oddcoupling

Another new home

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 05:13:00 +0000

So, it's been over a year since my very thoughtful man bought my domain name so I could set up a website for my arty stuffs. I'm just now getting around to doing something with it. I'm also just now realizing why I put it off for so long. I mean besides the fact that I'm just a procrastination champion. What a royal pain in the ass. Not the plugging things into my head-trauma-proof iWeb, which, though limited in its design goodness, is ummm head-trauma-proof. Not that I have head trauma, but saying retard-proof is enough to get one stoned these days, and I'm not as secure in the lack of karmic whiplash it could cause my future children as my politically incorrect boyfriend is. But I digress...the website setting up: It's the pointing of the dns and cnames and aliases and whoozits on the interwebs that are enough to make me stab myself in the eyeball. Ugh.

But I did it. So there. I will be glad to share with non-stalker types who are curious.

Nothing In Particular

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 01:48:00 +0000

~

Now that somewhere around 5 of you are tuning in on a regular basis, I thought I'd give you something to read this evening. Am I a saint? Probably. Could I be even more awesome? Probably not. Do I enjoy asking myself questions and then immediately answering them? You fucking betcha!

Ok, so here's the thing...

If I actually continue to blog here on a regular basis, this will be something like my 7th blog. If you don't know the story and want to find out just drop a comment. I'll tell you, it's just probably pointless since I'm assuming those of you that read this would already know it. Needless to say it involved my gigantic penis, world class physique, and a rapist's wit.

Not to sidetrack, but Andrew Zimmern and his Bizarre Foods show is in Korea (and playing in the background) at a fish market and he asks his Korean friend if he has ever eaten sea squirt raw? The guy looks at him like he's crazy as Zimmern pulls out a knife to cut one up. Just then the old ladies running that booth jump in and start carving that bitch up for him like it's the most normal thing in the world to carve a stranger a fresh piece of raw sea squirt.

I never tire of watching these other countries (Including our new overlords, the Chinese) prepare and eat the most ridiculous things.

As things settle down here in my new Charlotte home I can't help but feel like a guy in need of a local sea squirt carver to make me feel welcome.

I've been here about one month and still don't truly feel as if I live here. It's not the comfort level in work and my surroundings, because I have that by now. It's something else. A tie to the area beyond Lady Bitchmore's family, I guess. Maybe it'll be a sporting league where I can cavort, sport-like, with other cavorting sporter types. Or possibly a local place where I may bring out my inner Norm.

I don't know. I'm sure something will do it I just don't know what it will be and when.

My hope is that it'll include beer and boobies when it does.

How it Happened

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 00:13:00 +0000

The ride from Michigan to North Carolina was smooth.

Well, smooth in that we didn't have any hiccups. Otherwise it was bumpy as fuck through Michigan and into parts of Ohio, forcing me to wonder if my Uhaul truck had any suspension at all. But because I'm a dainty pretty boy with exactly zero auto skillz, I was unable to do anything more than put my foot on the gas and hope for the best.

The best was 75mph.

Anything over that and a governor would kick in. Not Michigan's governor, of course, she's worthless. (Thank you, I'll be here all week) But that only mattered through half the journey as the other half was mountains and not exactly the kind of area you want to drive a 26ft truck like it's a sports car.

Both Lady Bitchmore and myself have iPhones. She would be driving the family truckster, complete with adjustable seats and auxiliary plug for musical or podcast goodness. I, on the other hand, was driving a circa 1490's truck with no adjustable seat and no way to plug my iPhone or iPod in like a FUCKING NEANDERTHAL!

So we came up with a great plan. I would take our speaker docking station into the truck with me and use the fancy car charger I have for work. It's a converter that plugs into your cigarette lighter and allows you to plug in your standard wall socket shit. I need it for work but it was going to be perfect for my moving truck. It's also one of the coolest things I've picked up from any work I've done. Other cool things work has given me over the years include Playstation 2's (9 of them. Seriously.), Odyssey White Hot putters (4 of them), TV's, DVD players, a chance to touch and get my picture taken with the Stanley Cup, a shitload (Industry term) of expensive booze for free, and multiple attractive female coworkers that may or may not have experienced my two patented lovemaking techniques. Those would be The Thumper and The Jackrabbit.

What exactly are The Thumper and The Jackrabbit? Buy me a beer and I'll show you.

If you're ugly buy me 7 American beers or 6 imports and I'll show you. If you're really ugly you'll have to ask a friend to find out for you. She'll need anywhere from 1 to 7 beers, depending on her features.

Anyhow, we ended up stopping halfway because we didn't get on the road until 5pm. Eleven hours in the truck, through the mountains, sleepy, and in the dark, just didn't seem like a smart move. We stopped at a classy Best Western just shy of West Virginia.

This was crucial.

Not only did it allow us to refresh for the last half of our drive, but because we were in Ohio and not West Virginia, our chances of getting butt-raped by bearded locals with banjos was significantly decreased.

So I couldn't hear shit in the truck, we split the drive into two days, and once we got here it turned out that our closest confidant was really a double agent and we were about to be fucked until we intercepted some important data and preemptively struck after quickly assembling a team of misfit former seal types (One black, one foreign, one funny, and one extremely capable) and when the dance battle ensued it was all over.

We had finally become residents of North Carolina.

Well Adjusted

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 17:30:00 +0000

So, we are finally settled in and I'm loving it here. I get to be close to my sister, my nieces, my Mom (this is a double-edged sword but so far, so good), and in a place that is warmer and prettier and right next door from a yummy French bakery, from which I currently sit while my new, shinier floor is drying. My man gets to be surrounded by my family (he is a total trooper), go to work in 95 degree heat in a suit every day, and be hundreds of miles from (most of) his friends and family. Clearly, I have the better deal in this scenario, but I lived in the MIDWEST for over a YEAR. I deserve it! Besides, he already had a poker night and he no longer has to hear me bitch about the weather, the lack of decent pizza and the weather.
Being broke due to the move has kept us from experiencing all of the things our fine new city has to offer, but that will turn around soon. Until then, we will have to be satisfied with making delicious meals together in our new, improved larger kitchen, drinking wine from the Italian provisions store a few miles away and...wait. Being broke is way better here. I'm ok with it. Next on the to-do list: make art and sell it, discover new restaurants and bars, and take pictures of our new place. Life is rough down south.

Phases

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 22:33:00 +0000

~

I'm thinking the phases of moving to a new state go something like this:

1. Excitement

Fucking A, everybody! I'm moving to Charlotte, I'm moving to Charlotte, I'm moving to Charlotte!!! It's going to be better, I can feel it. Our rent will be cheaper, our place will be better, the temperatures will be warmer, and at least five times a year I'm going to look down and swear that my dick is bigger!

(And it's already pretty damn big.)

((Hear that, ladies?))

Honestly, who wouldn't get excited at the prospect of moving to a new place? Well, unless the new place was Detroit. It's no mistake that many moving companies have 3 or 4 locations and one just always seems to be Michigan.

