Sports Bra Holes Yelping

Thanks to Yelp we were heading a few miles across the big city to a deli I had found to surprise my wife. It sounded like the kind of place she would really like. So naturally we arrived and they were closed, even though Yelp and the sign on the door indicated they should be open. There was no note offering an explanation why, either, yet inside my wife saw someone who was studiously ignoring the fact that we existed. Nice. Such is a typical night out with the Guru.

I thought about giving them a one-star review to express my displeasure but, like always, found a way to restrain myself. I am nothing if not centered and calm.

We put our heads together and came up with Plan B: Drive around aimlessly until one of the myriad of assembled shitholes called to us. Adventure is our new norm and that’s how we roll.

So it was that we came to a shady joint not far from our new home and decided to try it out. And, get this, without Yelping it first! I know! Oh heady adventure. What surprises lie in wait?

Truck You

Today I offer a short photo essay regarding the object that wrecked my life made the big move possible: Ye olde moving truck.

Even the selection of the truck was a source of consternation. The U-Haul website said that the 24′ truck was for a “3 – 4 bedroom home.” That’s a verbatim quote. Since we had a three bedroom home, my wife thought this was a logical selection.

Yet, there I was, like Oliver again, somehow wanting more.

When you stop to think about it, moving is taking yourself and all of your stuff to a new address.
–Tom B. Taker, philosopher

The biggest truck you could get was the 26′ truck which was billed for “4+ bedrooms.” I wanted that truck. Like I explained to my wife, loading always takes longer than unloading and a bit of extra breathing room would allow us to avoid a real life game of Tetris with our precious belongings. Besides, I reasoned, the larger truck was only 10% more cost, about $265 vs. $240.

FYI: The loading to unloading ratio was about 10:1. Every 10 hours of loading time required about one hour to offload. I know because I was there with a stopwatch yelling, “Eureka!”

In the end we went with the larger truck and guess what? And guess what? Our humble three bedroom abode didn’t fit. We had to leave shit behind and strap my Trek mountain bike to the hood of my wife’s car. And, this was my wife’s brilliant idea, the cat’s litter box had to ride in the cab of the truck with me. I shit you not! (The poop tag requirements for this post have now been satisfied.)

We are owned by our precious possessions, but that’s another story.

Keep on truckin’!

About 1/3 loaded. Tetris blocks are beginning to confound.

In the photo below we see the fully loaded masterpiece. Note: This is before we crammed in everything we had filling in every nook and cranny more than a Thomas’ english muffin.

This photo documents one of the happiest moments of my life. Virginal status has been restored.

Eye Shant Pee Removed

I’ve got good news for everyone. Gather round. Verily, hear unto me. I shall speaketh the words of The Move.

Oh, and the good news? My memory ain’t what it used to be. So I’ve forgotten about 99.99% of the laments I wished to document in this post. That’s good news for you, the loyal reader.

These are the facts as we know them right now. On or about Thursday, June 13th, a 26′ foot U-Haul truck rolled over my existence. The next four days of my life were consumed by dreams of said truck, with visions of boxes filling my head. Morning, noon and nights whiled away whilst moving boxes in and out of The Great Truck.

That’s about all I remember, really. The Tom B. Taker y’all knew is dead. He’s been replaced by this empty nutshell.

Oh, one other thing. The process of unloading our precious possessions (my precious!) into our new home necessitated the reality that doors remained open for convenience. The doors gaped wide open for two days straight. During this time, the local flora and fauna made use of the opportunity to move in with us. They made themselves right at home. Really, though, it was mainly flies with a few spider mascots thrown in for good measure.

Sunday, after returning the abomination of a U-Haul truck, I dragged my broken body through that portal into the new dimension. As the portal closed behind me, I gravely regarded the gathered throng of flies.

I collapsed into the assembled legions of my follows and they caught me and I was lifted up by millions of furiously beating little wings. “Daddy’s home,” I bellowed. “What the fuck is this? Amityville?” The flies parted and the walls began to gushing blood and they bowed to their new Lord…

Oh, beloved Musca Domestica! At least when humans are forced to turn to insects for survival I’ll already have my very own ready-to-go meal.

Luckily, like I indicated earlier, that’s about all I remember, so the story ends here. Hallelujah!

