Where things start to go wrong

I got an email this evening telling me they're out of stock of my couch. Which is so lame, because it specifically tells you when you're purchasing it whether or not it's in stock (and told me it was out of other colors). So, I'm not sure what to do. Just keep trying? Because I'm just not going to spend a billion dollars on some couch from Storehouse or whatever. I'm going to Ikea tomorrow morning, so maybe I'll just ask them.

On a good note, it turns out that disassembling my furniture was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I forgot that I wouldn't have to deal with all the dowels and thingamajigs you have to stick in every single tiny piece. Just loosen the screws and you're good to go. I took explicit notes while I was doing it, so putting it back together shouldn't be too bad.

New roommate and I drove to Tenleytown this evening to deal with the mattress situation. I parked near the metro, trying to dampen flashbacks of the billions of hours I wasted waiting for shuttles there. We walked into the store and told him I was there to pick up my purchase. After ten minutes on the phone with his manager trying to figure out where my order was, the guy turns to me and says, "Are you sure you didn't buy it at Mattress Discounters?" Um. !! Apparently we'd walked into Mattress Warehouse, a mere 50ft from Mattress Discounters. Heh. Anyway, after we left with our heads hanging in shame, we found the right store and managed to pick up my mattress and buy one for her that was in stock, so the boys there strapped them to the hood of our SUV and we drove home like the suburban yuppies I'm sure we looked like. Speaking of which, this is some hard core midnight black Jeep they gave me, it looks like it came off the "We're 'marketing' to 'families' who want 'safety' but it comes standard with hidden compartments for your dime bags" line. I parked it on Clifton and as I walked away at 10pm, I think my exact words were, "That thing is gonna get jacked."

Heh.

I just called the mattress place to make sure it had been delivered to the store before I haul my ass up there. I took out the business card that Billie, my "Sleep Consultant" gave me last week and noticed that in large font on the bottom it says:

Over 25 Years of Bedding Experience

That's what she said.

Yay new stuff!

I bought the couch last night, though I'm concerned that Ikea still hasn't sent me an email receipt. Guess I'll have to see if they charged my card yet. Those delivery fees are a bitch, yo. Nearly $200! Anyway, they don't even have any in stock at College Park, so picking it up wasn't an option.

I also bought my camera, settling on Scott's advice with the adorable Canon Elph, convinced more by it's quick shot-to-shot time than anything else. But the price was good, too. I was hoping for a little more than 6mp, because I want to be able to blow them up large, but I was sacrificing more by getting higher MPs than by limiting myself to 14x19s.

I totally procastinated buying my Borat tickets, but I think that's a good thing. I completely forgot that I have to disassemble all the effing furniture in my house so I can get it down the stairs. Tonight's my last night sleeping on a bed, then it's all heroin-addict chic for me, waking up on an old mattress on the floor for the next two weeks. Anyone want to come to Tenleytown to pick up my queen this afternoon? No? Alright. This is looking to be quite an exciting Friday night, people. Lucky for me, it looks like it's going to be all hands on deck tomorrow for the furniture moving, which means I better stock up on beer and perhaps some grillable meats.

Things that make me ________

Sad:



Somehow the little gray cap popped off, but I can't find it. My one-of-a-kind tough-as-nails iPod is finally starting to slip into oblivion as well. It's a first generation, which I bought for a pittance out of the Apple refurbished stock a little over three years ago. I dare you to name another iPod that's lasted half that long! You can't. Mine's been battered and abused and overused, but it just keeps truckin'. But, I'm finally starting to see battery failure, lasting a meager 2.5 hours to it's original 8. Ah, still, can't quite justify a new one yet. I'll just have to pretend I'm one of those people who buys black headphones so people won't think they're some bourgeois trendy iPod person.

Upset:

Um, wtf? My keyboard just totally stopped working and I had to reboot. This is what I get for letting the warrenty expire without shelling out for AppleCare this time. Stupid free computers.