(That's because lots of people move out of Michigan. Now try to follow along, OK?)

People move out of Michigan in a pulsating way. Waves of exodus due to the economy, the economy, or the blacks.

Hahahaha, I'm just kidding.

It's the A-rabs.

Damn, I'm slaying me tonight.

(It's really just the economy and weather.)

Actually, Michigan can be downright awesome for like, 3 months a year. Unless you like really cold snowy weather where the snow never accumulates and the ice on the roads destroys your car. Then it's awesome for almost the whole entire year!

2. Worry

Am I going to be accepted in the land of ~~uneducated, accent of the stupid, put on some goddamn deoderant, why do you still speak like a dipshit when all the programs you watch have people who speak normally~~ NASCAR fans?

(Aww, I'm just kidding NASCAR fans. I know you don't know any better. I shouldn't make fun of you. )

Will moving to a new place disrupt the many things I've been working on while residing in Michigan? Does North Carolina support high enough internet speeds for me to maintain my 3-monitor masturbatory routine? Will we have HGTV so I can finish my thesis that Michael Holmes from Holmes on Holmes is really just a planted agent of the female agenda to make men across the world start wearing overalls again as an emasculating tool meant to undermine man's rightful place as the breadwinning, master of the household? To what extent can I peep?

Really, it's going to be a big transition. Worry is a big part. Part 2, actually. Of the phases.

3. Confidence

I'm certainly going to find a fantastic deal on movers because I've got mad google skillz (See 2003's Shemale on Midget mpeg success rate) and I've got nothing to worry about, right? I mean, there are deals to be had and the economy sucks and I think it was just a new moon which has something to do with karma and I haven't made fun of retards or anything for weeks so this has gotta happen, right?

Actually, yeah. You'll find a good deal in this stage. It just isn't always the type of deal you think it would be. We quickly went from possibly paying for movers a certain weekend to moving ourselves a weekend earlier because of a good deal. That's quite a big difference when you get down to it. Sure, we were going to be packing boxes anyways, so moving them onto a truck shouldn't be that bad. But guess what, douchebag? It's totally that bad.

4. Insanity

As the shitload of boxes you acquired run out and you've got many awkward sized things yet to box you quickly realize that it's a goatfuck of epic proportions. You've packed things that you now know you should have left out for your last few days. Five times a day you shoot to attention with out of the blue half-brained ideas on where to find boxes, or how to save money on the rental truck, or how witty wall posts on your ex-girlfriend's facebook page each day might result in a recreation of that one time in the courtyard of that Key West bed and breakfast where any animals up that early were simultaneously blushing and nodding their heads in approval.

5. Excitement

In the end it comes full circle as you realize all the stress and insanity fades with each filled box and utility confirmed. With some loading, a drive, and some unloading, it becomes clear that it's just a tiny fraction of a fraction of madness for what will certainly be a fantastic new phase in your life.

~

It hasn't been all bad

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 20:36:00 +0000

Despite the bad press it gets, there are many things that are good about this place I've called home for the past year. There are people with similar thinking, with vision to make things better, despite living in one of the finest examples of what can go wrong in a city built on hard work and patriotism, but failing to keep up with the competition from other countries and their technology. Buying "US made" is promoted on more bumper stickers than I can count in a day, despite the local government being a continual letdown, and politicians facing criminal charges and jail sentences on a regular basis. Still, people continue to find the silver lining, to see the beauty despite the destruction, and who truly love this place. People turning abandoned lots into community gardens, seeing neglected houses and hospitals as a sort of anthropological art to be captured in stunning imagery, and grass roots movements to make changes in a landscape of almost overwhelming depression.

As a couple, my man and I are an anomaly, because we are over 30 and neither married nor parents. In the New York area, this is completely average, if not expected. Here, it is eyed with some measure of suspicion. What, they wonder, could we possible be waiting for? Don't I know that my biological clock is just hammering away in there? At the same time, it is a testament to the family values one reads about but sees so rarely where I'm from. I used to wonder why someone from a small town in middle America would leave, live somewhere like New York or LA, and then come back to settle down and raise their own families. While it may not be my ideal, I can certainly see why they do. Don't get me wrong. I'm not romanticizing things too much. There are plenty of crappy people here, like everywhere else. It's just nice to see a shift in priorities, and luckily, I've been exposed to the best examples of why people plant their roots here and don't leave.

They are what I will truly miss and my only regret about moving my man away from. Besides his family, there are people here he has known for decades. Not just passing acquaintances or Facebook friends, but people he sees all the time who have had a major role in forming who he is. They are the main characters in his stories and I hope they don't resent me too much for taking him away because I want them to stay in our lives. Besides, we are really good hosts and we enjoy visitors!

Our apartment in our soon-to-be hometown is finally locked in. I guess that's solidified things in my mind, and I'm ready to move on. I will actually look forward to coming back to visit though, and for anyone who knows me, that is a sentiment they never would have imagined from me a year ago.

Posted by Elizabeth

Up To 74%!!!

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 14:32:00 +0000

Moving is a bitch.

It shouldn't be so hard. You put stuff sitting around you in boxes and then either pay someone to move them or load them in a rented truck yourself. Placing things in boxes and carrying them to an open truck shouldn't be that difficult, but it is.

As much as I'd love to pay someone to do it for us, it'll be at least $400 cheaper to do it ourselves. That's money that can be used on more important things. Like food, home accessories, utilities, golf, monthly ivanafukalot.com dues. These things aren't cheap and every little bit counts. So that, along with all the other costs of moving, leave us doing it ourselves.

