so it is apparently in the bag, all i have to do is show up with the money and i can become a non-squatting resident of west philadelphia. and i could use a wagon to move my shit. either like a regular wagon or the wagon of cucamonga. or a wagon to be named later. i think i left some part of me that enables excitement back home, i haven't been able to get real geeked up about anything out here, even things i really like. not that i'm not having fun, but only a few things have gotten me super hyped. mostly new potato chips. and a new wilco show on etree. those fuckers are playing detroit. and pittsburgh. and not philly.
not that i'd have money to go. i'm never going to have any money ever again for the rest of my life. i wish there was a biolife in west philly; that would kick more as than i could ever tell you. that was really the lynchpin of my earlier financial success during educational times. i had all i could have wanted, really. fifty extra bucks a week is no joke for a person like myself. fortunately i will have the best house. i know i've mentioned it many times, but i really can't say enough about how the best house is the best fucking house ever. and opening soon i will open the best apartment, conveniently located across the street from the best house. list of inventory and offers coming soon. let's just say that if you want to move to philly, call me. i'll tell you where i live and then you can live there too cause its fucking huge. and it will have cats. and the best house. the best house has a bigger menu than eastown deli ever imagined. breakfast all day. that's right fuckers. and i don't even like breakfast. but they also have like 40 some sandwiches, pizzas, calzones, platters, you fucking name it, it's on senor. no burritos, that's the only glaring omission. but there's el vez for mexican food. i'm gonna rob some shit so i can eat at restaurants all the time. lawyers don't usually get to be restaurant critics. i fucked up. or booze critics. i really fucked up... michael jackson the booze dude died last week. bummer. i drank that expensive booze for him. anyway, restaurant week is coming up here in philly. all the good places make up special menus where shit is cheap and appealing. i can dig that the most. even more than 120 minutes on vh1 classic. but not as much as getting drunk. i still like that one a lot. and nothing here is mutually exclusive.
as you can tell, i don't have shit to say. i'm drinking and reiterating much of what you have already slogged through what i've blogged.
well, i just deleted like five paragraphs that no one needed to see or read. not even a therapist if i had one. at least not that i would tell them. don't trust 'em. i'm gonna stop this non-post before it gets any worse.
but i will warn you about the coors light train. it's comin down your street to wreck your shit. you think it's good arnes but its just gonna straight destroy and leave you with only ONE beer. not compensation enoguh.
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I'll post more when I damn well please. Also, I will send you 3 floyds gumballhead when you send me some Magic Hat.
"Can't get enough of that magic hat"
"guess I forgot to put the foglights in"
you are roughly seventeen billion times more likely to get magic hat in chi-town soon than i am to get the 3 floyds out here, but if you are seriously down to trade i will hook it up. there were a couple bars in gun rue with number nine on tap when i moved and there were tons of magic hat reps in multiple party stores i regularly patronized back there. i wanna know how they got that job. thanks for the laugh. and you'll post when i say.
did you call me arnes? rebecca arnes?
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