The Daily Dump

A place where everyone (me) is welcomed to express their opinions openly and honestly. I encourage free thinking, free wheeling, off-the-cuff banter and monetary donations.

Friday, June 2

Moving: Episode Three


Waking up Sunday morning and seeing the state of the apartment for the first time in the light of day was not unlike the first time you wake up in a whore house thinking, “I know I thought this was a good idea at one point, but could I have been wrong?” Only instead of scantily clad hookers draped over the furniture, it’s boxes and bags and clothes, and instead of an ache when you pee it’s an ache when you take any small step or try to stand up straight.

The good news was that we had plans to flee the city once again to the relaxing surroundings of suburban backyards barbecues. The only problem was that there was still something of a “mess” in my old apartment. (For our purposes the word “mess” will mean “several large pieces of furniture and many items dubbed ‘last minute items’ as though the ‘last minute’ was literally the final 60 seconds I would be allowed to step foot into the apartment without officially trespassing.” It’s not the Oxford English definition verbatim, but a close enough paraphrase.)

Here is when I officially went into THROW OUT mode. It was like one of those commercials where a scum boyfriend has obviously done something horrible to his girlfriend and he is standing on the sidewalk below the window of the apartment they used to share while she throws everything he owns down upon him, and then he eats a Mentos, has an idea, and makes $5,000 by having a yard sale right there on the street, which the girlfriend thinks is so clever that she forgives him. Actually, it was nothing like that: I just threw everything else away, regardless of its inherent value of usefulness, the final item being my couch, which, if it had feelings, would have had lower self-esteem than one of those children in the Feed Africa commercials, after no less than five Craigslist douchbags said they would buy it and then promptly disappeared off the face of the earth. (I’m talking to you, Anna Marie from Staten Island!) Throwing it away was the only form of Hara-kiri appropriate for such a disgraced demise.

(And don’t say “You should have donated it,” because God knows I tried. But every place I called said, “We can pick it up in two to three weeks.” Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something? I don’t want to throw off your whole schedule by trying to GIVE YOU SOMETHING. Two to three weeks? I hope the Salvation Army knows that 155,012 people die EVERY DAY. I three weeks that’s 3,255,252 people DEAD. I’m sure one of them could have been saved by my couch, or at least been a little bit more comfortable at the end.)

After that we drove out to my friend James’ parents house to celebrate his birthday with great food and awesome Swedish lawn games, then onto my parents’ house for more great food and sadly no lawn games, unless you count “falling asleep on the couch watching In Good Company” a lawn game, which you probably don’t. Unless you are homeless and you live in a yard, in which case everything becomes a lawn game. Or, more honestly, a lawn reality. Or, more practically, a lawn why am I still making this joke?

The real fun came Monday when The Girlfriend, some friends and I went shopping at the outlets (LONG ISLAND ALERT) before driving back to the city. Perhaps the only notable occurrence at the outlets, besides the awesome bathing suit I bought, was the sweatshirt I really fell in love with, only when I tried it on and showed everyone, they agreed, as if rehearsed, “You look like a girl,” the REALLY funny part being that since it was the only one lost amongst a rack of men’s clothes, it very well could have been misplaced from the women’s side of the store. (Add this to the list of things that may result in me having to call my dad “Mr. Murphy” at family get togethers from now on.)

But what better way to cap a painful weekend of physical labor and unintentional cross-dressing than this:

SCENE: On our drive back to the city, we stop off at a deli with a GRAND OPENING sign hanging in the window. We all place our orders (there are four of us) and patiently wait. And wait. And wait. A HALF AN HOUR LATER, our sandwiches are handed to us, as though just delivered by some off-site sandwich assembly facility. We are in a rush to leave, so as each individual pays, they go outside to the car. We pick it up with me, The Girlfriend and my friend John arriving at the car, a company SUV with the logo of the radio station my friend works for painted in large letters on either side. We are immediately approached by a Crazy Woman.

Crazy Woman: (walking over quickly, but clumsily) “Do you work for a radio station?”

Me: “No, my friend does.”

