Last Nite, She Said.

11:17 pm, January 15, 2005

It's really eerie in here. It's still my room, but it's only slightly recognizable. Huge chunks of posters are missing. All my pictures have been put back in their albums and are sitting about 30 miles away. Along with my fucking TV!

I'm not taking everything with me. Just about all the sports memorabilia is staying put. The Mac stays, along with a number of non-essential posters (I wanna say 20%, which is still a lot by many standards, but very little to mine). And then, you know, random shit here and there as well. I may come back for them if they're missed, but for the most part I'm square.

This'll be the last night with Internet for a while. Jake and I are gonna have to bite the bullet and call Comcast, so we can start suckling from their dominant teet. I feel like I'm about to swallow whatever color pill they say puts you back into the Matrix. Dammit, Morpheus, why did you have to show me the truth?!?!

It's comforting to think that this will be my last night as an official resident of Tacoma. Hey, Renton may not be Shangri La, in fact it could be a HUGE step down in quality. But, that matters not. It's change. And, it's buckfutting close to Southcenter, as well as a hop and a skip to Seattle.

I'm a little more disappointed to note that this is my last night in this room as an official resident of this house. This room has been a sanctuary for too many years. Now, I'm in an apartment and my room doesn't even have a fucking lock! Seriously, there's no masturbating in peace without a lock on the door.

I'm enjoying the fact that there's two different dollar stores right across the street from each other, as well as a Good Will and another thrift store in VERY close proximity. I'm telling you, I WILL find a shirt that goes with those old-man pants.

And, HEY, unlike SOME fockers I know, Jake and I are actually gonna have two TVs in the living room that WORK. Yes, with his amp, ALL the fucking channels will be coming in loud and clear. Plus, he's got a PS2 and a 64 I believe; and I've got the necessities: the NES, the Super NES, and the Sega Genesis. We've got ping-pong; we've got bumper pool; we've even got a weight bench. YES! Now Jake can finally start pumping iron (he's been too a-scared to lift the 95 pound bench press without a spotter).

I hear there's a mega-beast who's like the Manager of the Condo or something. Like the head of the "Board of Directors" or something. They've got a bunch of douchey rules we've gotta follow. You know how much I LOVE rules. We can't even decorate our fucking door without their fucking say-so.

Oh, and don't forget the beer fridge in the living room. Now, you don't have to necessarily get up from your seat to have your drink freshened. Oh, and you better believe it'll be stocked. High Life and Milwaukee's Best Ice for all.

Tomorrow, Nate arrives to help me move my most prized possession: my desk. Great Grandpa Taylor built this beast of a desk with his own two hands. This thing is a MONSTER. He also built a chair, but I happened to break that a few years back. I don't think Great Grandpa Taylor reckoned on a 300-pound teenager punishing that poor chair.

Anyway, it looks like I'll be incommunicado for a while. So, if you're reading this and a few days have passed, don't worry. I haven't been run over by a bus. Unless I have. If that's the case, let's make this my last will and testament:

I, Steven A. Taylor (super genius), being of sound mind, hereby bequeath all of my material possessions to the winner of a Battle Royale, the participants being anyone who knows what the "A." stands for in my name. The winner shall be determined in a Feats of Strength style combat, losers tapping out or losing consciousness. Anything goes.

Current Mood: The Taylor Identity
Current Music: Fatboy Slim - Love Island

2005-01-25 02:33 pm (local) (link)
All the tea in china couldn't make me salivate over your balls. your balls are not saliva worthy. no tea for me, thnx.