U-Haul can suck it, I mean, they are priced higher than both Penske and Budget no matter where you go or what date you select and they're so goddamn proud of their lower loading ramps as if people's only complaint is that they wish the grade were 5% lower as they wrestle all the heavy, awkward shit they never wanted in the first place up a narrow-ass ramp and god forbid you just throw in a fucking hand truck to help out, I mean, it isn't as if you're getting a THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS for that old ass truck with shitty brakes maybe you offset the death defying trip I'll be taking through the mountains with a few motherfucking furniture pads on the house and if Budget really wants to charge me an extra hundred dollars to rent a truck from their lot of 900 hundred trucks a whopping 3 days later than their "deal" expires I may go apeshit on someone because I may not know the difference between "18yo" and "Teen" porn categories but I do know that those trucks aren't going anywhere you foreign dipshit I ALREADY LOOKED ON THE INTERNET SO WHEN I ACTUALLY SHOW UP TO SPEAK WITH YOU IN PERSON MAYBE YOU COULD DO MORE FOR ME THAN OPEN UP YOUR OWN WEBSITE AND DO WHAT I ALREADY FUCKING DID ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME because the trucks aren't going anywhere and maybe you'd like some business instead of just sitting on your ass on a lot full of unused trucks or I have a better idea yet, maybe you can get as aggressive as the moving companies that call me ten times a goddamn week to offer me "up to 74% off the price of other movers" yet all the goddamn companies are charging the same inflated, ridiculous price to move my shit like I'm just going to be a jackass and say OK mister mover guy, please come to my house and rape me of my dollars at your leisure because if my couch weighs 400 pounds I'll be a goddamn monkey's uncle and I know goddamn well you can tell me if you can beat a price of another company without coming out to do your own estimate because I know how many cubic feet I have and how much it's estimated to weight and the girth units and virtual landscape it takes up and I know that EVERY GODDAMN ONE OF YOU USES THE WEIGHT AND CUBIC FEET TO DETERMINE THE PRICE SO IF YOU CAN'T COMPETE WITH THE PRICE I GIVE YOU ON THE PHONE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE ON A SUNDAY for chritsake that's the lord's day and I use it for masturbating angrily into my least favorite socks while sobbing over my high school yearbook messages from friends that wrote to me that we'd be in touch forever and yet I've never received one phone call or letter or even the lamest of all things which is the facebook wall posting wishing me a happy birthday and once the sobbing resides and the socks are in the wash I usually sit alone for awhile on my 400 pound couch dreaming of scenarios where someone actually utilizes common sense and looks out for others, says "thank you" and "sorry", parks like a normal person, drives like a sane person, and comes over to help me pack a truck with all my worldly possessions.

Seriously, though.

Time to pay a visit to IOweYouOnesBurg. This truck isn't going to pack itself.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's the lord's day. I've some personal stuff to attend to.

~

Air Transportation Wanted

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 15:36:00 +0000

So, as you've read, we have found a place. I'm pretty pumped about it because it's brand new and lovely and has giant 8 foot doors, which make me feel like a miniature person when I stand in the doorway. It's the little things that make me happy. Also? Sunshine in the bedroom. Actual windows that will let light in to wake up to, as opposed to the cave-like situation we have going on in our current place. It's not like we have no windows. We have an entire WALL of windows here. It just happens to be at the opposite side of the space, so our bedroom is a big, dark cavern.

I write about the new place as if it's already a done deal, but in reality, there is still paperwork to process and checks to write, making me feel a bit helpless, seeing as I've made zero to crappy money in the year we've been here. I've been working, it's just been more of a learning experience than a profit making one, so not so helpful in the making bacon department. And by bacon, I mean veggie bacon, of course, only not so much, because veggie bacon is decidedly cardboard-esque, so let's forget bacon. We should change that expression to making soysage, because that is delicious. Am I making all of you meat loving folks crazy pants over my rejection of your food? Comments will read "Meat is Murder! Delicious murder!" Yeah yeah. This opinion is also shared by my man, who is a lover of all sorts of animal carcasses as food. It's quite amazing that we are able to live so comfortably together despite these vast differences.

Where we aren't different? Well, there is the procrastination factor. We are both world class procrastinating prodigies. Our future children will be born weeks overdue and likely won't walk or talk until they are 4. The gene will be that strong. That is why the application to live in our new home wasn't filled out until this morning. And it still hasn't been sent, because we aren't even clear as to whom the check should be made out to for processing said application. This makes me uneasy because I won't feel truly secure in the move until I know we have a signed lease for the place. I'm not really fond of feeling I'm in limbo. Sooooo I'm a little cranky pants, but I'll get over it. What I would really like is to find a yoga studio down there that is as good (or at least close) to the one I found here. Of all the things to complain about here (long, ridiculous winter, anyone?), who would have thought that I would find a yoga studio I adore so much. I've been to a handful of them down there, but none of them have really done it for me. All a bit too focused on one person's methodology instead of being about advancing one's own practice. Guess I'll just have to keep looking. It did take me over six months to find the place here. Anyone want to airlift a yoga studio, complete with kickass instructors and other students 500ish miles for me? That would be super.

posted by Elizabeth

The New Home

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 11:40:00 +0000

~

Well, it appears that we have found a place to our liking.

It's a new building, eerily similar in situation to the one we currently live in. The development had high hopes and grand plans before the economy tumbled, leaving people like us in a great position to benefit. In our current case the second building was lost to the bank and lofts originally for sale were now available to rent. Brand new lofts. Industrial, fun, close to the best part of the metro area we reside in. It was pretty much a no-brainer. Expensive, but exactly what we needed.

The place we anticipate moving in to is the first in what was supposed to be numerous loft style units for purchase. After the first building was completed the economy tanked and they didn't start the others. Now, after the world almost ended because of the ~~jews~~ ~~obama~~ ~~bush~~ ~~republicans~~ ~~democrats~~ ~~illuminati~~ various entities involved, they can't sell what they have. Prices are coming down and they're now looking to rent.

For Lady Bitchmore there are numerous draws to the building beyond the style of the apartment, which happens to mesh perfectly with her style and custom design metalwork abilities. She'll be close to family and walking distance to the arts district. The icing on top of the cake is that one of her favorite bakery/deli/dessert places is basically at the other end of the parking lot.

For myself, I just wanted to be close to the arts district for her. She makes badass stuff and deserves to be selling it somewhere, so why not just up the street in one of the many art galleries? I also wanted to be close to her family. She'll be there constantly and her nieces are adorable so it only made sense. Other than that, I just wanted a a cool place to live in. This place has that.

In fact, it's almost borderline ridiculous. To know that we are upgrading from our current place to a similar but significantly better designed (Larger, nicer) place, and we're likely going to be paying over $400 LESS a month than we are now? Well that makes me feel like I'm stealing.

We looked at a few places before this particular building. We looked at a few homes and a few condo type places. Nothing even comes close. And to know that some of the dumpy, poorly designed, decorated by jackals, badly taken care of homes are asking MORE per month to rent than this brand new kickass place makes me want to go around slapping some people back to reality.

Well, to be fair I always feel like slapping people back to reality but usually just right handed. This made me want to break out the seldom used but highly effective (And generally utilized for keeping ho's in check) double backhand.

Anyhow, plans are shaping up nicely. My desire to get lucky finding a new place that was both awesome and cheaper than expected has appeared to have worked out. Now, let's all hope the same thing happens in regards to movers.

~

Keeping it Sane

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 18:20:00 +0000

I have been very busy finding creative ways to procrastinate doing all of the stuff that needs getting done in the next month until we leave. Why did I quit smoking? Smoking cigarettes is a great way to put off doing stuff...5 lovely minutes at a time. But I thought (or Betty thought, so I stopped being so lazy) that maybe I should put my perspective on these pages as well. This is supposed to be a coordinated effort, you know. I had to do some much-needed sprucing up around here, though, as you can see.

So, yes, the new move. While my ~~angrier~~ better half has been filling you in on all of the frustrations of this process, I have been the sane, calming voice of reason. Sure, homeowners and realtORS refuse to call us back about the places that have been listed for months now. Odd how their places sit vacant while they laze around collecting rent checks...oh wait. They would have to rent them to collect those checks. They hate money. That must be it.

