I hereby declare that Judd and Amanda’s wedding went swimmingly. It was the bee’s knees and all that rigamarole. I think all in attendance agreed that I Revved my goddamned ass off to wed those two in secular matrimony, and in the end we all got drunk on wine and Barrie smashed cake down Scott’s gullet with a fervor rivaled only by the bride and groom themselves. I’ve got pictures, beautiful pictures, of the blessed event, but as my computer hates me at the moment I’ll have to wait until I have access to the mischivious-elf-free internet access that only Intuit can provide.
Last night I attended a party in The City and it went off the rails fairly quickly. Luckily, the rails were not suspended above a deep ravine, so the train ended merely in a smoking heap in a ditch rather than smashed into a jillion pieces a thousand feet beneath the earth’s crust. I hereby declare this metaphor complete.
The Great Apartment Hunt of 2006 continues unabated, though I think I’ll shortly be pulling the trigger on Operation: Backup Plan. Operation: Backup Plan involves signing a 3-month lease on a place in Mountain View that’s close to work, then after the three months is up and I’m on month-to-month I’ll have more time to find one of those honest-to-god Fantasic Apartments I hear people talk about. Oh Cal, you’re so lucky in your rent-controlled paradise. Oh Wwhazz, you’re so grand in your paid-for style of living in a palatial San Diego estate. Oh GMC, it must be nice to live in on a bluff overlooking the ocean, even if your town is populated 90% by beach bums. Oh Jen, it must be so fun to live with a Genuine TV Personality somewhere in Milwaukee. WHAT ABOUT RAVEN?
As the swirling remnants of my life circle the drain and disappear one by one down its murky (murpy?) depths, boredom overtakes excitement at the possibilities. The house is sold, the apartment hunt draws to a close, Judd was successfully married, the divorce is in its final paperwork stages, and my job continues apace. May you live in interesting times, indeed. We’re in the denouement of this book of my life, and things ain’t exactly conclusioning quickly or cleaning. I suppose that’s the way of real life things.
On the other hand, the future is bright. It’s just the “waiting for it” thing that’s the bitch. This is done, that approaches, what to do for the time being. Self-improvement activities are the divorce cliche, so perhaps I’ll buck the trend and eat butter until I’m 400 pounds. That’d liven things up, especially my blood pressure.
This post draws to a close; I think I’ll go eat a burrito for lunch. By the way, shouts to Cal for picking up din-din last night. Thanks man, I appreciate your hospitality. Shouts to Sam as well for the ride from Cal’s down to the Marina and the wonderful guided tour of Pac Heights (“This place is filled with RICH motherfuckers. They have maids that sweep their homes in REAL MAID OUTFITS.”)
— rain, rain, rain go away/let the sun come out and all the children saaaaaaaaaay