More Moving

I've packed probably 60% of my things, and I move in less than two days. Its strange, it seems that everything in the room has some kind of emotional attatchment. The fossilized worm holes David gave me, the numerous pewter figurines my mother bought me a few years back, the other crap that was bought. I can't be bothered to remember what it is.

I no longer look at the hole Michael put in the bathroom wall with anger, but with mixed feelings of nostalgia and and sadness.

Yes, Michael, you put a hole in the bathroom wall. Right next to the toilet. You were pretty drunk, but I know it was you. You were the only person in there. I'm not mad, which is why I never mentioned it. I don't even know why I said "no longer" because I wasn't angry in the first damn place. As a matter of fact, the only thing I remember thinking about that hole was "Huh, that musta been Wiley."

Sean gave me a lock of hair, Michael is gonna give me Superarmatron, which iscool. I suggested I take his girlfriend instead, but he wasn't too keen on that. Niether was she. Fuckers.

Also, and this is strange to me, but moving seems to be an aphrodisiac. Women with little/no interest in me before are now calling me, and attempting sex. It certainly is interesting, however, irritating, since the one person I wanna have sex with won't have sex with me. Fuckers.

Anyhew, moving is a pain in the ass and I know that there will be a big ass buncha wrinkles in all my favorite suit coats and that's gonna piss me off.

But hey, onward and upward.