But I will NOT be discouraged. I prefer to think that those places are not up to my standards anyway, and the right one will be waiting for us when we arrive. It will have huge closets, lots of natural light and be way under budget. Besides, we have a backup plan if we don't find something we love love love. It's a place we like like like but they could have done some stuff in a less annoying way and we would have no outdoor space.

Here are my questions, based more on lifestyle and aesthetic issues I've been having. Do people down south not enjoy bathroom privacy? Why do people build homes with 3 bedrooms and one bathroom? I'm really expected to share a bathroom with a man AND any guests we might have? Not a fan of that. Also, the closets, people. Seriously. My luggage, which was full of most of my summer wardrobe, was lost last year and still, I cannot be expected to fit my clothes and shoes into these teeny tiny closets, much less leave room for boy clothing. Maybe we will have to get a 3 bedroom and install shelves and rods in the 3rd, wall to wall, creating a serious walk-in closet. Kind of a brilliant idea, actually.

So the hunt will continue. I'm sure we'll find something fairly easily once we are actually there to see places. SOME people around here have a penchant for the drama. I'll keep it together.

posted by elizabeth

I Mean, Really?

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 11:59:00 +0000

~

As we move closer to our move date we continue to get frustrated over people's lack of effort and desire in renting their home to us I had a few more things to get off my chest.

Really, you're listing "View from unit" as the first feature that comes with your condo?

Here, let me help you fill out the rest of that fantastic list.

View from unit
Floor throughout
Windows on all wall openings
Dedicated walling
Entryway door
Unique city address
Hot AND Cold faucets and showers (YOU GET TO CHOOSE!)

I mean, really?!?

So our first opportunity to check places out in person will be this week and next week. If we can't find anything, or can't get a look at all the properties we want to, Lady Bitchmore will stay another week and try to solidify things. At bare minimum she'll be down there for a week by herself. Well, she has family down there but I mean without me. I've gotta come back and make the bacon because I've found that you literally can not afford bacon if you don't go out and make bacon first. It's a bit of a bacon conundrum. Needless to say, I do need some bacon so I'll be back making it...err...buying it. Or whatever. Dammit, between the bacon and the shitty condo details I'm going to give myself an aneurysm. I should move on.

We have a guy coming to look at our stuff today to determine weight. If everything we own falls under 3,000 pounds we'll be able to have them move for us and not have to rent a uhaul. If this happens it will be a huge burden off my well oiled and sculpted shoulders. Basically that would keep our cost around par with renting and driving our own shit down there, and as much as I want to drive a 20ft truck while simultaneously towing 20 more feet of my vehicle behind me through the mountains of West Virginia I think I'll pass on that if I can. I love leisurely truck rides through the mountains at 45 mph as much as the next guy but I do prefer speeding through the same area in my car more.

Another small pet peeve I have is the moving van, van line, whatever, industry. While some independent moving companies have been helpful, the bigger ones almost routinely refuse to give out any rate over the phone. Look, asshole, if I know how much my shit weighs, and you base everything on weight not size, how is it impossible to give me a quote? In fact, I'm just trying not to waste your time. Perhaps you'd rather send someone out to analyze all my shit instead, come up with a similar amount, give me the quote you could have told me over the phone, and then have me tell you in person to go fuck yourself? Because I can do that. I have a whore mouth like that.

Or you could spend your time more wisely and let me know if what I'm looking for is something you can compete with.

Amazingly though, I was able to get out of them that the less my shit weighed the less priority it had on their very wide delivery window. If I ended up as their smallest load they could take it halfway around the country first and drop my shit off 2 weeks later on the high end. Really, major van line? That sounds fantastic! Why wouldn't I want to let you come see my shit so you can fuck me on how heavy your eyeballs think my stuff is, then deliver it at your leisure over the next half month. Awesome! Where do I give you a deposit?

What's that?

You don't ask for any money until delivery?

Well fuck me with an independent movers stupid 5 day guarantee because if that's one of your selling points I've got a great condo with flooring throughout and a view from the unit to sell you.

~

Attention!

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 19:54:00 +0000

~

I have it on good authority that in September 2010 there will be a 9.0 earthquake that rocks the west coast.

How do I know this?

Well, perhaps my mildly retarded friend and his video camera can explain...

This is the reason Lady Bitchmore and I are moving to Charlotte, NC. In fact, part of our decision was based on their state motto.

EXPERIENCE NORTH CAROLINA! Sunny and beautiful, plus our mildly retarded aren't at all worried about earthquakes!

It was the clincher, really.

Enjoy your weekend. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

(Which gives you a pretty wide berth)

~

FRUSTRATED HOME SHOPPING

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 11:50:00 +0000

~

Lady Bitchmore and I have been scouring craigslist and other outlets for a place to live in our future neighborhood. It's a good time to be looking, but an annoying era in which to do so.

The first problem: Pictures.

In what world do you live where you think you can put a pathetic description of your expensive house up for rent and fail to include a goddamn picture?!? You can't even fucking spell correctly, and worse than that, you aren't smart enough to click on spell check. But that aside, what makes you think someone wants to agree to pay you $1,000 a month for something they can't see and you clearly can't describe?

If you can't spell, I'm going to assume that you can't decorate. You'll have carpet throughout, possibly wallpaper, and the most godawful cabinets and countertops available.

My other favorite move involving pictures? When the clearly retarded homeowner takes 12 pictures of the community pool and clubhouse and 1 picture of the actual home...From the outside.

Straight from craigslist:

The second problem: Descriptions.

There's nothing I want more than to base the largest single expense I'm going to have each month on a three sentence description of your home. Plenty of space AND charming?!? Where do I drop off a huge deposit and first and last month's rent because this sounds too good to be true!

Straight from craigslist:

3 bed 2 bath 2car gar in quiet cul de sac
union co schools
community pool tennis courts
lake for fishing
call ropbbie

SIGN ME THE FUCK RIGHT UP SIGHT UNSEEN! I MUST HAVE THIS!!!

The third problem: Furnished units.

I can honestly say that I have never once seen a listing for a furnished unit that even remotely reflected good taste. Put your ugly fucking furniture in storage and let people use their own shit. Oh yeah! People actually have their own beds and couches, tables and chairs, and maybe you won't believe this...But they sorta like it all. Maybe they paid a shitload for it all. Maybe they'd be interested in utilizing all of it and not going with your wicker theme. Jackass.

Straight from craigslist:

The fourth problem: The internet.

Now that there are a gazillion ways to put your home up for rent or sale you can't figure out where all the listings are. Internet savvy people place their listing in multiple places, often using craigslist. People with no clue use rent.com. Some people willing to rent are only using their professionally purchased from Staples "For Rent" sign in the yard. Then you've got your people listed through realty agencies who are more than willing to rent but you'd never know because unless you contact their agent and they let you know you're fucked.

