Children of the 80’s come one, come all...let me take you back to 1985 momentarily for some deep reflection…
“Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket.”
- Mikey Walsh, The Goonies
Those of us who have the Peter Pan disorder and refuse to grow up, live and breath this quote…the only memorable line of Sean Astin’s impressive career (don’t get me started on Rudy, you know I could bitch for days about f-ing Rudy Ruettiger and I can barely tolerate Sean Astin because of it, Goonies being the exception) though I am sure it’s a close second to something from Encino Man. So what made The Great One (guess who) think of this at 12:48 on a Sunday morning? Well, my lil butterbeans, I’m moving. I can’t afford this apartment anymore. I desperately want to keep it, but it’s not ‘roommate friendly’ (nor am I for that matter!) and I can’t work 2 jobs in order to keep it because when I do, I am never flippin here, GOSH!!! That, and I am reveling in the 7 deadly sins daily, mainly sloth in this case. I can handle 4 hours at Curves 3 nights a week for $12 and hour and that’s pretty much just Funny Money (your favorite band makes another blogpearence!)
I went and looked at apartments all over Anna Runnel Canny today with private renters and I got a couple of good leads, a few really weird stories and the heebie jeebies at least two times, not to mention the realization that I am going to need to come up with a least a G n’a ½ in order to afford the totally unreasonable security deposit that private renters seek, one months rent. So regardless of the notorious reputation and stigma Troy’s bucket does in fact carry with it, I will in now be passing it around for donations to save the Goondocks, which is Laura Lee’s humble abode (wherever that may be). Oh, and if Nikki happens to hit you up for a contribution tell her you’ll have your people call her people, and then I will just call you and take the donation and keep it since you are my people too.
In all seriousness, Troy’s bucket is a metaphor (oh god…here she goes). I feel like I am eminently about to ride up on Troy’s bucket no matter what I do. Move, don’t move, have a roommate, live alone, date someone, stay single, diet vs regular gingerale (which I love so much). It’s an identity crisis of some magnitude! I realized this today while talking to the wise-cheese-woman (mom) about not being able to make a decision on my living situation by March 1st, because I didn’t know how I was supposed to be living. I’m thrown back into the Single’s Daytona 500, during lap 45 and I think up until recently, my car might have even been facing the other direction until some other cars came and slammed the shit out of me and flipped me back on course! I haven’t had a ‘roommate’ in almost 5 years…I was on a different course…my inner compass was pointed in a different direction, so hell, what to do? And 2 weeks to decide…ahhhh…just the way I like it. Procrastinate now. DON’T put it off. ;) So this paragraph is littered with vague comparisons, but the bottom-line is, I’m seriously contemplating a roommate situation with the only person who can stand my presence for more than 48 hours. Out of all the places I’ve been to look at, the only ones I could see myself living in were only roommate type of situations (I don’t do basements after Silence of the Lambs…I don’t want to ”put the lotion in the basket”) And I know, we’re gonna have fun. I’m worried though because I am so weird right now. I find it hard to try and explain to her why and how it’s so hard, as a ‘married’ person to move back in with a roommate. It almost feels illegal it’s so weird. So I’m basically just pissed off that I’ve been thrown back into a life I left behind long ago and this extends to painful little crushes all the way to personal body care, otherwise known as taking the act of sexfoliation to the next level (time, money and pain guys!) You know I have a right mind to write a complaint letter and send it to the Windy City about this quandary, but it’s likely to be met with a “Are you f*cking kidding me? I moved to f*cking Chicago! Alone. With nothing.” And I don’t like letters like that. Heh…cuz it’s true, and I’m a self-righteous sheiza!
Speaking of a life left behind, I was thinking about starting to wear my engagement ring again. Seriously, that sucker is like creep-repellant. The last property I looked at today was a small home in Pasadena with a breathtaking view of the water but so small, I think it might have been a shed and I’m not into the whole Jack-in-the-box thing. Boinggggg!!! :) The landlord or whoever this schmuck was that was showing the home was all over me like white on rice (hence the case of the heebie-jeebies). At one point I was looking out the back window at the water and he stood next to me, inside my personal bubble, which is punishable by death, and said in this whispery voice: “Picture yourself standing out on that deck on a warm summer morning, looking at that view…wearing a light robe, having a hot cappuccino. Can you picture it? I can…or at least I’d like to.” Oooooookay George McFly! Neeee nawww neee naaawwww!!! someone call the peeping Tom pervert police! Apparently this dude is only 36 and lives in the great big mansion next door to this house, all by himself and it "needs a woman’s touch” as he put it. Exsqueeze me? Or actually, on second thought….don’t come any closer! He was a good looking guy too, but man! What is your problem? Yes, please…can I enter into a legal agreement with you to live on your property as your nasty lil concubine? It felt like CL all over again- haha. Who picks up women in the Pennysaver? No thanks. So why would I wear my ring again? That kind of shit never happened to when I wore it. Yeah, I was hit on here and there, and definitely engaged in some flirtatious banter in my many years with the fuzzy ducky, but I am fairly convinced that that ring operates as creepy man-kryptonite or something…if not just the mere suggestions that it would take 3 butterfly stitches to mend the cut that sucker is gonna drag in his cheek when I bitch slap him. What do you think? Reintroduce the Zsa-Zsa? or might that be a little weird for everyone ;) That’s ok future roommate, you don’t owe me for going to that property without you. I'll just give him your number and tell him you have a thin robe, love flavored coffee and look better through binoculars anyway ;)
Ok ramblings are done; nothing much to write about anyhow. If I had a life, I wouldn’t be writing on this blog anyway…it would gather multiple layers of internet dust like all the other little projects I start before my severe ADD acts up and I forget all about em. Tomorrow is Heather Charpiat’s baby shower. I haven’t seen her since she told me she was pregnant (because I am the shittiest friend that ever lived) and so I am so excited to see her lil belly! She’s due on St Patrick’s Day so she should be pretty big! But I’m trying to think of an acceptable way to tell a cute little pregnant girl that she’s grown so big without making her cry. Any moms have any suggestions or should I just keep my damn mouth shut and tell her she’s hardly showing? I mean it’s a BABY for crying out loud! What’s my excuse? This ain’t a baby! haha Maybe I’ll just tell her that I want my basketball back. ;) I can’t believe some of you girls have taken the plunge and decided to procreate. Wild!