CW: (ignoring me) “Because I have a story you would be interested in.”

Me: “He doesn’t really have any say about what –“

CW: (still ignoring me) “I’ve been looking for a media outlet, I have a story to tell. Because I’ve been beaten, and I’ve been raped, and I’ve been tortured . . .”

Me: (unprepared for the turn in the conversation) “Wow, that’s awful.”

CW: “. . . and I’ve been kidnapped,and I’ve been beaten, and I’ve been the victim or organized crime, that means people who don’t like me . . .”

My friend, the Driver, exits the deli and walks towards the car.

Driver: (casually) “Hey, what’s going on here?”

John: “You don’t want to know.”

CW: (to driver) “Do you work at the radio station?”

Driver: (tentatively) “Yes.”

CW: “Great, because I was just telling everyone that I’ve been beaten, and I’ve been raped and . . .”

Driver: “Ooook, time to go.”

We start to get into the car.

CW: “. . . and I had an arm amputation and a mouth amputation, do you want to see my mouth amputation?”

CW opens her mouth and reveals that she is missing several teeth.

Driver: “Oh God, and I just bought a sandwich!”

CW: “Here’s my number. Call me and we can talk more!”

We shut our doors and drive off. Moments later, after some stunned silence, The Girlfriend proclaims: “Wait a second – she wasn’t missing an arm.” And, indeed, Crazy Woman was not missing an arm.

THE END.

(NOTE: The above picture is from the new apartment, specifically the cabinet we installed in the bathroom, which is the only part of the apartment that is presentable at this time.)

29 Comments:

So, are you gonna call crazy woman? Because THAT would be funny.
And may I say that I am glad that you were at least able to put up the "25 cent" bath sign before organizing anything else? Bravo!

By Blogger Cherry Ride, at 3:12 PM  

Dan, why do you mock me by installing the only cabinet that matches with my

Bathroom Sink

By Blogger HomeImprovementNinja, at 3:37 PM  

Was she missing any fingers? If losing teeth is a mouth amputation, maybe losing fingers is an arm amputation. Or I should just never overthink crazy.

PS - Congrats on completing the move.

By Blogger HelloBettyLou, at 3:47 PM  

i've spent a lot of time in whorehouses, and not one (let me repeat: NOT ONE) ever let people sleep there overnight. whorehouses are places of business. when people come to YOUR place of business, do you let THEM sleep there overnight? (i'm assuming you don't work at a bus station.)

if you do in fact WAKE UP at a whorehouse, i'd suggest you get used to a life of decreased kidney functioning.

/cue NBC's 'MORE YOU KNOW' music

(please disregard this public service announcement if in fact you woke up at MY SISTER'S HOUSE, which is not 'technically' a place of business since payment is usually optional)

By Blogger ducklet, at 3:50 PM  

i bet she had smoker stink...did she have shoes on? hair brushed? wonder who else she accousted that day...

By Blogger Shopaholic KitKatWoman, at 3:56 PM  

I totally agree with Will Z. Call the CW. That might make for a post even funnier than the moving episodes, which have made me laugh out loud at my desk everyday... Love it!

By Blogger SoberCityGirl, at 4:08 PM  

It's now enough that I had to look at her mouth amputation, not you want me to call her? And what, maybe take her out for a drink and see where things go? I mean, it would be REALLY hilarious if we got hammered and hooked up! Blog posts for a week!

By Blogger the belligerent intellectual, at 4:20 PM  

My brother had the same problem with the Salvation Army when he lived in NYC. His roommate moved out and left him with a brand new mattress, but my brother had just bought a mattress, so my brother tried desperately to give it away and no one would take it. I think the Salvation Army told him he'd have to pay to have it delivered to them. Ungrateful.

By Blogger Hope, at 4:25 PM  

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

By Blogger Andrew, at 4:26 PM  

Crazy people are fun! You should call her & interview her for your blog.

By Blogger FlippingChipmunk, at 4:27 PM  

You didn't tell me the sweatshirt made you look like a girl!

You said something like "for the cool beach evenings".