The other day I called about five people thanks to Lady Bitchmore's sister texting me pictures and numbers of properties renting. I gave a brief explanation of who I was, when I'd be around to hopefully see the place, and both my number and an email address for them to give me information. Apparently nobody is all that interested in renting their home because not a single one of those people have gotten back to me. The realtor LB emailed with questions hasn't gotten back with us either. We need to contact that person because a loft building isn't widely advertised as for rent but we know they do from a previous visit.

We got a picture from her sister of one place that was hard to get a gauge on. We called the number. No answer, which is understandable with my out of state number. But knowing the name of the building, the location, and having a phone number enabled us to find jack fucking squat on the internet. There was the announcement on their website of the property with artist renderings, floor plans, and a contact number. Nothing else and the building is clearly built and renting at this point!

SHOW US YOUR GODDAMN PROPERTY YOU'D LIKE US TO RENT FROM YOU FOR CRYING OUT FUCKING LOUD!!!

I mean, I want to see it and I want information and I'm willing to do that work from another state even if I have to but you are making it way too difficult and for the life of me I can't figure out why you would suck so hard at selling the property you've clearly invested a shitload of money on and maybe I'm living in an alternate universe where every jackass from the east to the west coast has no problem unloading their home and nobody makes an informed decision so you can just put up an artist rendering of your building and 13 pictures of the pool and people far and wide are just going to send you piles of money or flock to your realtor like he's handing out free Cialis and I'll be a monkey's uncle if I ever call them real-TORs no matter how many fucking commercials they make which are quite clearly nothing more than passive aggressive ways of scolding all of us into pronouncing their title correctly as if they should demand the same level of respect a doctor deserves when any jackass with a couple hundred dollars can become a real-TER and also congratulations on finally landing a position almost as awesomely perceived as used car salesmen because we don't need you to decide if we like a goddamn home we just need to see the fucking thing and all you do is muck up the process and rip money from people who are already preparing to give tens of thousands of dollars to a bank above and beyond the actual price of the house because why shouldn't a $250,000 house actually cost $415,000 in payments to a bank who refuses to offer automatic payments FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF HOPING YOU MISS A FUCKING PAYMENT AND THEY CAN DROP A LATE PAYMENT FEE ON TOP OF AN OVER YOUR LIMIT FEE ON TOP OF QUALIFYING YOU FOR AN AUTOMATIC ASS-RAPE OUT OF YOUR MODERATELY DECENT INTEREST RATE STRAIGHT UP TO DOUBLE PENETRATION PROPORTIONS WHEN ALL I REALLY WANT IS SOMEBODY TO JUST FUCKING ACCURATELY DESCRIBE THEIR STUPID FUCKING HOUSE AND INCLUDE SOME HELPFUL GODDAMN PICTURES OR LINKS AND IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK OR ARE YOU TOO BUSY SPENDING ALL OF YOUR TIME CORRECTING PEOPLE THAT YOU AREN'T A FAST FOOD WORKER YOU'RE A SANDWICH "ARTIST"?

~

Hey, Remember Me?

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 14:02:00 +0000

~

Sure you do.

If you're a lady you've no doubt masturbated with me in mind on many occasion.

If you're a dude you probably have the same sort of man-crush on me that I have on that dude from Holmes on Holmes. It's an appreciation of being really really good at something that you aren't. In my case, handsomeness and awesometownliness.

It's a word. Shut up.

So a while back the girlfriend and I started up this little space because we thought it would be interesting to write about our experiences moving in together from 501 miles apart. It was an amazing idea. I still pat myself on the back, though I have to use my right hand each time because my left forearm is extraordinarily muscular from years of "surfing" the net and I can no longer bend my wrist. On a side note, I'm a fantastic butter churner. I can go all day.

Back to my point, though. We fired off a few posts and all was on track until we got sidetracked. Work was tough for her to come by, money became tight, I'd exhausted all free porn videos available on the net, and work was refusing to allow me to transfer to where I wanted to be. All of a sudden my free time for blogging about how large my penis is (We're talking monstrous, ladies) became time better spent going gray and working on a new right hand technique.

But guess what?

Good things come to those who wait. Well, to be fair it also happens to douchebags who don't deserve it. I see it every day, but that's another story. Good things for us, and maybe even good things for you, because it's entirely possible this brings a (or this) blog back from the depths of unusedness.

Totally a word.

So what happened?

The Bracelet-Bitchmore Compound is relocating to Charlotte, NC. A place where (I'm not going to lie in this space because it's not my style) I'll be excited to have a whole new set of minority faces to look at.

Look, I understand that Arab Americans are some of the most pleasant and fantastic looking people on the planet. Not hairy at all, delightful personalities full of sing-songy and melodic speech patterns, and clearly they are everybody's buddy. But it'll be nice to walk in to a gas station, or donut shop, or liquor store, or grocery store, or any store and not see "Sam" or his cousin in his affliction shirt greeting me.

You're probably thinking that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. The population in the D is around 800,000. The neighboring Arab population is about 400,000. It's great that you can get great hommoulli and tabboush, but I need a change of scenery.

I'll be sad to no longer have access to all the friends and family that are here, but I'll be excited to finally live in a place that is on the upswing. A place where I will see more sun. I can play golf all year, maintain a farmer's tan year round, increase the area's consumption of Diet Mountain Dew, and pick up some annoying habits y'all!

So maybe Lady Bitchmore and I will start writing about this new experience. Maybe just me. Who knows?

But, come two months from now I'll be calling a new state home for the first time in 20 years.

I'll call it home, but despite the struggles of the D and my dislike for many things related to it, this has been my home for a long time. I've a million great memories and I'll be judging the hell out of North Carolina against them. Still, it'll be hard not to swap this:

For this:

~

Long Weekends

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Mon, 25 May 2009 12:31:00 +0000

Long weekends are the titties.

I took Elizabeth to a Lebanese place for dinner on Friday. We drive by when I drop her off at the art studio she's spending time at. The name and decor are not indicative of Lebanese food but it's a really neat looking place and E is a sucker for anything with the suffix -noush, -mous, or -ouli. Patchouli being the only exception.

So it turns out I, the pickiest eater on the planet, can be quite happy at a place like this. I love the rice with the vermicilli mixed in and they love making kabobs of meat. It's right up my veggie-hating alley, actually. E gets all sorts of pastes and sauces and non-meats. She loves it, which is why I'm game to bring her to places that generally aren't high on my restaurant priority list.

We also had Lebanese wine. It was a tasty blend of Cab, Cinsault, Mourvedre, and Grenache.

Saturday she was getting her hair done early and we were heading to have dinner at a friend's place later. In between we made Elizabeth's Ice Box Cake. It's so good that I ate it for breakfast the last time she made it. Basically you make some homemade whipped cream and use it like spackle to smush chocolate wafers together in a circle. They should be on their sides like a slinky formed into a circle. Lots of delicious cream in between each cookie. Then you use the rest of the cream to completely cover the cookies. Voila! You've got a kickass dessert that tastes like the best oreo you've ever had. It's light too, so you fatties can get more down.

