Imagine No Possessions

My apartment looks like a war zone. It's so horrific. Like, if they brought a camera in and filmed it, the news would have to edit the footage before airing it on television.

It has been said that every person who has walked into my apartment this week has had to start taking Prozac to continue functioning.

Strangers, I'm in a battle with my things. So far, everyone is a casualty.

I got a stack of boxes, placed them in the center of the front room, and started carefully sifting through each of my items. During the course of this organizing and packing process, I went through all of the stages of grief in a never-ending loop.

I hate moving.

More Pictures from My Phone

This weekend I bring you more pictures from my phone. It's fun for me to glance through these and look at the captured bits of life I run into, mostly here in Salt Lake City. (Wow, I'm so poetic). Some of these pictures I may have posted on the Facebook page. Sorry if seeing them a second time ruins your life. And by the way, please like stranger on Facebook if you haven't already. It's just not the same over there without you (he says impersonally to everyone at once).

Bob and Cathie at their best

Moving & Prostitution

Moving is truly the worst thing ever. I'm revising my list.

5. Animals
4. Grocery Shopping
3. A bunch of other stuff that's also miserable
2. Glee
1. Moving

I know. Moving is listed as worse than Glee. I'm sure that will change again once the new season starts. But for now, moving is seriously the worst thing ever.

And it feels especially horrible right now because, guess what, I'm moving to another country. One that I have never been to before. One that I probably still can't point out on a map because I've been too lazy to look it up. (I crossed out that last part because I'm too embarrassed for you to see it).

So here's the thing. I have to be out of my apartment by the end of next week. But I'm not going to Palau until the end of next month. That's a one month forced head-start on the move to the other side of the planet. Also, let's hear it for homelessness!

I am SO going to cramp Bob and Cathie's style when all their friends come over to play Canasta.

Sleep Talking

Summerfest happened. And I served food. And got a lot of it on me.

I lived the dream.

The festival went on for exactly 12 million hours. And we were there through all of it. Well, not me. I have this thing called a job right now, with an ever-approaching final day and an infinite amount of work to get done. But I was there in the evenings, and then all day Saturday. And that still felt like 12 million hours.

It was great to meet so many of you there. Thank you so much for stopping by and saying hello. I'll just assume the rest of you were too ashamed of me for failing the Ironman to show up. I understand. Or you were caught in a tornado. Or the Queen of Colors attacked you!

Ok, now I'm getting worried.

I just called 911. They wouldn't let me file a missing person's report for thousands of people I don't actually know. Now I have to come looking for you myself. Please wear orange for the next little while so it will be easier to spot you. Also, if you have cheese cake waiting, that would be awesome.

Summerfest

Last night I helped some of my closest friends peel 2 billion mangoes. I now firmly believe that mangoes are the most satanic fruit of all the fruits. What was the fruit God told Adam and Eve not to eat? Mangoes. Fat, juicy, sticky, awful, horrible, mangoes. Mangoes are the snakes of the food world. If they could move on their own, they would probably slither. And then scare the hell out of you when you are trying to run down City Creek Road in Salt Lake City. And cause you to jump 10 feet into the air and scream like an 12-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. And abandon the innocent young lady you're running with to fend for herself in the now dark canyon.

Sorry, Hannah. I hope they find you soon. 

Bike Crash

A couple of weeks ago Paul Cyclemon, two friends and I hit the open road for a biking extravaganza o' fun. 2 hours later my left arm looked like it had been through a meat grinder. And not in the good way.

I have fallen on my bike before. A couple of times. But somehow I was able to make those falls look like a rehearsed stunt in one of the Batman movies.

As an aside, I saw the latest Batman movie this week. I went into the theater on Monday night at 7:15 and the movie ended 24 minutes ago. And guys, I really really tried to follow what was going on this time. After sitting through the last one, I was mocked for asking, "So was that movie just a remake of Stephen King's It?"

I have serious issues with going to movies. I avoid them at all costs, but sometimes peer pressure gets the best of me and I find myself sitting in a dark theater with a group of friends, bouncing up and down the entire time, and attempting to have conversations wholly unrelated to the film with everyone around me. It is for this reason that the 6 people I saw this Batman movie with argued about who had to sit next to me. But I am a grown up. And surely I can behave myself in films and follow the plots just like all the other grown ups. So I really tried this time.