Today’s move went well. John showed up and gallantly put my stuff in his car while I scrambled around making sure I had everything. I burned him a CD full of Andrew W.K. for the ride and we took off, stopping for burgers along the way. We got to the apartment, and as I started unloading, I ran into a Hampshire kid. No joke, he was sitting on the steps of my new building, no doubt busy looking vaguely familiar. After the initial “Don’t I…?” “Yeah… You look…” “Where do you…” exchange, he introduced me to the friends he was visiting, who live in the apartment downstairs and are two more Hampshire kids. Sitcoms aren’t this coincidental.
Once everything was in the apartment, John and I noticed a Jeep that had become boxed in by other parked cars. Its driver elegantly inched out of the predicament with a sixteen-point turn. Meanwhile, the passenger left an angry note on the car behind them. Once they’d left, we gleefully ran downstairs to see what she’d written.
Oh, and then John drove me to Stop & Shop because it was raining. I figured I’d be a responsible adult and-
Nah, I’m just kidding, I actually got milk, cheese, bread and V8 juice instead. John took off shortly after that, perhaps worried that I was now turning into The Man.
As I unpacked, I discovered the box of booze I’d brought back with me from school and left untouched during my two weeks or so at home. It accumulated towards the end of the semester as people left early, giving away whatever spare alcohol they didn’t want to bring back to their families. I had tried to invite people over to drink the stuff I was left with, but was thwarted when instead they brought their own booze (and refused to take it with them when they left). So, I pawned some off on a friend, left some for my modmates (who later pawned that off on the same friend) and packed the rest away.
Completely forgetting about that, I wandered into a small liquor store down the street on Monday night with the sole intention of buying the cheapest bottle of wine they had. I figured it was the thing to do. After all, a small room, no money and half a liberal arts degree qualify me soundly as a “starvingartist.” You can’t spell “starvingartist” without “cheapshit red wine,” I thought, and decided to embrace the stereotype. Never mind that I wasn’t in the mood for a drink. I would just save this for when I couldn’t stand being sober (or tasteful) any longer.
And now, I’m still not particularly in the mood. As I stare at my five bottles, it occurs to me that I am in possession of fatal amounts of alcohol. If I drank my entire collection, I would flat-out die. It also occurs to me that this isn’t really a huge deal since you can also be in possession of fatal amounts of bleach pretty damn easily. I’d say, instead, that this makes for a good rule of thumb: If you don’t have enough booze to kill at least one man (or woman, but she has to be Russian), you don’t have enough booze to host a drinking party.
Since I don’t plan on offing myself or throwing a rager, though, that bottle of Pinot Noir is going to be around for a while. According to its label, it is “made exclusively for restaurants and hotels throughout the world where wines of this quality are expected.” Which is honest, since you know damn well that you won’t find any six-dollar bottles of wine at the Ritz. I’d mix it with the V8 juice, but I’m not sure which would be helping the other go down.
And now I’ve written four paragraphs about my apathy towards my minibar. Where do you go from there? “Oh also I don’t really care much about the t-shirts I folded earlier?” I think I’ll call it a night.
Today’s song: It pretty much has to be an Andrew W.K. song, given that I heard nearly an hour and a half of him in the car today. They’re all ridiculously kick-the-world’s-ass-because-I-am-awesome in tone, but I think I’ll choose “This Is My World” for now because it seems fitting. Well, aside from the brief verse about watching someone through their bedroom window, anyway. Everyone across the street has their shades drawn.
Andrew W.K. – This Is My World
Today’s thing: With John’s help, I fixed up the bedframe - er, futonframe - in here. Later, I put together a keyboard stand. It’s not really creating but it makes for a sweet setup.
I guess I created a nice living environment. Shut up, it counts. I’m tired and I want to go to futon.