Tuesday, July 29, 2008

ThePeach Moves into FauxHawk's Apartment; Immediately Destroys Everything

Well, I moved all my crap out of my apartment and to CapitalCity last weekend and bade one last farewell to my hovel, my barn, my well-loved hole (that was totally on purpose. I can’t help myself. Seriously…it’s a problem). The move itself went relatively smoothly, especially considering that FauxHawk and I stayed out drinking until 3am the night before. This was not part of my “let’s not fail life” plan, but as usual I needed little coercion:

ThePeach: Ok. Our friends want us to come out. We have to be up at 9am tomorrow, so there is no way I am staying out past 12.
FauxHawk: Ok.

*at the bar. time = 11:45.*

ThePeach: Ok. I have to be up at 9 to move tomorrow. No more gin.
FauxHawk: Ok.
TheCrazy: I ordered you another gin while you were in the shitter.
ThePeach: Ok.

*time = 12:30am.*

ThePeach: Hokay. No more drinking. Gots to move tomorrow morning.
FauxHawk: Ok.
TheCastrato: Wait, I have to tell you a joke first.
ThePeach: Is it long?
TheCastrato: Yes.
ThePeach: Ok.

*time = 1:00am*

TheCastrato: And then he says “MY WIFE! SHE EEZ FROM OUTER SPACE!”
ThePeach: YES!
Waitress: Another gin?
ThePeach: YES!
FauxHawk: Don’t you have to move tomorrow?
ThePeach: What?

*time = 1:45am*

ThePeach: *humps TheCrazy from behind* SNEAK ATTACK!!!
TheCrazy: YES!!!

*time = 2:00am*

Waitress: LAST CALL.
ThePeach: Ohhhs nooos. I haves to moves in seben hours! FauxHawks, we gos home!
FauxHawk: Ok.
TheCastrato: See, here’s my thought. Moving sucks. It’s gonna suck whether you’re sober, hung over, whatever. Might as well move hung over.
ThePeach:…you are sos brilliant.
TheCastrato: It is a gift. *drops beer on floor* Ohhh noooo.
ThePeach: *wipes tear from eyes* Teach me alls you know.
Waitress: Here’s your gin.

*time = 2:30am*

ThePeach/TheCrazy: THIS IS GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR TOM! YOU’VE REALLY MADE THE GRAAAADE! AND THE PAPERS WANT TO KNOW WHOSE SHIRTS YOU WEEEAR! AND IT’S TIME TO LEAVE THE CAPSULE IF YOU DAAAAARE!

*time = 3:00am*

FauxHawk: Peach, the bar is closing.
ThePeach: NO!
FauxHawk: We have to go home now.
ThePeach: NO!
FauxHawk: Here, drink this water.
ThePeach: *throws glass at wall* NO!

*time = 9:00am*

alarm clock: BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
ThePeach: huh shmeh wha…ground control?
alarm clock: BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
ThePeach: *dry heaves* oh my god.
alarm clock: BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
FauxHawk: Happy moving day.
ThePeach: Call an ambulance.

So, ya. I was shocked that the move went well. Because I can’t let go, I am spending the month of August in UniversityTown even though I have no job, apartment, or gin money. FauxHawk was kind enough to take me and the cat in. FauxHawk has a very clean and orderly apartment. It took me about 10 minutes to begin the path of destruction.

The first thing we did was unload the food I had brought with me. This included a giant tub of peanut butter. FauxHawk placed the tub in the shelves above the stove. The shelves then chose that exact moment to detach from the wall and crash onto the stove. I am not even kidding. I’m currently working on a poem called “the peanut butter is a metaphor”…I’ll let you know how it turns out. FauxHawk silently placed my peanut butter on the counter.

Since this disaster prevented us from being able to use the stove, we opted to order a pizza for dinner. I enjoy drinking milk when I eat pizza. I am five years old. I poured myself a gigantic glass of milk and placed it beside my plate on the coffee table. The cat smelled cheese and sprinted towards the pizza on my plate, trying to suck up the melty deliciousness with his greedy little mouth. I shooed the fucker away and the cat awkwardly bolted off the table, sashaying the giant glass of milk with his ass as he left. The milk then soaked everything on the table and ran all over the carpet. FauxHawk silently handed me the paper towels. I got to dabbin’. The cat licked my pizza while I dabbed.

The next day I tried to show what a wonderful housemate I could be by buying FauxHawk and I some delicious kettleman’s bagels. We were both excited about the doughy goodness. I decided to toast us some bagels for a snack. I got out FauxHawk’s gigantic serrated knife and started sawing the bagels in half.

ThePeach: Yum, these bagels look really good, FauxHawk! I can’t wait to…uhoh .
FauxHawk: Uhoh?
ThePeach: Um. I might be bleeding.
FauxHawk: What?
ThePeach: Ya. From the thumb. Oh, wow. That’s a lot of blood. Maybe if I dab at it with this paper towel…nope, still bleeding profusely.

Yep, that’s right. I almost cut my MOTHERFUCKING THUMB OFF trying to make FauxHawk a “please still let me live here” snack! MOTHERFUCK! I bled into the sink and cried. FauxHawk silently poured peroxide into my wound and wrapped a bandaid on me. He finished cutting the bagels and put them in the toaster. I ate mine with one hand. It was delicious.

So, to conclude, in less than 24 hours after I moved in: the kitchen cabinets fell down, my cat knocked milk all over the carpet, and I tried to saw my thumb off. I decided to abandon my plan to make FauxHawk a romantic dinner lest I burn down the building and require skin grafts to the face.

He’s a brave man.

ThePeach

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Haha, what an appropriate time to put up a drunken pic of Lindsey Lohan. Well done.

Anonymous said...

Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!