The move


You guys are gonna help me move, right? Remember that time I picked you up at the airport? No? Hm. Maybe it was a different social network.

First of all, I helped you move the last time. Do you remember how much difficulty we had getting that concert harp down that tiny staircase? And do you recall what you said to me when it slipped at the bottom and banged into the wall?

“Did you scratch it?” you asked. Not “are you okay, Tony?” or “wow, do you think that gash in your leg needs stitches?”

Then you looked at the scuffed paint on the stairwell wall and mumbled something about not getting your whole security deposit back.

I mean, it was great that you bought pizza and beer for all of us after we helped you, but by the time I got out of the ER and over to your new place, there was only one slice of pizza left, and all of the good beer was gone. So I ate that crusty corner piece and drank a warm PBR for my troubles. Not that I’m bitter.

But, a friend in need, yada yada. So I’ll be landing at JFK on Monday at 8:12am – please be prompt when picking me up. Of course I’ll help you move again this time, but someone else is going to have to get that fucking harp up the stairs.

posted 4/9/09 at 11:03am to Uncategorized · 0 replies · »

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