They’re in the vodka vases by the window
I can’t forget the day that you forgot me
When your kisses got so vicious
I tell ya, it’s getting harder and harder to come up with anything good and halfway meaningful to write for you guys. I’m sure my last column’s heading and closing lyrics pissed off and alienated a bunch of people. Oh well, nothing I can do about it if you don’t have a sense of humor. You should really consider investing in one, though. Without one, life is going to be a much worse and shorter place for you. Don’t take my word for it, though. Just ask all those people in the Middle Ages. You ever wonder why they all died before they were thirty? They didn’t laugh enough. Poor medical care, the Bubonic Plague, etc. had nothing to do with it. They just lacked one of the most important things a person must have in order to live a full, enjoyable life — a sense of humor.
I would like to take this opportunity to personally thank Damiana and Launch for featuring my site in their current issue. Outside approval is such a big thing to all of us — whether or not you want to admit it — and it truly feels good to know that at least one person over there at Diarist.net thinks my work is commendable. Thanks again.
So it’s the usual stuff for me, really. Same shit, different date. Except for the fact that I’m not crushing on anyone, not really worried about anything, and just taking it one day at a time. We went down to Austin to do the final inspection on our house earlier today and blew a tire on our way down. Fixed that and got a new tire. No problem, really. Got there a little late. I was waiting for the builder to say something about our tardiness so I could say, “Yeah, well, at least we’re not a month and a half late.” Which is how far past the original closing date for our house they are. He didn’t say anything about it, so I didn’t get to say that. Kind of disappointing. We went through the house marking problems we saw. I swear, G Dogg Homies, I tore it up. He had a roll of blue tape to mark all the spots we saw that needed to be fixed. I got the roll from him and went to work. That house was pretty damn blue when I got done. Hint: Always check behind all the doors and in the little storage areas under your stairs. They always think they can get away with those places. Ha. You must be kidding me. If I’m going to be shelling out $120,000 for a house (not including interest) for the next thirty years, it damn well better be done right. I don’t think he really liked me after all the problems I found. He asked me one time, “What are you? the inspector?” I replied, “Yep.” We close on the house Monday morning and will start moving in probably Wednesday and over Thanksgiving.
It’s cool. I’ve met some people (okay, girls) from there online (opposite sex research of the area — can’t you tell I used to be a market researcher?) and they all seem pretty cool. Maybe a little high-class snottiness, but that’s to be expected, I suppose. We’ll all find that right person someday, I think. If that one person exists. We may just have to mix-and-match. Might just have to all become Mormons and move to Utah. Whatever it takes. Happiness is the goal.
I really need some opinions. I encourage you all to sound off on this via email. Does there exist one perfect person for each of us? Yes or no. If not, whatdo you think is the key?
By the way, welcome all newcomers!
Your half-and-half white lies
Back around Ninety-two
I lost god, I found you