Moving sucks. That's a foregone conclusion in most circles, but it's always magnified when you're the sucker that's sucking up a move. Coordinating help, dealing with surly family members who don't want to be bothered to help you move the mess that they partially helped create, and ever-present issues with landlords (both new and old) and utility companies all combine into a vicious stew of suck that is necessarily consumed only to cause an epic case of "life diarrhea." That's right, you become "ol' gravy legs" in an instant when you sign about 4 months of your life away and commit to this atrocity of human existence. I'd prefer to slam my face in a garage door given the chance, but I suppose it is all part of the ebb and flow of life.
That being said...I'm going to sit down, immerse myself in articles about the Tour Down Under and try to forget this truckload of life-poop that's been shoveled into my lap.
Oh, and for the record...
FUCK THE EAGLES. McNabb, you inaccurate son of a whore, get out. Now. And take fatso Andy Reid with you.
Oh god, I need to ride the trainer and get some anger out...
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