Paranormal Investigations – Gerbil Edition #video

There are two great mysteries in the life that one must unravel before traveling to the Great Beyond. One is the nature of the Bermuda Triangle. The other is, of course, how gerbils cause household items to go missing from the space-time continuum.

Today we uncover a disturbing piece of evidence that goes a long way towards explaining what really happens. I took the following raw footage at great risk of life and limb.

If you’re not willing to invest one minute and 44 seconds of your precious existence in the following ode to cinema, then I guess you really do hate my guts.

Hang on tight and be prepared for the twist at the end. “I see gerbil people!!!”

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Keep the change, ya filthy animal.

Change of Address

I live on the surface of a rotating planetoid. The speed of rotation is approx. 1,000 miles per hour.

Meanwhile, the planet itself is moving about 67,000 miles per hour around the sun.

The sun is the center of our solar system, which is also moving around the center of our galaxy at approx. 490,000 miles per hour.

The galaxy is moving towards something called the Great Attractor, appox. 150 million light years away, at a rate of 1,000 kilometers per second.

In other words, I just want it to be known my physical location on this planetoid is changing by about 2.5 degrees of latitude. That’s a lot!

Moving Paradoxes

A pending move means boxes. Packing lots and lots of boxes.

The more you pack the more exhausted you get.

The more exhausted you get the more you require peaceful, restful sleep.

The more you require sleep the more the more you lie in bed with your eyes open.

Can’t sleep. Might as well get up and pack some more boxes and make myself more tired.

Save The Future Date

The year is 2008. You’ve just joined the ranks of hardy souls dotted across the great American fruited plain who are known as entrepreneurs. You go out buy a van for your youngling business and emblazon your stupid company name in colorful graphics on the side. And then, because you want to project an image of stability, you add a little something extra.

“Since 1963.”

Not bad. You’re only lying by 45 years. That’s especially impressive since you haven’t even lived on the planet that long. You don’t need to tell the truth. You’re a small business owner! Actual patience and hard work is for idiots. You earn your money the new-fashioned way.

If you’re going to lie, why play small ball? Go so big and audacious that it’ll never occur to anyone to question the lie. It’s like you’re Darth Vader, your company is the Empire, and the lie is your own personal Death Star. “We’ll blow your wallet up.”

By the way, this is exactly one of the plot points in the movie Sunshine Cleaning. Look it up. I never forget a lie.

In fact, I was so taken by that lie, I decided to get in on that action myself. Check it out.

We are proud to introduce…

Abyss Inc., Corporation, LLC
Since 2042

“Home of the World’s Best Guru.”

You can trust us. We’re only hiding behind at least three different forms of legal constructs. And a handshake.

Oh, shit. I might be doing it wrong. I guess if one is going to lie about the year one should understand the nature of the timeline. Maybe I should have tried 2013. B.C. Before Corporations. The B.C. could be in the fine print. A font size of -12 picas should do it.

Next up: Advertising. And I intend to ape the very, very best. Fast food.

Recycling Recharge #photography

For eight years we’ve tried not to obtain any AA batteries. Instead we got a fancy charger and four sets of batteries to feed (in an eco-friendly way) our power-hungry cameras. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to take masterpiece photographs like the one featured in this very post.

Even so, occasionally we’d fail and still somehow end up buying those piece of shit single-use AAs. I couldn’t bring myself to toss them in the trash so I stuck ‘em in a jar on the shelf. The thought of my used up batteries leeching chemicals into the Earth thousands of years after I was gone just didn’t sit right with me.

Over time the collection slowly grew. I tried to put it out of my mind. No place local would take them. I had no clue what to do.

Present Day

Moving day looms large. It’s only three days until I’m supposed to fill that truck. Meanwhile, what to do with my rotting collection of AA carcasses? My choices seem obvious. Pack them and haul them to the new house (even more dead weight up used up possessions) or give up and throw them in the garbage because my body is destroyed from packing and I have no fight left in me.

I guess I could throw them in a fire and roast hotdogs and marshmallows on them. Seems a fitting end. For both of us.

Sometimes the path of giving up and giving in can lead to the ultimate liberation. I should know. I have plenty of experience with both.

Ah, shit. I don’t have the guts to toss ‘em in the landfill. I guess they’ll make a nice paperweight in my new office. Till death do us part! Maybe I can be buried with them. “Here lies Tom B. Taker. He’s all charged up about it.”