It has come time to retire the Minifridge blog.  By Friday evening, everyone currently living here will be gone.  Soon after, I imagine someone else will be living here.

I'm actually not depressed at all to be leaving this apartment.  I'll miss Nate and Oafy, but the apartment itself?  Its time to move on from here.

This has been my home for a year.  And what a year.

I asked Teejay to marry me the day we decided we were going to move into this place.  Now we don't speak to each other, as every time we do leaves us both pissed off.

When we moved, Moof was our third roommate, filled with theories of financial independence and doing something with his life beyond play World of Warcraft.  However, it turned out that those ideas would remain purely that: just ideas, never acted on.  Another bitter disappointment.

When I moved, I had had alcohol once, and never touched it at all.  It was here that I got drunk enough to pass out on the couch, weaping bitter tears after things went to hell with Teejay.

When I moved in, I was headed back to school full time, to finally get a degree, maybe go teach, and get a stable job, a decent income, and a stable life.  Now I'm in school part time, and still about evenly split between going back full time and saying fuck all, I'm writing.

When we moved, Wolvie was bound and determined to program a video game, a project that has been pushed back again and again.  I have come to wonder whether, in the end, it will be as mercurial as Moof's independence.

So very much to be bitter about in the past year.

And yet...

When I moved in, I was hardly writing.  Now hardly a day goes by that I'm not writing or editing *something*.

For years, I've wanted to take busses all over Denver to see what I could find, and walk huge distances through parts of the city I've never seen.  Finally, I have begun to do so.

I started out stable, knowing precisely what I thought I wanted.  All of that is gone.  And yet, in dragging myself back out of that I've learned things that I never would have otherwise, and in the end I think I'm as happy now as I was moving in.

In the end, I can't be bitter.  My life now is very much what I've always dreamed it could be.  The crap of the first half year I lived here now seems like a wierd dream, and waking up has been wonderful.

Of course, I can't speak for my roommates.  I know without a doubt, though, that life in this apartment has not been anything that I had hoped it would be.  

And yet, for all that, it's been a damn good year.

It may not have been the year when everything went right.  Frankly, it might have been the year when *nothing* went right.  But fucking up this much just means ruling out 5 more ways of how not to do things.

This week, I move into a new place.  I can take what I've learned from here and maybe, with some luck, I can avoid fucking up in all those ways.  Begin fucking up in new and exciting ways instead.

The new place may or may not have a blog.  The total failure to update regularly on this one suggests that we may not bother.

Either way... thanks for reading, and adios.

get's cybernetic upgrades!

That's right, kids!  Everyone's favorite couch, that has been with me for a far larger portion of my life than I care to admit (and has seen more action than any piece of furniture I own, and yes, I include my bed) has now made it's way into the cybernetic realm!

It needed a new coat of tape (the bit of hazard tape that had been patching a section of the bottom was coming off), and somehow the best thing I could find was bright fucking shiny foil tape.

The result?

This:






And how reflective is it, you ask?

This is a picture taken from about a foot away:



Now I just need to find multi-colored christmas lights to wrap around the thing, and oh god the pain it burns.

Relations between the Republic of Oaf and Timothilland have become strained int he last week.

Timothiland has lodged an official complaint over an incident in which the Prime Minister of the Republic of Oaf peed on the presidential bed of Timothiland.  In response, Timothiland severely cut back on its export of belly rubs, and barred the P.M. from entering Timothiland in the near future.

In response to this, the P.M. of Oaf was secreted into that country during a slight gap in border security, and peed on the trenchcoat of Timothiland.

Although outright war does not appear to be on the horizon, the president of Timothiland had this to say:  "My god d*** trenchcoat smells like cat pee.  That cat is never getting into my room again.  She can pet her own god damn belly."

The P.M., when asked for comment, meowed, rolled over, and presented her belly.

So, recently our apartment complex switched ownership, which means that all the people in the office changed.  This is ass, because our old office people were awecore, and the new people suck.  Wolvie probably has more to say on this issue then I do.

Now, this next bit is probably unrelated to the change, but it is clearly too funny to be mere coincidence.  I've been doing laundry this morning, and I seem to have been the victim of a dryer ninja.

It's the only possibility that fits the facts.  I put in my clothes, put in my 75 cents, and walked away for perhaps 50 minutes.  (The dryer cycle is 45.)  When I came back down, the timer had given way to the credits inserted (which means that the door has been opened) and my clothes were slightly warm, but still damp.

Which means that, as near as I can tell, someone ran in right after I left, pulled out my clothes, put them on top of the dryer, dried *their* clothes, ran back out, and put their back in.

The timing would have to have been impeccable.  They clearly must have been in the room, invisible, and right behind me.

Clearly, the only possible explanation is ninjas.

Haven't updated in a while, so I present to you some tidbits of disinterest:

-Saladin and I have taken to doing communal grocery shopping every other Saturday, which allows me to carry more foodstuffs, as well as streamlining the whole process.  This has led to the realization of just how many, precisely, people at that King Soopers are convinced that we're a nice gay couple.
-After only 3 days of trying to cook this fajita recipe, I finally treked out in 8 inches of snow to go get beer, the last remaining ingredient.  Between beer and chicken fajitas, we have gotten Wolvie's retox off to a good start.
-Oafy has finally realized the benefits of dealing with people other then Saladin.  Which is to say that she will walk up to, say, me when he is not here and whine and bitch and moan and present her belly until someone pets her, god damn it.  The lack of natural instincts on this cat is astonishing: "Hey, look!  Something bigger then me!  Must... present... belly!"  It may be suicidal, but it is also adorable, and so is therefore forgivable.

SNAKES ON A PLANE

SNAKES

ON

A

PLANE,

MOTHERFUCKER.

"You either want to see that, or you don’t." -SLJ

So, Moof is moving out of the Fridge.

Nate is also moving into the Fridge.

So, currently, we have 4 people, all of their furniture, and a cat crammed into our apartment.

I have pictures of the maze of insanity that currently constitutes our living room, which I will post... soon.

That is all.

Nothing says "welcome home" quite like the sight of a roommate bursting out the door to his room, defensively clutching a nerf gun to defend the apartment against all intruders...

who possess keys to the front door.

You ever get the distinct feeling that if you just turned around suddenly, you would find some nebulous force of the cosmos bitch-slapping the everliving snot out of you? Yeah.

I will shoot up the apartment in a gory rage of... of foam. An'i'll crusha dewcan onma head. Rarr.*






*Pimps are notorious sandwich connoisseurs. Sadly, this bit rarely makes it into the stereotype.