Saturday, August 13, 2011

The Best Way To Move!

Having read AwesomeCool and my adventures in CrazyHellTown from June, you might have noticed, we're not the best planners.

Naturally when the move is for reals, dragging children, belongings, a bird (almost. He narrowly escaped death by heat stroke and or freaking out endlessly in the confines of his gerbil cage for the duration of a 2000+ mile car trip, when at the last minute I realized bringing him could only mean certain, painful death for everyone involved.), my vita-mixer (caint live without my smoothies!) my dip station (caint live without my Zuz!) we would learn from our previous dumb-fuckery and everything would go much more smoothly. Right? RIGHT?

Not so much. We didn't even have a hotel room booked for when we rolled into town in our tiny car packed to the brim. Luckily there are many and we found one to our liking.

We had no idea where we were going to live. Luckily we stumbled upon this creepy mega-apartment community a few days after arriving. We took the first apartment that was available.

We moved in (meaning we threw our junk, riff-raff, and odd belongings on the floor).

We had no furniture. We spent the first night literally sleeping on the floor. We had no pillows. We literally slept on the floor without beds, without blankets, without pillows. We had one set of sheets from when we were here before. We took one and gave the kiddies the other. We slept on sheets, on the floor, without pillows, blankets or anything else to protect our near naked bodies from the elements (luckily it's hot as fuck so we didn't really need anything in that regard).

Next day we thought our lives might be slightly more comfortable if we had some things. Like beds and shit.

We went to Ikea. Shopping at Ikea has got to be one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. 10 seconds in I wished I were dead.

There is just toooooo much stuff! It's confusing! Colorful! Completely overwhelming!

The store is just toooooo big! And it's a one way system! As in, you can't make it from the end back to the beginning without retracing your steps! Therefore if you get to the end and realize you need something at the beginning, you've got a ten mile hike in front of you!

You have to locate and load your boxed shit onto a cart yourself. It's very exhausting and fucked up. That stuff is giant, awkward and heavy! Also everything's in fucking Swedish ie: Brimmes, Fjellse, and Malm beds. This is AMERICA goddamit! We go to stores to buy cheap furniture we have to put together ourselves, not learn a foreign language!

Thanks to all that, we were still in the store an hour after closing, trying to get our shit together, screaming at each other and developing a deep, unyielding hatred of anything remotely Swedish. Don't think you're immune Norway!

So we did all that amidst hordes of people (we chose the weekend after the catalog was released, which unbeknownst to us is one of their busiest days) only to find that thanks to the business, it would take two days to deliver our shit. Fuck.

We went home and slept on our sheets, but we made sure to at least by pillows and blankets to lay on! Yay us! Pillows!

By the next morning I hated our apartment. I was filled with deep regrets about being so quick to sign things and get my kids in a stable, home-like environment. Why? Our bedroom was in the sun and near the noise of a busy road. Our bedroom was hot and noisy.

"Ask them if we can change." I commanded AwesomeCool.
"I'm fine with it here. You can ask if you want."

He forced my hand (literally) and I had to promise him a very special reward if he would go ask.

"No." He decided to be stubborn.
"Two very special rewards."

Special rewards get you very far in life if you know how and when to use them.

They said we could move to an apartment right by the pool.

Now I've kind of gotten used to our old apartment and I'm kind of regretting using special rewards to get a new one.

Oh well.

Next we went to the neighborhood schools to register the kiddies. All you need to know about that is that we were not smart enough to collect school records and immunization crap while we were in RainyTown. Yes. We are dumbasses. It's well established.

Actually there is one more thing you need to know.

When we went into Little-Awesome's school, there were two 12-13 year old boys sitting outside. As Mini-Fantabulous breezed by, completely oblivious to their presence, I totally caught one of them checking her out.

So did his friend.

"Don't look at what you can't have." He admonished the checker-outer.
"How you know I can't have it!" The checker-outer responded.

Clearly, you'd think she gets her looks from me, but here's a picture of me at her age. It obviously comes from somewhere else.


James said...

That picture is glorious.

SuperFantabulous said...

The best part is I look pretty much exactly the same.