Sunday we went to the zoo. It's something she hadn't done since being a kid and I had only done once since I was too young to remember. While it's fun to to stuff like that it's also maddening because you get to witness the shittiest people on earth doing their thing. I'll explain.

You know how ducks are suckers for sno-cones? Yeah, me neither. But that didn't stop a kid from dumping his over the railing, almost hitting a duck in the head. What did the dad, who was holding him up do? Absolutely fucking nothing! Not for a single fucking second did he take the time to explain to his kid that what he did was wrong. Look, I know kids do some stupid shit before you have a chance to grab them sometimes, but for the love of the big bang theory you've got to put in a little fucking effort after the fact or your little retard child is going to grow up just like you. Little boy blue and the man on the moon...

Hey, you've seen a peacock before right? They've got that long plumage extending a good five feet off the back of their body. It definitely looks odd. Beautiful, but odd. So this particular zoo has free range animals, of which peacocks are the most interesting and prevalent. Despite signs telling you to not touch the free range animals, or to not run around them, or to generally not approach or bother them, can you guess what both kids AND adults were doing?

How about stepping on the fucking plumage! How about kids running after them and trying desperately to touch them. Fucking ADULTS trying to pet them. And again, not a single parent was doing anything about their kids breaking the rules and scaring the shit out of the birds. Nothing. Look, I'm not perfect. I've done a couple stupid things in my life and I make mistakes. But goddamit there was someone there to point out what I did was wrong and correct me so I didn't grow up to be a completely selfish douchebag with zero respect for anything but myself. Correct your fucking kids when they do something wrong or I will...I will...blog about them and call you a douchebag.

So there!

Later, we see a woman drop her little ziplock bag containing pink wafer sticks for her kid. One of the many kids opting to not walk at all and instead be pushed around in carts or strollers. Those future fat bastards are going to be sitting next to us all on flights some day. Awesome. So anyways, there were about 5 left and the bag fell open and to the ground. A couple fell out and a couple stayed in. The mom apologized to the kid for ruining her snack, kicked the wafers off the path and walked on. We were literally 20 feet from a garbage can.

But my favorite thing was not someone disrespecting the zoo, it's animals, staff, the environment, other people's property, and anyone else in their path. It was a guy trying to do a nice job for his kids near the turtle habitat.

They were behind us and we'd already ascertained that there were no visible turtles at the moment. This guy and his kids was behind us and approaching the area. As he gets close he says in a somewhat slow, sing-songy drawl:

"Look, there's a big ol' turtle."

I take a quick look over and note there are still no turtles.

About 5 seconds later...

"Nope. That's just a log."

Log, turtle, it doesn't matter. The guy was trying. That's all I ask of you assholes out there. I understand that your fat little kid is going to chuck his sloppy joe at an animal. He doesn't know any better. And he isn't getting much distance with his chubby little arms, anyways. But can we agree that you ought to go ahead and explain to Chunk that he wasn't supposed to do that? Maybe put the fear of god in him if he chooses to do it again? Take away his fifth order of dippin' dots? Something?

Anyhow, we finished the day at a local brasserie that has a happy hour that offered half off specials on everything we love. Frites, moules, beer, and even thin crust pizzas were all half off.

Maybe it was a little karmic payback for not being complete douchebags.

Are You Doing Anything Special?

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 15:17:00 +0000

So today is Easter.

I think.

I don't pay too much attention to these sorts of things unless it means I get a day off work. Since Easter always lands on a Sunday I'm already not working, and as a result I never really know when Easter is until it gets close and everyone starts talking about it.

Not unlike Jesus, Oddcoupling was recently resurrected from the dead. Though not born in Bethlehem or of a virgin, Oddcoupling probably did die for your sins. So Oddcoupling is pretty much the same as Jesus. This is a mathematical fact, so suck it.

At any rate, because it's important (Easter) to so many people you end up with this annoying situation upon leaving a conversation where you say your normal "Have a nice day" which is followed by a typical "You too" and then followed by "Happy Easter" which is followed by "Same to you" which is then followed by the standard Easter ritual of killing a bunny, if I'm not mistaken. It's ridiculous. You just can't walk away from people when a holiday is around the corner.

I try to deflect the inevitable three or four tier goodbye ritual by lumping it all in together. "Nice talking with you, have a nice weekend and a happy Easter!" I do this while starting to turn and walk away, but invariably the person you're talking to just can't let it go.

"Thanks. You too......It's supposed to be beautiful this weekend, are you doing anything?"

Yeah. I'm trying to walk away from you, for christsake! Me walking in the opposite direction of you is a great sign of that, just so you know.

All I know is eating Jesus-is-no-longer-dead-chocolate-bunny-candy is the way to go. I'll gladly celebrate the existence of Zeus if it means peeps and M&M's and peanut butter cups.

So anyways, because Oddcoupling has risen from the dead after dying for your sins, (Just like Jesus!) Oddcoupling would like to wish you a Happy Easter.

It's nice out. Are you doing anything special?

Home

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 17:03:00 +0000

I would have updated sooner, but there was the moving stuff and the moving more stuff and also hanging things on walls and cleaning things up and there has been the drinking of lots of wine, because we have had things to celebrate (see: accomplishing all of the above).

Before you see all of the lovely pictures of our new place, I will first tell you all of the things I love about my new town. Within walking distance, I have already found:

A great wine shop where it is seemingly impossible to find a bad bottle of wine. Hey, someone has to provide the celebratory vino, right?

A yoga studio, which I've only been to once, but so far, so good.

A health food store, right next to the yoga studio, where yesterday, an older bearded gentleman shopped for organic Mexican fare, soy milk and vitamins while very much barefoot.

Several really adorable shops full of antiques, clothes and general awesomeness.

All of that, a man who is more amazing when I see him every day than he was before we lived together, and this is our place:

Life is good.

Roadside Attractions

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 11:23:00 +0000

If you happened to miss the last post by Elizabeth, you ought to go read it. She does a great job embarrassing me by telling you all of the sweet little things I do.

Don't worry, though. I've since played some tackle football, lit a few things on fire, and drove around all weekend long without looking at directions. So I'm all man again.

We're now looking at six days until we pick up the Penske truck (Still amazed that it was considerably cheaper than a Uhaul) and begin loading that sucka up for a cross country journey. OK, so we're only going a couple states to the left. But it's still gonna take a good 12 hours of driving so it'll feel like the entire country. Get off our nuts.

I was kinda hoping to find some sweet attractions to stop at along the way. My first thought was the Biggest Ball of Twine, which Weird Al Yankovic taught me is unfortunately in Minnesota. So then I just set my google-fu free and here's what I found...

In Clearfield, PA we can try the 15lb burger.

Tom Mix's Outhouse in Driftwood, PA!

