Well We're Movin' On Up.......To The East Side

Moving is a joy, and I highly recommend it to everybody.

In truth, I feel a little guilty. I mean, YOU haven't been able to experience the orgasmic pleasures that I've been able to engage in over the last several days. Don't be fooled. Some people will tell you that moving is a horrible experience. These people have NO sense of adventure.

Seriously, do you REALLY think that it's NOT exciting to have a small group of illegal immigrants come into your home, and place all your personal goods into cardboard boxes?

You don't?

Well, you're just crazy.

Personally, I have spent sleepless nights, dreaming about the possibility of a slimy, illegal thing handling my underwear. That's just fun is what that is!!!!

Then, when the "quality" individuals come to actually load your things onto a truck, that is a thrill in and of itself.

Me: They had to bring that in through the garage. Are you going to be able to fit it through the door?

Mover Guy: If we can't do it easily, we'll force it.

Me: Well, okay.....Wait.....What?

Mover Guy: We'll force it. You bought the insurance, right?

Me: Insurance? I....Uhhh.....

Mover Guy: You can buff a lot of the scratches right out.

Me: Uhhh....I don't think that's right.

Mover Guy: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were a PROFESSIONAL mover, like myself.

Me: Well, no. I talk on the radio.

Mover Guy: Oh....I'm sorry....Were all the heterosexual jobs taken?

Me: Shut up.

Then, after a series of VERY uncomfortable crashes, and scrapings, your stuff is on a large truck!!! Shoved in, good and tight, like the way you used to clean your room by shoving everything into the closet, and slamming the door real quick before it would come exploding out!!!!!

Then the journey REALLY begins.

Me: Well, we'll see you guys in New Jersey.

Mover Guy: (shuffling paperwork) Uhhh.....New Jersey?

Me: Yeah....We're moving to New Jersey.

Mover Guy: New Jersey.....That's......Sort of.....East-ish, right?

Me: East-ish?

Mover Guy: West-ish?

Me: This is gonna go good. I can feel it.

Mover guy: North-ish?

Me: Stop it.

After a stressful two days, with several frantic phone calls from the movers, your stuff arrives at your new home. You aren't a hundred percent certain, but you're pretty sure that the driver had NO idea that he had made it to the right house. Rather, he saw you standing outside your home, recognized you, and slammed on his breaks. Dumb luck. Either way, your stuff is here.

Now, you expect to have 215 boxes, containing most of your life, place in the room where they need to be. But, then you remember that illegal aliens......possibly illegal SPACE aliens......packed your stuff. So, when you look at the boxes, and try to determine which rooms they go in, you realize that they don't have any actual words on them. Rather, it's more of a collection of random letters that don't really mean anything. (Sort of like this blog, only funnier.)

So, because of this, you end up having several conversations with your wife that go like this:

Wife: Do you know which box the Tivo cord is in?

Me: No.

Wife: THE TIVO CORD!

Me: I heard you. I just don't know where it is.

Wife: It's about 3 feet long.

Me: There are 215 boxes, marked with made up words.....You see how this information doesn't help me, don't you?

Wife: It goes to the Tivo!!

Me: I sense that we aren't communicating.

Wife: You're an idiot.

Me: I understood that.

Wife: Well, then we are communicating just fine.

Then, if you are REALLY lucky, you bought a house with a pool. AND, if you are REALLY, super, neo, maxi-zoomed lucky, like me, YOUR DOG decides to take a dip in the pool......Your dog who can't swim......And, since you got out of the "doggie-snuff" film business YEARS ago, you get to jump into the pool, at around midnight, and save your dog. Mind you, this dog would NOT save you. This particular dog would probably bring the bullets to your execution, because it still blames you for putting ear medication in her ears, almost two years ago!! But, you do it. Mainly because your wife would get mad, seeing a dead dog in the pool, and she already hates you. Why pour gas on a fire?

After the movers leave, and you've placed your dog on suicide watch (just to be safe), you settle down. You find solace in the fact that all your stuff is now in one place. You try and close your eyes, and get in a little rest.....

Then, your wife screams from upstairs that you STILL haven't found the Tivo cord.

And you wish someone would pack you in a box, write make believe words on it, and take you someplace else.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go look for the Tivo cord....So I can choke my self with it.

Casey