The street is cold, its trees are gone.
The story's told the dark has won.
Before I begin, let us all kneel down and behold,
Eric Clapton's "Blackie". Oh she's beautiful.
1. Helping a Buddy's Buddy move
Friday night Talking with a coworker before the weekend.
Boof: So what are you doing this weekend
Y: I got some plans tomorrow. What are you up to?
Boof: Nawthin man.
Y: Oh, well in that case you should come over tomorrow with us and help my friend move.
Boof: uh, ah....jah...So why is your friend moving?
Y: (yadda, yadda, yadda)
I did want to come up with an excuse but I totally backed myself in to a small talk corner. It was like screwing up at tic-tac-toe and now I was fucked two ways. I tried to give the subtle hint that I DID NOT want to spend my Saturday moving but he made it sound like it was going to go down quick and easy.
Y: We're going to have like 8 people and 4 trucks so it may take about an hour or two. It's going to be cake, dude. Alright so just stop on over at 11 and if you can't show up then give me a call.
So why didn't I just blow it off? Because I already played that card and they've already helped me move once before so I should at least return the favor and everyone was pissed at me for blowing off the first move. I also didn't have shit going on this weekend and I figure I would do my good turn for that day.
After all, it was only going to take a couple hours right?
So I arrive at Y's place and we immediately go to pick up the huge moving truck. I dropped my car at Y's place and sat shotgun in the company moving truck as he head to YD's place (the person who is moving)
We get there and.... he's not ready. The short version of the story is that his meth'd out gf is kicking him out for him bitching at her about her meth. She locked him out of the place until the move-out day and he was simply not ready. We had 8 guys standing on the driveway with our hands in our pockets as he scrambles in the house pointing at all the stuff that's his.
I was very annoyed but seeing as we had 8 people, it should still go pretty fast.
We eventually get everything loaded up after 2 hours.
Boof as we pull out of the drive way: So where is YD moving to?
S: North St. Paul
Boof: So why are we going this way.
S: We gotta go to Y's place because he's got some of YD's stuff at his place.
Boof frowns: hmmm
We do our thing at Y's place and after 45 minutes we finally hop back on and start up our convoy.
Boof: So we're going to YD's now right?
S: Nah, we're going to D's now.
Boof: Well who the fuck is D? Why are we going to his damn place?
S: D's got more of YD's stuff so we're going to Cottage Grove.
Boof: COTTAGE GROVE?! WHY DOES D HAVE YD'S STUFF? WHY DIDN'T YD DO THIS CRAP YESTERDAY?!
S: I dunno.
At this point I feel like this guy. The move that was supposed to only take a couple hours has now eclipsed that mark and we still have 3 car loads full of crap.
So now we're traveling around the metro area picking up YD's stuff like it's some kind of stupid ass parade. What happened to 'moves' where you haul one set of shit to one other location? What is with all these stupid stops?
We FINALLY get to YD's place and instead of following us to all those different houses, he simply just went to his new apartment which I thought he was going to unload one of those trucks.
He didn't which gives me the question that is shining in my head as if it's on a marquis with flashing lights, "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING FOR THE LAST 80 MINUTES?" We unload and I just want to simply 'get-the-shit-in-the-house' and I'm in my die hard moving mode where I never waste a trip, I make sure I max out in what I can handle, and I just want to get out of there.
No one else is in this mode because they like to stop to chat and see what's in some of these boxes.
I'm irate at this point now. It's getting on to 4:30 and I got a hockey game that I want to go to at 6pm. I take more stuff when YD says,
YD: Dude, that stays in the truck.
Boof: Why? Where's it going to go if you're not taking it.
YD: We gotta load some stuff back in the truck because the rest is going to Matt's place.
I asked to go home at that point. I've moved about 8 times before and I know enough to be prepared when people show up. It should be as simple as move in, move out. This was fucking ridiculous.
Which goes to show, never ask what people are up to for the weekend.
The front page of the Star Tribune and Pioneer Press should just have a wheel with one five stories.
-The horrible housing market
-The horrible stock market
-The upcoming tax increases
-illegal immigration running rampant
-or whatever else that causes massive depression.
Let's just take all those as given's and start reporting the god damn news already. I mean if the economy is actually progressing then that would be news. If the tax increases somehow go away, that would be news. This last week has just been the same recycled depressing shit and we need to find something else to report.
If there's nothing else then enter dig deeper (look at other countries and see if there is anything interesting going on over there or report something about their different way of life so we can point and laugh at how different they are) or at least make things up like the Onion. That way at least we can get some creativity and, hopefully, some decent writing with perhaps a laugh or two.
Like all goofy articles could start off with a warning like (Warning: we just made this shit up) and talk about how George Bush is making the worlds biggest root beer float because that's what Presidents do in the 8th year of lame duck Presidential terms.
Then at least we could open the paper and not want to kill our collective selves.
Alright I can't end on that note, here's Stevie Ray Vaughn's guitar