Happy:

Spending hard cash! It turns out that when you work all day and go out every night, you start to get behind in things. Many of these things I'm going to do tonight, like turn on the gas/internet/phone at my new place, talk to this girl I'm doing a freelance project for that keeps changing it's shape every few weeks, but more importantly, SHOP! I've been putting off buying my couch, so I'm going to break out the cards and do it. Also, the camera I want. I really need to buy it far enough ahead of my trip so I get to know all the functions by heart. What else? Oh, probably this slammin' pair of boots I've been coveting for awhile now, and if I'm going to lay down a grand, we might as well go all the way with this boat show, am I right? Also, they're fucking hot. I've always considered women who wear skirts in winter to be crazy, and I'm about to join their ranks. Hottly.

Ridiculously Happy:

Rebecca sent me this link to Paperback Swap today. She described as a Netflix for books, and omg, if that's not the best thing ever. Rebecca, I'm serious, I think I love you. First you txt me with google calculator answers and now this. Let's move to New Jersey and get married.

Slightly Stressed:

This weekend is the big furniture move, but it's all, like the rest of this thing, logistically problematic. I'm picking up the SUV I rented at 5:30 tomorrow and braving rush hour traffic to pick up my mattress in Tenleytown (they could have delivered it for a ridiculous fee, but I was going to have the SUV anyway), then come home hopefully in time for the mass exodus to Chinatown to see Borat with 100 of my closest friends. And by closest friends, I mean the 100 people Paul sent his evite to, about five of whom I actually know. I may cajole both the roommates to go. Saturday morning is Ikea time, so the roommates and I are heading to College Park at the ass-crack of dawn, no doubt with a stop at Dunkin' Donuts, to fill the SUV with Swedish furniture. I'm worried that they won't have my bed stocked, which will leave me totally, totally fucked, because my subletter arrives Sunday and will probably be expecting to sleep somewhere. Ah well.

I'm off to shop!

I guess I better make a lot of money before I die, too.

This is fun, at least for you art nerds out there. The Guardian makes a list of twenty artworks to see before you die. (Via Tyler) Sadly, and perhaps unsurprisingly, I only know for sure that I've seen one of them, when I was in Paris a few years ago. Naturally, they're all in foreign locales like The Hague, South Africa, and Houston, Texas. Although I've been to MoMA, it was a very long time ago and I just can't picture those pieces listed (as in, picture myself standing there examining them in person). Which isn't to say I haven't seen some amazing stuff, and even before I started writing about art (like, almost a whole year now!) couldn't leave a new town without visiting their art museum. By the by, the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes in Buenos Aires is a must-see if you find yourself in Argentina. The regional artists will impress you as much as the Picassos and Rodins.

The subsequent comment thread on the article is a little precious, if you want to wade through it. Some of them offer up some good suggestions with interesting discussion, but the snobby know-it-alls get in the game, since anonymous comment threads are always the best place to show what an out-of-touch egomaniac you are. Highly recommended reading, by all accounts.

Oh sweet jesus

I was walking home from work around 8 tonight and turned the corner at 19th and M. Across the street there's a Chipotle I've been in exactly once, because Chipotle is kinda gross and I usually have to be compelled my some force bigger than even my considerable appetite to venture inside. What do I see outside on a Tuesday night? A line, quite literally, down the street. A line of people who are, in fact, dressed as fucking Chipotle burritos. A LINE DOWN THE STREET. Have we really come to this? Did the terrorists win and I just haven't heard about it yet?

I mean, if you're going to dress up like a Chipotle burrito just cause you think it's funny (and I've seen such things today!) that's another ball of wax, and I can get behind the humor of such a thing, hopefully with a dollop of extra-fatty irony. But if $6 is just too much to pay for a thin wrapping gorged with fat-pulsing cheese and ten zillion carbs of rice, then you know what you do? You make them at home. I do all the time. And it doesn't require clothing myself in tin-foil hats or embarrassing myself by hanging out on M Street in such garb. Well, let's be honest, it's pretty hard to embarrass yourself on M Street. Not when ten steps away I passed a girl who was pointing across the street and saying enthusiastically to her lame boyfriend, "Sign of the Whale is very good."