Outburst: GO TERPS!!!! That’s what I’m talkin’ bout babeeeee! Duck Fuke!
Ok nightie-night Jeanna. You are the only one reading this and I know it. haha ;) Call you tomorrow so I can wish Mahzie a happy b-day and pop by her party after the shower. You should write more in the comments section baby, you certainly have a lot of weird experiences with me enough to jump right into the pool with all those yahoos making fun of me. It’s fun! Tryyyy it…you'll liiiiiike it! Be sure to check out yesterday’s wagers on my nightly antics (under comments).
Visit http://www.thegoonies.com/
Sincerely Yours,
Chester Copperpot
Songs of the Day:
Goonies R’ Good Enough – Cyndi Lauper
Black Magic Woman – Carlos Santana
It’s All About the Benjamins – Sean ‘Puff Daddy” Combs
Let It Be – The Beatles
“Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket.”
- Mikey Walsh, The Goonies
Those of us who have the Peter Pan disorder and refuse to grow up, live and breath this quote…the only memorable line of Sean Astin’s impressive career (don’t get me started on Rudy, you know I could bitch for days about f-ing Rudy Ruettiger and I can barely tolerate Sean Astin because of it, Goonies being the exception) though I am sure it’s a close second to something from Encino Man. So what made The Great One (guess who) think of this at 12:48 on a Sunday morning? Well, my lil butterbeans, I’m moving. I can’t afford this apartment anymore. I desperately want to keep it, but it’s not ‘roommate friendly’ (nor am I for that matter!) and I can’t work 2 jobs in order to keep it because when I do, I am never flippin here, GOSH!!! That, and I am reveling in the 7 deadly sins daily, mainly sloth in this case. I can handle 4 hours at Curves 3 nights a week for $12 and hour and that’s pretty much just Funny Money (your favorite band makes another blogpearence!)
I went and looked at apartments all over Anna Runnel Canny today with private renters and I got a couple of good leads, a few really weird stories and the heebie jeebies at least two times, not to mention the realization that I am going to need to come up with a least a G n’a ½ in order to afford the totally unreasonable security deposit that private renters seek, one months rent. So regardless of the notorious reputation and stigma Troy’s bucket does in fact carry with it, I will in now be passing it around for donations to save the Goondocks, which is Laura Lee’s humble abode (wherever that may be). Oh, and if Nikki happens to hit you up for a contribution tell her you’ll have your people call her people, and then I will just call you and take the donation and keep it since you are my people too.
In all seriousness, Troy’s bucket is a metaphor (oh god…here she goes). I feel like I am eminently about to ride up on Troy’s bucket no matter what I do. Move, don’t move, have a roommate, live alone, date someone, stay single, diet vs regular gingerale (which I love so much). It’s an identity crisis of some magnitude! I realized this today while talking to the wise-cheese-woman (mom) about not being able to make a decision on my living situation by March 1st, because I didn’t know how I was supposed to be living. I’m thrown back into the Single’s Daytona 500, during lap 45 and I think up until recently, my car might have even been facing the other direction until some other cars came and slammed the shit out of me and flipped me back on course! I haven’t had a ‘roommate’ in almost 5 years…I was on a different course…my inner compass was pointed in a different direction, so hell, what to do? And 2 weeks to decide…ahhhh…just the way I like it. Procrastinate now. DON’T put it off. ;) So this paragraph is littered with vague comparisons, but the bottom-line is, I’m seriously contemplating a roommate situation with the only person who can stand my presence for more than 48 hours. Out of all the places I’ve been to look at, the only ones I could see myself living in were only roommate type of situations (I don’t do basements after Silence of the Lambs…I don’t want to ”put the lotion in the basket”) And I know, we’re gonna have fun. I’m worried though because I am so weird right now. I find it hard to try and explain to her why and how it’s so hard, as a ‘married’ person to move back in with a roommate. It almost feels illegal it’s so weird. So I’m basically just pissed off that I’ve been thrown back into a life I left behind long ago and this extends to painful little crushes all the way to personal body care, otherwise known as taking the act of sexfoliation to the next level (time, money and pain guys!) You know I have a right mind to write a complaint letter and send it to the Windy City about this quandary, but it’s likely to be met with a “Are you f*cking kidding me? I moved to f*cking Chicago! Alone. With nothing.” And I don’t like letters like that. Heh…cuz it’s true, and I’m a self-righteous sheiza!
