cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

it’s like a lobster

as a side note, i am fairly sure that our “starving students” movers were neither, unless they were studying how to best fuck up a simple move. and i’m all about giving people the benefit of the doubt. really. these guys were hopeless. they even backed into the fence in front of our new apartment. chad and i watched the parade of incompetence with a mixture of horror and amusement, which really, if you’re going to mix two emotions, that’s a good combo.

ooo, the flower dude is here, and he just put a big vase of purple stalky things in the lobby.

did i mention the hysterical giggles i lapsed into early sunday morning? i couldn’t stop laughing, at nothing in particular. this happens infrequently, and usually lasts for about twenty to thirty minutes. i kept trying to explain to chad the pinching sensation that the raucous laughter was having on my lower back; all i could think of in description was “it’s like a lobster” – which, in retrospect, i guess is like enormous lobster claws pinching either side of my waist.

no, i’m not on drugs.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.