Earnest Angley's Cathedral Buffet and Life of Christ Display in Cuyahoga Falls, OH!

The Doodlebug Train Horror Monument, also in Cuyahoga Falls, OH!

Quaker Square in Akron where we can sleep in a grain silo!

And Finally, the Goodyear World of Rubber Museum in Akron!

I'm all about celebrating rubbers.

I'll be interested to see the BTC Display (Bracelet to Tractor Conversion) in the East wing. It's said that the amount of rubber it takes to comfortably cover my junk during safe intercourse is roughly equivalent to the amount it takes to make a Goodyear tractor tire.

We'll see.

At any rate it's an exciting week. I've got a lot of prep work to get done so that we can move directly to our new pad. I'm lucky in that I've been staying at a furnished place so the majority of my stuff is in a storage locker already. I could probably fit what I have here right now into my car. There will be a few things to take out of storage, which might be a minor pain in the ass, but at least I won't have to box much stuff.

I'll be using drug sample boxes for my gear and I hear Elizabeth will be using liquor boxes. The neighbors are going to look at us funny. But that's nothing. Just wait until they hear the monkey sex noises from the terrace.

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 16:58:00 +0000

It's one week until my man swoops in here and moves me there, and I have so many thoughts and emotions battling around within me, that I'm a bit of a bundle of nerves, and also very easily irritated because why are people asking me stupid questions when I have to figure out how many boxes will fit into whatever cubic feet of space that truck is? Also, the procrastinator in me (which takes up about 82% of my body) is losing its battle with the other parts (the daydreaming part, the organized part, etc) and is staging a coo. It's forcing other projects upon me through some bizarre procrastination universal pull, and those projects are taking entirely too much time and consuming more energy than they should. So I decided to take a few minutes and reflect on all of the reasons this internal torture and external upheaval of all my stuff is so worth it, and then I thought to myself, "hey, what if I shared those very good reasons with everyone, and that way I can simultaneously ease my mind and embarrass my man at the same time by writing it all over the interwebs!!!"

Ten random things, in no particular order:

1. I receive messages throughout the day, quoting very solid facts about important things, like how brewing coffee in a brand new loft apartment makes it 14% more delicious (this morning's fact). Made much more important if you realize that coffee is necessary to my very survival...more on that in a bit.

2. When I freak out about stuff, and decide that I am not going to talk to anyone so go away and leave me alone, and yes, that means even you, he somehow finds the perfect balance between giving me space and sending me messages just sweet enough to coax me from my shell, built of stubborn and ick.

3. The conversation we had where I finally told him I was ready to move, I could hear him smiling in such a way that I wanted to jump through the phone at that moment just to see if it was half as cute as it sounded. That is a conversation I will never forget, because it is the only time in my life I have ever said one sentence to someone and made them that happy.

4. He goes behind my back and talks to my family about how he will make sure I stay in touch better (because I am terrible terrible terrible about that)

5. He will no longer have to get up before me, run to Starbucks and come back before I've even gotten out of bed, because he knows I'll be cranky if I don't have my coffee first thing. I, in fact, have my sweet espresso machine that I will be moving into our place, because he gave it to me.

6. He is more than willing to put up with all of my ~~idiosyncrasies~~ convictions about my home...there are too many to list here, but perhaps in a later post. I will say that one is no tv in the bedroom, and that's a big one, considering we will now have 2 large flat screens, so one of them will be relegated to the spare bedroom/office.

7. He happens to have the most amazing family of sweet, generous and thoughtful people, and a group of friends who I get to inherit by default...totally lucked out on that. It makes moving away from everything and everyone I know so well much less scary.

8. While I have been avoiding the practical matters of the move, and instead have found it useful (in my own head) to find things to focus on, like new bedding! and towels! he has taken it upon himself to actually book a plane ticket to fly here, and a truck with which to move all of my stuff. I'm pretty sure the move wouldn't happen based on whether or not we find 500 thread count sheets that are appropriately cute, so that's probably good.

9. I'm going to sleep really, really well. I have ridiculous insomnia. It comes and goes, and is particularly fierce when I'm stressed out. In the two years we've been together, I've had trouble sleeping once while we were in the same place. Once. That is miraculous.

10. Before he realized I was seriously considering the move, he tried to entice me with various bribes. We have ummmm differing opinions about what dogs are cute. I will always have a dog, it just makes home feel homier for me. My dog is getting older, and I'm trying to accept the fact that she will not, in fact, outlive me. We have discussed getting another dog when that day comes, and hit a stalemate because I have a thing for the smush-faced dogs. I had a Shar-Pei, who I thought was the cutest thing ever, I love bulldogs. He thinks they are uncute, which is just ridiculous. He promised me I could get whatever smush-faced dog I wanted. Bribery is awesome. That dog will look a little something like this:

As a compromise, I think we should name him Fletcher.

In Answer

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 02:48:00 +0000

Obviously I'm going to have opinions about what is going on our patio...and by opinions, I mean I'm the boss of that sort of stuff.

This is the general idea of what I'm looking to do out there.

Feel free to bring any of these things by as a housewarming gift!

Or, you know, a good bottle of wine works, too. But then, we won't have awesome furniture to sit on, so that will be all your fault.

Yes, the 2 bathroom thing is a must. I'm not sure it will be necessary to McGuyver any locks, since I won't be attempting to barge in on the bathroom when the door is closed. Though you all are extremely inventive and I'm impressed!

Two Bathrooms

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 11:44:00 +0000

Many of you have given us your recipe for successful cohabitation. From making sure there is a separate room to disappear in if necessary (having your own space) to making sure there are two bathrooms all the way to avoiding living together at all fucking cost, we've heard it all.

Thanks for the tips.

Personally (And um, such as) I believe the two bathroom thing is the most important. I will never, and I repeat NEVER, be the guy who invites people in for a discussion while he's negotiating the release of some chocolate hostages. EVER! Nor will I be the one who gets invited in while his significant other is doing the same thing so they can have a conversation about, well, whatever it is people who talk to each other while one is dropping deuce would talk about.

Now I know some of you are out there thinking that it's just a matter of time before it happens. Then, once the flood gates are open it'll happen all the time. Well, let me be the first to say No Fucking Way!

Many of my neuroses might be (Read: most certainly are) ridiculous, but a few of them are so solidly ingrained in my headball (Medical term) that there will never be a change in how I think.

To name a few things that will never change:

Pooping while in the same bathroom as anyone
Hating mustard
Hating people
Never forgiving Twix for changing the cookie in their Peanut Butter Twix
Never forgiving KitKat for doing away with the foil in lieu of shrink wrap
Midgets
Left handed people
Swedes

Alright, so the list got away from me. Get off my nuts. You get the basic idea and that's what counts.

One of the nicest things about this new joint is the master bath is as far from the living room and kitchen as is physically possible. Which means I don't have to sit in there wondering if everyone can hear me. The bathroom to guests distancing in this place is wonderfully designed.

