Fuck yeah!

So I meet this guy named Eric West a few weeks ago. Total renaissance man. We hit it off pretty well, and at some point he tells me that he has a motorcycle he wants to give me. Of course, I instantly forgot all about that and continued on with my life. Then he drops it on me again last week. Now this is sitting in the driveway.



I'm pretty sure that it needs very little. A little engine tuning. A new rear tire. A different seat. And, for christ's sake, some different bars. How were those ever cool looking?

New neighborhood... same rules.

Squirrels are squirrels, no matter what part of the city you're in. I vow to continue my campaign of cleaning up the streets and making the neighborhood safe for children by shooting as many of these motherfuckers as possible.

In my new neighborhood, there appears to be less shit bats than at my previous place. Perhaps I've just been missing them. Perhaps they received a memo from other squirrels to look out for the tall Irish/Polish/Norwegian motherfucker sticking his head out of random windows. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm not alone in this war. Maybe, hopefully, someone else out here cares about their city enough to do what needs to be done, as disturbing as it can be at times.



A word to anyone who views me with disgust for shooting these pieces of shit. Immediately after killing this thing, 2 more came to the scene. This was new to me. I felt fortunate, though, for obvious reasons. Was I going to get 3 in one day? Well, for whatever reason, I decided to observe the enemy for a while instead of shooting them. What I witnessed next was at once both educational and horrific. I saw one of the remaining squirrels attack the lifeless body of his fallen comrade.

Under what code of morality would this be acceptable? None, thats what. These are evil creatures...

What the Hell!

Eric, myself, and the royal women-folk in the 1700 household went to Jimmy's last night. I went home early, and in my slumber, I got a text message from Tiffany that read "make us some food manly man bitch". Unacceptable. When I awoke, I busted up her sleep only to find this...



What in the fuck? Am I the only one that finds this crazy? I you look closely and take inventory, you will find the following...

1 box of tissues
1 iPhone/charger
1 computer
1 giant fucking purse
1 jacket w/furry thing attached
1 unrecognizable black thing
1 paper bag

Hey Tiffany, I think I see some extra room that we can pile some more shit on the next time you fall asleep.

Sunday at bar (x)...

I finally made it to (x) on a Sunday morning. Many Sundays have I planned on going here, as they have a very special thing going. For the last 27-29 years, the owner of this establishment has been buying 100+ White Castles and handing them out for free every Sunday morning while all the good people of this fine country are at church, recanting their sins or something.



He has a plaque on the wall, from White Castle, signifying his patronage. He is also in the White Castle Hall of Fame. Who knew there even was such a thing...

Not my sock.

This is not my sock. I don't know whose sock it is, but it its not mine.



I found it in my laundry. These are the things that I can expect to see more of as my new living situation/journey evolves.

A New Chapter

I moved. Again. It seems like I have made moving a yearly thing. This time, though, promises to be different. This time, I'm living with two women. What have I done...

Actually, so far its been great. Both of my roommates are highly enjoyable, interesting, and adult people. They are also pretty goddamn hot, which is kind of a perk. We landed a 4 bedroom Victorian in my absolute favorite part of NE Minneapolis... 2 blocks from Jimmy's. The house is great, the landlord is nice, the disposal is fucking hi-tech, the window in my closet(sniper position #1) is perfect for killing squirrels, our furniture worked perfect... its just a pretty good situation all around.

There is a problem, though. Actually, there will be a problem. At least for my roommates, at some point. See, I'm used to either living alone, or with a dude who rarely woke up before noon. I don't like clothes on when I sleep. None. When I wake up, I tend to be on autopilot for the first 45 seconds or so, or however long it takes me to get to the bathroom. Here lies the problem for my roommates. One of these days, one of them will be up early, minding their own business and WHAM!... there's me in all my un-glory. Surely not the way they will want to start their day.



This, dear reader, is another issue we will be exploring. This is hair... Tiffany's hair. Tiffany's hair is beautiful, yes, but its also fucking everywhere. At least it seems like it to a guy who has had a crew cut for the last 15 years. Anyway, I'm going to be documenting it. This is Exhibit A.

Stasis

It seems like no matter what I do, I'm going to be forever burdened by circumstances that want to deny me of quality, reliable internet access. Whether it be roommates who don't seem up to be up to the task of staying on top of ONE bill, or technical problems that I have no idea how to remedy... the forces that be just don't want me online.

So yeah, I haven't been on top of my blog as of late. I haven't been keeping up with my email as of late. I'm having trouble changing over my bills. I'm not wasting nearly enough time online...

Here, though is a picture from one of my last showers in my former place. What every excellent house needs is a ledge of some sort in the shower.