Am I going to have to walk ahead of you - way ahead of you - when we stay at Davis, where I might add, EVERYBODY KNOWS OUR NAMES!

By Blogger belligerent mother, at 4:43 PM  

BI:

Why do you think she approached you, not TG? Did you make eye contact with her or something? You must be sending out some kind of vibe. I have that vibe - I get crazies and drunks all the time.

By Blogger Leezer, at 4:46 PM  

what the...? how did you fall asleep during In Good Company?! That's such quality. Actually, Topher Grace sorta resembles you...or vice versa. But, you've got way more funnier stories.

By Blogger VespaRosso, at 4:47 PM  

I agree, you need to have some sort of closure with CW. But there is no way you can go in unprepared. You must come off crazier than her. Oh, and don't use your personal line. All crazy people have caller ID.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 4:56 PM  

The other thing is, I can't fathom that this woman has a residence, let alone a working telephone. I just can't picture her sitting down at a desk, writing a check to Verizon when she obviously spends her days trying to get her fake amputation story on the radio.

By Blogger the belligerent intellectual, at 5:01 PM  

Wait . . . the BI has already "installed" something? Now that's CRAZY!

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 5:36 PM  

I worked at a radio station and people would call up and say, "I want to promote our down with Bush rally this weekend in Oakland; when can I come by and do an interview?" I'd tell them that they need to talk to promotions and tell us at least two weeks in advance about their event. "Don't you CARE about what's going on in IRAQ?!!"

By Blogger Maulleigh, at 9:39 PM  

will z--please, the very, very first thing i installed when moving in, and i mean the very SECOND after the movers departed? my computer. so that i could.......blog about it.

jesus christ. can someone give me a life for my birthday? p-please?

p.s. you coming to my bday party? should be extremely painful, boring, and saturated with the usual snoozeville antics...christ, I might not even come.

By Anonymous angelina, at 11:31 PM  

Y'know... she may have started out with 3 arms. I'm just sayin'...

By Blogger K, at 1:26 AM  

I love that the picture you show us is the one with your bathroom sign. Small victories for BI.

By Blogger ❉ pixie ❉, at 10:48 AM  

I love that the sign made it into the bathroom. Congrats!

By Blogger Jenni, at 12:17 PM  

BI:
O.K. One down, two to go. Where's the Dewars sign going?

By Blogger Leezer, at 12:30 PM  

Oh, I'm so glad to see your old bathroom sign. It looks right at home!

And I have to say that lately I've been complaining that our house is too small. But after reading about your madcap adventures, i must say that I'm happy to stay put for a while!

By Blogger Carolyn, at 8:03 PM  

So you're finally moved in - well done. Of course, you won't actually unpack the boxes for another year, but the bathroom sign looks good!

By Blogger Just, at 8:36 AM  

Is it possible that crazy lady really believes she only has one arm? Like throughout the day she only utilizes the one arm she believes she has. (ie, She can only swim in a circle, fails at the bench press, unintelligible doing Village People's "YMCA", unable to do a pushup...) I pray that you don't call her while she's driving with her one good arm...

By Blogger Whatever, at 3:22 PM  

Hey Dan - I can't remember how I stumbled across your blog, but it has definitely kept me laughing whilst I'm stuck at my desk writing my MA dissertation.

Moving is a very special circle of hell and I completely sympathize with you. I can't believe you actually found the energy or will to write about the whole ordeal. Good luck with the rest of settling in... ^_^

By Blogger Nathalie, at 7:44 PM  

BI:

Here it is 7:35 a.m. Pacific time on Monday, June 5th 2006. Where is the new post? What are you doing? Do you have a job? Are you working? Where are your priorities? WE WANT A NEW DUMP!

By Blogger Leezer, at 10:40 AM  

VoF - Maybe BI is really dumping us for TG . . .

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 10:46 AM  

Oh God, oh God, that story ... you're killing me! I can't stop laughing and you're going to get me fired! My favorite part: "Oh God, and I just bought a sandwich!" Bwahahaha!

By Blogger Fraulein N, at 9:05 AM  

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