England location they've chosen... this time around i think it will be a bit more stressful and sad. we won't see a lot of these people for quite a while and there are family visitations to try to schedule with M's mom. but it'll still be a nice couple of days out of the city. we're going to break our new car stereo's cherry on the drive up. we got it online and were very let down to realize that our old and now stolen one was 45 megalogammarammahertz and we could only afford a new one with 23. then the other day M got it at work and called to tell me that they must have made a misprint or sent the wrong one, but our new baby's got 50! i'm not sure exactly what the measurement is, but i know it means LOUD.
and lastly, tonight we're off to see Jon Spencer's new thang, Heavy Trash at Pussycat. i lamely haven't made it to any of the number of friends' bands' shows there so it'll be my first time seeing the gross strippers, and my first time seeing Jon Spencer since Summerfest '99. let the blues flow.
:: Shericat 12:23 PM [+] :: speak
0 comments
6.15.2005
damn everyone's social calendar in new york! i just found out that the much loved members of Kickstart will be long gone in Britian, rocking to a limey tune, when we are to have our giant goodbye blast off party in August. of course i'm stoked for their first tour crossing waters and all, but it is really not going to be the same without them there. that said, may i just put it out to the blogosphere now that said party will be happening on Saturday, August 6, 2005 at some point in the evening at Daddy's. of course we'll be sending out mass invites far in advance, but just keep it in mind ok? this will literally be your last chance to see us before we head out, and though i plan to make time for everyone individually before then, it's really important to have everyone gathered into one huge, drunken, heaving mass of bodies as our final send off.
the boxes are arriving today, which means we're but a few days away from the slow process of morphing our apartment into a series of cardboard forts from which may spring attack cats at any given turn.
:: Shericat 10:10 AM [+] :: speak
0 comments
6.14.2005
yesterday someone got to you my blog by googling "spanking purging toilet". i think that one pretty much takes the cake. for some reason i could have sworn i'd seen that one pop up on my sitemeter before, but nope, just the once.
count on this kind of stuff to happen just before we're moving, but now i'm getting secret admirer.er. ??? whatever. nice little invites out of the blue to see my favorite male musician sweat his pants off at a strip club. if you can decode that message you are a gurk head.
:: Shericat 12:37 PM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.13.2005
thoughts of the day, in no particular order...
why do they call it "Scientology" when it hasn't the slightest thing to do with science?
how on earth did people live in new york during the summer pre-air conditioning?
i love Agent Orange with a intense, burning passion. this will probably pass soon but for now i can't get enough of 'em.
from this point forward, i am washing my hands of people and situations in new york that make me feel bad about myself. i will take this to the great Northwest and never forget how liberating and uplifting it feels, even when it hurts.
my pinkie toe has been fractured for over two weeks now. i can't and won't go to the doctor and am therefore going to coo lovingly at it in the hopes that it's just in need of a little emotional support, you know, for the whole healing process.
there are a lot of people out there making bad comics, and getting published at it too boot. there is no way in hell i'm not coming back here in one year sans at least one glossy issue on someone else's tab.
that's about all for now. work was hot. everything is hot, but our apartment is thankfully a chilled little igloo of linoleum heaven.
:: Shericat 7:48 PM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.12.2005
i had written this whole long and boring entry about what a difficult and emotional weekend i had, but then decided to play with our newly downloaded copy of SharpMusique, to which the link is unfortunately is down right now so i'm not including it but it's a great offshoot of iTunes that downloads mp3's in a format that isn't stupidly protected by Apple CEO's so you can burn them any which way you like. i know i'm like a billion years behind in the whole "downloading music on the interweb" tip, but i was honestly fending it off for a long time because a) i like to support my local music stores and b) it's a little dangerous on the pocketbook, me thinks. but alas, we relented and i am so, so, so plussed to have immediately found my favorite Agent Orange song of all time. it's the one they played the first time i saw/heard them on some bootlegged tape of a show in a basement somewhere in southern California when i was all of 12 years old.
 i fell head over heels in love with Mike Palm, in his floppy orange hair and giant t-shirt that said "GUNKA GUNKA GUNKA" on it. i never did figure out what gunka gunka gunka meant, and i never did find a good picture of Mike Palm. the best i could come up with is this cute pic of him in all his youthful glory, probably all of something-teen and unaware of what a fucking rocking heartthrob he'd be.