There is one minor issue that will need some looking into. The doors are sliding track doors so there isn't a lock on them. I'll have to figure out a way to design a locking mechanism.

To do this I'll be spending a few hours catching up on my DVR'd McGuyver episodes. He's gotta have some ingenious rigging mechanism I can duplicate.

We reserved a truck with Penske last night. It was almost a couple hundred dollars cheaper than Uhaul for the same size. Plus, and I don't know why I feel this way, for some reason it makes me a little happier inside knowing that I didn't use Uhaul.

Looks like we'll end up driving halfway and shacking up for the night before making the second half the trip in the morning. This way we can arrive at a decent time for people to help us unpack and we don't have to sit in a moving truck for 11 hours straight. Elizabeth hates long car rides and I will be doing all the driving, so this plan sounds good to me.

Ever look for pet-friendly hotels? Fucking ripoffs. One place wanted $75 for a non-refundable pet charge. Most pets are more civilized and clean than your average loser U.S. American is (and also, such as, thee Iraq) and often they're more quite. Looks like I found one for a ten dollar fee that will work just fine.

Lastly, what do you do with a private 22x23ft terrace? Besides have wild outdoor monkey sex, I mean. Like, what do you put out there besides a grill and table with chairs to utilize the space?

Feel free to give us ideas, call me a fag, or ask me for a link exchange in comments. I like what you're doing over at your blog these days, so I'm down.

TWO WEEKS

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 17:18:00 +0000

Two weeks from today I will be helping load a U-Haul truck with Elizabeth's (Read: The only stuff allowed in our new apartment) stuff. Apparently my green leather recliner is not welcome. She's lucky there isn't a basement or enough square footage for it anyways. My man cave will have to wait.

So the place I'll be attempting to lock down for us is going to be a half mile walk from a bustling city center. It's THEE destination for nightlife in the area. The Suburban Socialites, if you want to sound like a complete douche, flock to the area for the bars and restaurants. It's also a huge draw for the newly married as most of the homes in the surrounding area are perfectly sized bungalows and such.

We'll be going two bed two bath industrial design loft with a sick terrace. Seriously, this fucker is a 22x23 private terrace. It's total square footage is damn near half the size of the loft!

A buddy of mine already brought up the idea of an outdoor poker game, and I think that idea, as my mom would say, is the titties.

The best part of the whole deal is that they have a ridiculous two month free offer right now because they need to start generating some income. The place was originally slated for purchase only. Turns out the bad economy helped us in this case.

I loves me some free rent!

What more could Elizabeth want? Concrete stained flooring, exposed brick and ductwork, and me walking around naked every morning. (Your welcome for that image, by the way)

Here are a couple examples. Not the best pictures in the world, but at least it will give you a tiny idea.

It's mostly identical in design to what we'll have. The walls won't be that bright and black guys won't be allowed in our living room. Gotcha! Kidding, of course. We'll totally allow black people in our living room. Besides, I'm basically black from the waist down, out on the dance floor, and while out on the basketball court anyways. I am a man of the people.

So long as you aren't a douchebag or a D-Lister, you'll be welcome.

(Sorry Joaquin)

((Goddamn, I'm on fire this morning!))

holy crap

noreply@blogger.com (elizabeth) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 04:03:00 +0000

I'm blogging, bitches. It's for good reason. Things are about to change drastically. For those of you in the midwest...sorry, but you are about to be invaded, because after waiting and waiting and waiting and more waiting, we (I) have decided that since the move down south isn't going to be possible any time soon (thanks, shitty economy and lack of job transfer possibilities!), it's time to bite the bullet. So, later this month I will be moving out there. There. I wrote it. It's totally real now.

After the saddest MYTGOD post ever, I'm sure there were those of you who were all "ugh, what a heartless bitch." The fact is that deciding NOT to go then and there was very difficult. However, it would have been the result of a hot-headed and rash decision and likely would have resulted in the loss of one of my best friends. So, I got some stuff cleared up and feel a lot better about making the move in a few weeks. Not that I'm happy about moving there. It's cold...colder than it is here, and I realize that people who live in that general vicinity will claim that this is just snobbery, but the fact is that culture, cuisine and general life pace is just vastly different. When the closest large city requires a Kevlar® vest, people just tend to chill out in their subdivisions 40 minutes away from everything else. It's just foreign to me. So fine, I suck, but deal with it.

There is plenty I have to be happy about there. Most importantly is my man, who was audibly thrilled when I told him about my decision to move yesterday. He has already started laying the groundwork for finding us a sweet pad in a place that I will hate the least amount possible. That should be a fun project! It's possible he'll be regretting his insistence that I move there once he tries to find said pad. Now he's stuck with me.

Ode To Baltos

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 01:15:00 +0000

Oh Baltos, how you woo me with your deliciousness
Artistic label alone you are not
You move me, center me, on a cold day
In the middle of summer
Get off my back
I'm not a poet
Earthy with velvet upon finish
Sure to win you butt sex from the ladies
Two or more bottles of you
Makes for shitty poetry

For You

noreply@blogger.com (The Bracelet) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 01:55:00 +0000

All seven of you, loyal readers.

I officially put in for a transfer to my future home a few weeks back. Everyone seemed ok with it and I resumed my normal business duties, which include looking fan-fucking-tastic and kicking competitor ass.

Then, a higher up is speaking with a teammate of mine and when I get brought up (Because I always do, you see. I'm like the largest bag of beef jerky in the world's largest beef jerky store. If that makes any sense) and this higher up proceeds to explain to my fellow employee how I won't be able to transfer for at least a year.

It isn't because I'm bad at what I do. Believe me, I'm the Lexington Steele of my industry. Bigger, stronger, blacker.

It happens to be because of some potential restructuring that will be going on within the company. Because of this the timing happens to be about as bad as you could ask for in terms of transfering.

This craptacular luck is right up my alley.

The Detroit Tigers were on a 6 game winning streak when I finally bet on them. They had won something retarded like a hundred zillion games out of a hundred zillion and one.

They, of course, lost.

Now I owe the Drizzle a ten spot and I have to come to terms (yet again) with how shitty my timing and luck is.

For example...

Ah, fuck it. I ain't giving any examples.

You'll just have to trust me. I have shitty luck and timing.

Anyone who has witnessed me gamble can attest to this.

Thankfully I still have the love and support of s particular female to help keep me from going postal and shanking someone.

Thank you, ~~Japanese restaurant waitress lady~~ Elizabeth, for letting me luck out and win the relationship lottery.

I haven't been lucky in a relationship since old man Jackson failed to see me hiding behind the haystacks. Both of his daughters would like to thank you for that as well.

Of course, Bella can't form sentences any longer, on account of the thrashing I gave her, so you'll have to interpret her hand signals and grunts to get the full picture. If she happens to grunt with wide eyes it's because she pooped herself.

Just so you know.