Monday, June 28, 2004

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Moving Day

The two worst words in the english language. moving day. Since I have been in Atlanta, I have had to endure 11 moving days.

Louisville --> Freshman Dorm
Freshman Dorm --> Louisville
Louisville --> Frat House
Frat House --> Arbor Hills
Arbor Hills --> Frat House
Frat House --> Caliber Woods
Caliber Woods --> Frat House
Frat House --> Arbor Hills
Arbor Hills --> Arbor Gates
Arbor Gates --> Gables Montclair
Gables Montclair --> Virginia Avenue House

10/11 of these moving days were done using friends, a uhaul truck, or some other form of do-it-yourself option where I had to lift chairs, boxes, desks, all that shit... tons of shit every time. FINALLY i wised up and paid for 3 movers to come help me move out. Now, I dont have a ton of shit.... i actually have never really had to buy furniture sets besides my bedroom stuff. I could have done it myself, it would have been slightly cheaper. But the reason I agreed to get movers is because I would have to move my shit plus Katzs shit and who the hell wants to endure that misery again. (our old place had 3 flights of windy stairs)

So the movers show up at 9 am on sunday...stellar. rainy weather, this is getting so much better. here is what they basically look like:

So Ice Cube is the leader of the movers, and the other two are his flunkies. I swear to god the other black dude, the one we shall call cornrows, talks like tyrone biggums and his 5'o clock free crack giveaway. I ask them if they want something to drink, seeing how I am doing jack shit and they are lifting all the heavy shit into the truck. Orange Juice, coke, any kinda juice is the response. good thing that stereotype isnt true.

It takes these 3 slabs of meathead 1/3 of the time what it would take for me and chicken arms to move all the shit. We roll to the new place, they start unloading. I go to grab arbys. 4 roast beef sandwiches, a chicken sandwich, and a TON of ketchup. oops, one more stereotype. drink requests? sweet tea, sprite, coke, and orange soda. damn cornrows, you sure do love that orange soda.

Then white boy asks katz, yo do you all party? katz not knowing if he is asking about smoking weed or sucking dick goes, like what kind. Like do you smoke herb. oh, ya. ya. Trip #2 back to the old place, grab the bubbler and the bag. By this time cornrows and cube have left with the truck, but whitey is still there waiting for his boss to pick him up. (PS-- we tipped $20 each, is that cool? are you supposed to?)

Pack bizzowl. Smoke. I rip on southerners for talking like idiots and drawling out their words... this guy from Smyrna, GA thought that I was doing that shit. but yo, that shit happens when you woke up at 8 am and its only 11:30 and you just scattered to tape up boxes, hang and fold all your clothes, unplug all electronics, no shower, and you settle down for a post-move-in wake and bake.

Conversation meanders around weed, quality of mids this guy has to settle for, and will i sell him any. Sketch. He gives me back the 20 i gave him, in exchange for one large nug of emory's finest. most of the stuff round these parts is very "d" so this guy was real real fucked up. then at the close of convo, when his boss is waiting outside, he goes: ya man this is real good, im gonna have to stop by to pick up next time i am in the neighborhood.



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