:: Shericat 1:22 PM [+] :: speak
0 comments
6.10.2005
yesterday i had one of those days. you know, one of those days. i started off by sleeping in too late, doing none of the million things i was supposed to do, and finally schlepping my ass out of the house to the crazy doctor. it was so incredibly hot and i wasn't really in the mood and feeling like my arms in my strappy shirt looked like hams. after my session i was feeling a little better and decided to fart around union square until M got out of work so we could hook up and buy him some clothes. i know it's terribly wife-y of me, but i don't trust him to shop by himself. he doesn't mind, as his philosophy is that clothing is just a nuisance and he's happy to have someone else make the decisions for him. men.
so i popped into Strawberry, my favorite guilty pleasure, and found the exact jacket i've been looking for for over a year now and on sale for $20. my mood turned right 'round, i bought a really bad issue of Jane and sat in the park, trying to ignore the wafting smell of feces that you can't seem to get away from in new york. we hooked up and walked down to the game store to trade in some stuff only to find that i had stupidly left the bag containing not only the games but also my new favorite jacket in the stupid park. stupid! we went back, even though it was totally hopeless, found my strawberry bag about 2 feet from my seat and empty. deflated, we went home and drank two six packs, because the only way to deal with a bad day is to give yourself a bad morning the next day. yeppers.
:: Shericat 8:56 AM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.09.2005
in exactly two months from today we will be rising our disheveled heads from bed in the wee hours of the morn. to meet our friendly movers and say bye-bye to all our illustrious crap for three weeks. i'll probably feel like a mother taking her kid to kindergarten for the first day, crying hysterically and hoping we'll see it all at the end of the day.
in an attempt to keep my constantly fluctuating spirits up about the whole procession across our great country, i've compiled a list of roadside attractions we're going to try to make along the way (again, this will serve as my actual list when we're ready to go and i find i've no real list of my own):
Pennsylvania!
Transparent Woman
The Houdini Museum i hear you have to escape from a locked locked safe underwater with cotten in your ears just to gain access to the giftshop.
Big Amish Statues wow, who knew the Amish were famous for their "wholesome humor"?
moving on, Ohio doesn't have much to offer, but they make up for it with
Cornhenge
and the Giant Jesus Statue. you know M and i will be posing for a photo of ourselves giving the man high fives just like those stupid girls at the bottom.
and not to be sexist, but i think we'll skip the World's Largest Virgin Mary because she's a little out of the way and doesn't offer a retarded hand-slapping interface from afar.
ok, to make a very very long story a little shorter, i'll stop going state by state and just give a general run-down:
in Illinois we'll stop by the Hippie Memorial. thank god they finally got rid of all of them, fucking long haired, birkenstock wearing, patchouli smelling sons of republicans. there's no way in hell we're missing The World's Largest Ketchup Bottle before a quick round of Minature Golf in a Funeral Home.
ok, well that's a good two days or so, and i don't know about you but i'm bushed. more to come sometime later.
:: Shericat 8:18 AM [+] :: speak
1 comments
6.07.2005
i have all sorts of things i want to blog about...
but i'm overcome with moving anxiety. actually, i guess it's more packing anxiety, because we've got these stupid cubic footage requirements to stay within and the moving company uses boxes of strange sizes and we're having a really rough time figuring it out. basically, we have to figure out what the estimated cubic footage is for each box they're charging for, then go to another website and find boxes that are actually affordable, and calculate the cubic footage for each of those, find out which ones are comparable, then take the product of number of boxes and cubic feet, and, ugh. i did figure out how small an industry standard "book box" is, and made Morgan cry a little when i told him we've absolutely got to pare down the book collection. "but just think of how much fun it'll be to buy them all back when we're there!" is apparently not much of a consolation. this is what i get for marrying a total pack-rat who's not much of a consumer. the end result is that our apartment is quickly turning into a mass of piles of crap that we're trying to get rid of and it all makes me feel like everything is unraveling. the fact that every time i get a decent cache of cash stored up it goes bye-bye to an emergency isn't helping either. now my toe, which i stubbed over a week ago, is still very swollen and bruised. the bruise kind of moved from the toe up my foot, and i can move it and everything, but it still hurts like a motherfucker and i'm afraid it's fractured or something. but i can't afford to go to the doctor so i guess it doesn't matter anyway, yaaaay!
