half a cat

Hey there! Do you enjoy newspaper ink stained fingers? Repeatedly lifting boxes over 50 lbs? Can handle hours of tedious work all the while handling valuable objects? Have nothing better to do for 4 or 5 days this week ? Can ignore boxes and boxes of pr0n? (I, uh, got it, uh on Ebay for, yeah! on Ebay…) Wouldn’t mind slaving away your days while I sit around in tube sox and underwear, drinking coffee, and trying to scratch rythmically to CMT ? GOOD! I will patiently wait here (in said underwear and sox) for you to show up to help, and I do mean in the full sense of the “royal help”, me pack up house! If I don’t answer the door right away, please just let yourself in — I’m probably sleeping.

Soo…. yeah. I’ve actually started putting things into boxes here at Casa Del Neek* (sorry P, stealing the * for side-stories). After a trip to Target to get the pasticy storage bins and bubble wrap, I managed to get all of the good dishes wrapped up and ready to move. This includes a very nice set of dishes my Grandma gave me for my b-day-slash-thanksgiving (complete with manly pink roses and gold trim), several serving platters from the Moms, and some candlesticks & other sundry items. I did manage to get it all into one bin, so I’m pretty happy about that — it should move pretty well too do to my recent experience of moving in May 2002, Aug 2002, July 2004 and December 2004. God damnit I’d love to stay in a house for more than a year or two! I’m hoping to get the books packed up next — I’ve got a bookcase loaded with them, and a smaller one in the office that is collecting a few as well. I’m guessing 4 or 5 good sized boxes just with books…which reminds me to get smaller boxen – no sense herniating this early in the process. I will save that pleasent medical event for when I try to extract my current landlords’ fingers from my prostate….

At any rate — this whole moving thing is starting to sink in. It is very very weird to think that in a short 4 weeks, it is very likely that I will be unpacking my stuff already somewhere new and starting a new job (fingers crossed). I’ve got so much stuff, the thought of it all being packed up seems downright outrageous. If I can manage to do a little at a time, I’m sure the pounds will just melt away and soon enough all my wordly possesions (some would call them “boxes of shit”) will be ready for transport to far away and exciting lands. Imagine “Minnesota” where everyone talks with an accent ala Fargo, the mosquitos carry away small children, it snows like hell hath frozen over (and yet, no Vikings in the playoffs), and strange actor people carry about their business. Fascinating — to even think such a mythical place even exists is beyond me. One would be remiss if he didn’t recant all of the scary religious fables about Salt Lake City – land of 1432 wives (why piss off more than one woman?), liquor laws that would make Jerry Falwell pucker, moral and cultural restrictions even the Bush administration can’t fathom, and skiing out of your front door. With those two options, it is tough to make up my mind. I don’t know how, but I will manage in some fashion.

• So as for Neek…it all started in college when I picked up a Russian ice skating instructor at a country bar in Philly (yes, it was as odd as that sounds). She was H.O.T, well she was until I saw her eat mashed potatoes without her lips touching…shudder…anyways — she had and amusing way of pronoucing my first name. This resurfaced in the last jobs when I went on a rampage about something and one of my co-workers referred to me as Dr. Neek. I guess it kinda stuck then as my alter-ego — I would change my “nick” to Neek anytime I was about to exercise my wrath on something.