For the first time in my life I purchased a piece of furniture somewhere other than Ikea. Where is this magical store, you ask, the place where people go to become adults? It's everywhere.
Also, my first project in the new kitchen: biscuit-infused bourbon. Only problem is I don't know if it's possible. Teach me.
Today we got a Zipcar (learn it) to finish getting our stuff out of the old apartment. I reserved it for 3pm. The person who had it before me was half an hour late, which is annoying, since I was forced to basically stand on the corner while he kept telling Zipcar that he was right around the corner.
When he arrived, I gave him a minute to get his stuff and get out without having to apologize to me for being late, because I hate that interaction. He seemed in no hurry to get out of the car, so I finally knocked on the window. This, people, is when I met Don P.
Don P got out of the car, apologized, and handed me a CD. "It's my comedy CD," he says. "It's like Adam Sandler."
No more convincing is necessary. I'm sold. And guess what, people? SO ARE YOU. Behold the Opus of Don P.
In this 26 minute "set," which may or may not have been recorded in his basement and may or may not include piped-in laugh tracks, split recordings, and staged audience interaction, Don P covers all the hot topics of comedy today. For example:
On sex:
"You know what else people lie about? Sex."
On being mistaken for latino:
"Come on, amigos! How many spanish people you know who are 6'3" with a ten-inch penis?"
On similarities between the races:
"White people and black people, we do alot of the same things!"
On drugs:
"Why is marijuana illegal, but they sell the blunt papers in the stores!"
On foreigners:
"You're from Turkey? How y'all greet each other over there? Cockadoodledoo?"
Beware, this gem of truly Adam Sandleresque comedy is on the raunchy side. Deffo NSFW, as the bloggers say. But SSFEE (Super Safe for Everywhere Else).
The BP down the street from us has these muffins. I learned that in Spanish, plurals change Ks to Qs.
In boring news about old apartment, landlord has lost his mind. He has alternately argued that he didn't know any of my roommate's names, didn't know we had cats, didn't know we had a dog, and confused me with my roommate's boyfriend on multiple occasions. Yesterday he told me that we would be splitting cleaning duties of the tiny foyer with the apartment above us, and when I walked in today I saw that he was speaking very literally:
Look who got her first credit card!
In other news, a couple of big phlogportunities coming up this week: visiting with Jill & Tyler at their Harper's Ferry World of Wonder (my name) and movingtime!
I've been living in what my former roommates affectionately called "The Hole" for nearly three years now. That time is almost over. Our lease is up at the end of April, and we're moving up and beyond into the ether of not having roommates. This, people have told us, is what people in their 30s do. Seems extravagant, I know, but one must follow the status quo.
The first apartment we looked at was meh, what with the carpeting and ugly kitchen. But then today we saw this beautiful thing, with a front porch and windows that open!
And not to mention a view of something other than a port-o-potty.
Let's all hold our collective noses until Mr. Landlord says that he wants us for sure.
BONUSBONUSBONUS SQUIRREL EATING PIZZA
SUPERBONUSDEFFOREVIEW The Washington Post ("WaPo") travel section this weekend tried to prove that Salt Lake City does indeed have a nightlife, regardless of what the naysayers naysay. Nice lede, WaPo!
What is so "lively," you ask? Well, it seems that "Jersey Sports Grill" is. Only the appetizers they ordered never came. So is "Zanzibar," except for the fact that the cocktails were gross. And finally, "Port O'Call," a place that had lots of people in line.
I lived in Salt Lake City for a year. In fact, I lived in Salt Lake City for the year when the Olympics were there, which is probably the best possible year for somebody who wants to not be bored in Utah. I bartended in Salt Lake City at a pool hall called "Ya' Buts," formerly called "Spanky's," which was formerly an adult theater. It is now a parking lot. RIP, Ya' Buts. You gave me $35 in income every Monday night, give or take.
Guess what I did for fun in Salt Lake City? I went to Nevada and gambled. The only thing good about Salt Lake City, people, is the meth. Believe it.