Speaking of a life left behind, I was thinking about starting to wear my engagement ring again. Seriously, that sucker is like creep-repellant. The last property I looked at today was a small home in Pasadena with a breathtaking view of the water but so small, I think it might have been a shed and I’m not into the whole Jack-in-the-box thing. Boinggggg!!! :) The landlord or whoever this schmuck was that was showing the home was all over me like white on rice (hence the case of the heebie-jeebies). At one point I was looking out the back window at the water and he stood next to me, inside my personal bubble, which is punishable by death, and said in this whispery voice: “Picture yourself standing out on that deck on a warm summer morning, looking at that view…wearing a light robe, having a hot cappuccino. Can you picture it? I can…or at least I’d like to.” Oooooookay George McFly! Neeee nawww neee naaawwww!!! someone call the peeping Tom pervert police! Apparently this dude is only 36 and lives in the great big mansion next door to this house, all by himself and it "needs a woman’s touch” as he put it. Exsqueeze me? Or actually, on second thought….don’t come any closer! He was a good looking guy too, but man! What is your problem? Yes, please…can I enter into a legal agreement with you to live on your property as your nasty lil concubine? It felt like CL all over again- haha. Who picks up women in the Pennysaver? No thanks. So why would I wear my ring again? That kind of shit never happened to when I wore it. Yeah, I was hit on here and there, and definitely engaged in some flirtatious banter in my many years with the fuzzy ducky, but I am fairly convinced that that ring operates as creepy man-kryptonite or something…if not just the mere suggestions that it would take 3 butterfly stitches to mend the cut that sucker is gonna drag in his cheek when I bitch slap him. What do you think? Reintroduce the Zsa-Zsa? or might that be a little weird for everyone ;) That’s ok future roommate, you don’t owe me for going to that property without you. I'll just give him your number and tell him you have a thin robe, love flavored coffee and look better through binoculars anyway ;)
Ok ramblings are done; nothing much to write about anyhow. If I had a life, I wouldn’t be writing on this blog anyway…it would gather multiple layers of internet dust like all the other little projects I start before my severe ADD acts up and I forget all about em. Tomorrow is Heather Charpiat’s baby shower. I haven’t seen her since she told me she was pregnant (because I am the shittiest friend that ever lived) and so I am so excited to see her lil belly! She’s due on St Patrick’s Day so she should be pretty big! But I’m trying to think of an acceptable way to tell a cute little pregnant girl that she’s grown so big without making her cry. Any moms have any suggestions or should I just keep my damn mouth shut and tell her she’s hardly showing? I mean it’s a BABY for crying out loud! What’s my excuse? This ain’t a baby! haha Maybe I’ll just tell her that I want my basketball back. ;) I can’t believe some of you girls have taken the plunge and decided to procreate. Wild!
Outburst: GO TERPS!!!! That’s what I’m talkin’ bout babeeeee! Duck Fuke!
Ok nightie-night Jeanna. You are the only one reading this and I know it. haha ;) Call you tomorrow so I can wish Mahzie a happy b-day and pop by her party after the shower. You should write more in the comments section baby, you certainly have a lot of weird experiences with me enough to jump right into the pool with all those yahoos making fun of me. It’s fun! Tryyyy it…you'll liiiiiike it! Be sure to check out yesterday’s wagers on my nightly antics (under comments).
Visit http://www.thegoonies.com/
Sincerely Yours,
Chester Copperpot
Songs of the Day:
Goonies R’ Good Enough – Cyndi Lauper
Black Magic Woman – Carlos Santana
It’s All About the Benjamins – Sean ‘Puff Daddy” Combs
Let It Be – The Beatles
3 Comments:
CHUUUUUUUUNK!Ahhhhahahahaha. Bay-bee Ruth? mmmmmm. I LUUUUVE YOU CHUNK. It puts the lotion on it's body or it doesn't get to go jogging.hahaha. Two of my al time favorite quotes.
)))) I Love You !!!!((((( from thelauralee's numero uno fan ...Jeanna
48 hours is my Laura Lee limit then I have to do a shot of tequilla to restart the cycle.
And can some please tell me why I am considering a roommate who is a self-proclaimed nut job?! I guess I'm a glutton punishment, but only if Laura is doing the spanking. ;)
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