Maybe I'll finally get that pillow.

November is already gearing up to be a crazy busy month. On Sunday I helped move my new roommate into our apartment, which she's going to sublet from the owners until the 5th, when my lease begins. It was good, we hung out a little more and talked about where we'd set up furniture, which was a little difficult because the place was still packed to the brim with the owners furniture. Their movers came yesterday and now the roommate tells me the place looks enormous. Oh man, I'm so excited! I kept admiring my new marble kitchen counters the whole time I was there.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to buy this couch in light green. I know, it's Ikea, but I've sat on this couch back when Tony almost bought one last year, and it's a perfectly decent sitting experience. Plus, the price is all kinds of right. The owners are selling me this very nice futon that will round out the living room. I'm selling my bed to the roommate and buying a queen. Holla! I already bought the mattress and can't effing wait to pick it up this weekend. One day very soon I will fit completely in a bed!

Actually, the fun begins in earnest this weekend, when I disassemble my bedroom furniture in order to fit it down the stairs, haul it six blocks with the help of an SUV and some very generous, beer-loving, muscled friends, and then reassemble it. I'll leave my old mattress at my current place so I can sleep there through Thanksgiving, and sublet my new room to a doctoral-thesis writer who's paying an ungodly sum of money for a two week rental. (Shhh!) I also have to hit up Ikea on Saturday with the roommate for some small things, maybe a bookcase or two, and probably a bunch of other things I'll find that I Totally Need. Becks has generously offered to give me her boxes after she moves into the city this weekend, which is great because I was totally going to wing it this time and just cram it all in a Zip Car after Thanksgiving, but this will let me plan ahead a little.

Oh, check it out, new roommate has a sweet knife block! I've always wanted a knife block, and went out looking for a set awhile back before I realized I was going to have to drop hundreds and hundreds of dollars for stuff that chops things good. Seeing as my primary culinary talent, however, lies in this Chopping Stuff Good category, I'm totally stoked to experience her knives next time I make some pico de gallo.

Putting the cart before the horse, as usual, we've practically got our housewarming party all planned out. She's even got people planning to come down from Philly. Rage! Or something. I just hope it's not so frigid that people don't want to at least briefly go outside and gawk at my awesome patio and dream of the warm, all-night, beer-filled bar-b-ques that will start promptly on the spring equinox. Apparently my friend Paul has already planned his summer Sunday nights to revolve around Sierra Nevada's in my backyard, which is just fine by me.

Everyone's Watching

The other day I was hanging out at Solly's, chatting on and off with the bartender, who I don't remember seeing there before. Out of nowhere he asks, "Did you come in here the other day and walk out?" And, like, yeah, I did actually. Sommer and I had walked in but the downstairs was packed and the upstairs, while a little less than half-full, was so quiet you could literally hear a pin drop. So yeah, we just turned around and left. Apparently people noticed.

A little later that evening, the owner comes by to chat, and out of nowhere he suddenly asks, "So, do you have a blog?" Ha! Remember when I said I was getting google hits for "Solly's U Street Tavern" like crazy? Apparently some of those were him, and apparently there's enough information on my blog for him to easily know it's mine. WEIRD. And, hello! I actually had a feeling it might be someone from the bar, because I don't really see people across the city googling the bar all day, but if I owned a new establishment, I would totally google it everyday to see what people were saying. Good thing I was nice, eh?

Earlier this week, I was walking down the street and heard my named called. Across the street I see Kyle, who had been walking my direction, trying to figure out for about a block or so if it was really me over there. Which just reminded me why I don't, you know, pick my nose in public or say things on the blog I wouldn't say in person or basically ever do anything inappropriate because PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS WATCHING.

Smile!