First Day In...

I know I promised to write once a day, but I'm cheating today. I couldn't do anything yesterday because I worked all day, then got home just in time for H-girl to pick me up and go over to the new apartment to pick up the keys and move the refrigerator stuff into the new place. Alright, nuff wit da excusez. Continuing...

Being away from Hawaii and not having all the sauces and foods that I'm used to and love so much, and not being able to get them here in NY, I really had to think about what to keep and what to toss.

Honestly if I was at home, I probably would have tossed most of it. Easier to pack and easily replaceable. Well, not so with me. I found myself seriously thinking~'I think I can get one more meal out of this.' Or, 'it only expired a week ago~she still good!' When its not easy to get something you crave, you cherish what you have left! Which is good. I'm not being wasteful. Yeah, that's it.

I had a run in with one of the movers. It ended with him calling me 'whack'. I wasn't happy about it when it happened, because I really wanted to pull a Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka and crack his skull. But calmer heads prevailed, although 'stink eyes' was in effect. Believe me, if looks could kill I'd be in jail writing for funds.

I was thinking about how I would go about clocking the jerk. Would I put the weight of my entire body against his throat through my right forearm to his neck? Yeah, that's a good one. Almost 'Scarface'/'Goodfellas' action. That's a good one. Or, would I knock him to the ground, then put my knee to his back, rubbing his face in the concrete, asking him if he had any other clever, original words other than 'whack' to tell me. "Huh, punk?! What you said?!" Yeah, that would feel good. Or, would I dare to be like Jimmy 'Superfly' Snuka, the most famous Fijian during my youth, who would climb up the sides of the ring, open both his arms, make the 'I Love You' sign, then dive onto his opponent smashing him with his infamous Superfly Smash. Then he'd pick the loser up, flip him upside down in his arms, then do the Piledriver on his now limp body, crushing his opponent into next week and securing the win. That's what I wanted to do--I wanted to pile drive him. I wanted to pull him out of his truck and clothesline the sucka. I wanted do all of this, all outside my new apartment, in the 32 degree weather, on the streets of the Bx. All without the animal print bikini. (I'm crazy, but not THAT crazy.)

Ah, faux wrestling violence is so good sometimes to quell the seething beast of revenge.

I'd then use the remaining adrenalin that would be flooding my blood streams, for good, and no longer for evil. I'd head upstairs to my new apartment and whip this place into shape. I'm sure by the time my natural high is done, all my things would have found its new-found home in the apartment and I would have more than enough time to make prank phone calls to Rowdy Roddy Piper or Don 'The Rock' Muraco reminding them how silly their skirts and tights looked on them (All the while, hoping they'd completely blocked out my fancy animal print skivvies...shhhhh).

But, that's not the case. The jerk got away cussing at me out the window of his rental truck, and I was left with my stink eyes. But at least my things were in the apartment, I was not under arrest, and my emotions, eventually, were managed. Whew. And there was no unnecessary body slamming.

So I'm sitting on my bed in the new place and taking a break to write this blog out. I'll take some photos of my new apartment. It's so much nicer and bigger than the last place. It's an adults apartment. I truly feel blessed. It's my first day in the new joint, and I've cut a finger, twisted my lower back, and re-enacted a few famous WWF (Old-school WWE, y'all) cage matches.

Good night.