:: Shericat 8:58 AM [+] :: speak
2 comments
6.03.2005
ok, last post for the day i promise. i don't know why i feel compelled to post all this drivel, probably because i've been spending too much time indoors and alone today.
i've become completely and totally obsessed with seattle craigslist. every day i go to look for apartments in Capitol Hill, a.k.a. the Williamsburg of Seattle, and i cannot, repeat CAN NOT (it's more emphatic without the contraction) believe the real estate market out there. sure, we'll be making a little less money, but really that may not be the case. all things being relative, grossly underpaid non-profit job + unemployment in NYC = higher than average income + actual job in Seattle. if you take the square root of that equation and add Pi you'll get the exact time and date of Paris Hilton's squirrely death, but i'll leave that to you more mathematically-inclined readers.
in a nutshell, our take home income may drop 10-20%, whereas our rent and utilities will drop about 50-60%. see? SEE?? and of course the apartments are much bigger and nicer and actually give you these things called "amenities". i'm still not entierly sure what they are, but they seem to fall in the realm of dishwashers and disposals and covered parking spaces. i've never had any one of those in my entire life. and if that wasn't enough, my obsessive clicking away at listings on line has educated me of the fact that apartments aren't snatched up with the intense voracity of prospective tenants here. in fact, there are a handful of them that i've seen progressively drop in rent, or offer one month free. oh, and there's none of that (Unlock door) "That'll be $1700!" weasely broker bullshit either. it's very straightforward one month + half a month fee, plan and simple. i'm sorry, i just can't get over it.
now, i know that there are a lot of lifestyle "amenities" we'll be leaving behind in exhange for such luxurious quarters, but having the guarantee of a 24 hr. deli within a two block radius pretty much tops it for me. in fact, when i think most of the things we're not going to have in abundance anymore it pretty much comes down to coke and models, which when you think about it are pretty much the same thing, they're both assholes only one comes in powder form and the other has powder for brains. yep, i sure am gonna miss me some models and coke. or coke models. or modeled coke. you get the drift.
:: Shericat 2:01 PM [+] :: speak
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alright, so i'm halfway though Boogeyman and believe it or not, i had to take a break so i didn't die of sheer boredom. i'm currently thinking of alternate titles this movie could have had, like "Boogeyman?", or "OOOH, SCARY!", or perhaps "Who's Afraid Uv a Widdle BoogeyMAN???"
my lord.
:: Shericat 1:22 PM [+] :: speak
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so today i checked one other thing off my list of One Million and One Things to Do Before we Move: cat carriers, check. i know this is of no interest to anyone, least of all the cats, who call them cat coffins, but a month from now when my brain is the consistency of instant oatmeal and i have no idea what to do next, i will be referring to past blog entries to figure out what i've done and haven't done.
we ditched the Penske truck in lieu of some highly-rated movers with a "guaranteed flat rate". yeah, i'm sure that'll work out. in the end we'd much rather get reamed for an additional $1000 than drive a rental truck 3000 miles so no matter what it's worth it. i have to keep repeating that to myself until i really believe it.
there is far too much going on this weekend. three birthday parties, Live Girls!!, the Billyburg Short Film Fest, poker night, another birthday party, and we're supposed to stoop sale again tomorrow afternoon. for anyone interested, this is the first of the big ones. our first stoop sale a few weeks ago was totally pathetic. i thought we'd gathered up so much stuff to get rid of and when we got it all outside and couldn't really notice the loss of it inside, i realized we've got so many more apron strings to break. the books are the major culprits, followed shortly by records and cd's, the latter two being much harder to fathom replacing easily. ok, so my half-assed attempt to direct this post away from the subject of moving has failed. well, off to more coffee and trying to figure out parking permits for an 18ft. truck, fun!
:: Shericat 10:15 AM [+] :: speak
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