So tired that when I was at the hardware store tonight waiting for the credit card swiper to bring up the signature page, I started randomly singing the “doo doo doo dee doo dee doo doo do” part of The Hustle…out loud.

The clerk noticed, and called me on it. I told him it was either that, or The Girl From Ipanema. I think he thought I was insane.

If he did, he would not have been wrong.

There’s a new website where you can create your own Colbert Report “On Notice” board. Here’s mine:

Orange Cat Torturing Chaplin, you’re officially On Notice.

Is it bad that it’s not even October and I’m already growing tired of dealing with Christmas stuff?

A brief comparison of my old and new apartments, and the neighborhoods containing them:

Time to Work
Old: 20-35 minutes, depending on traffic.
New: 10-15 minutes, depending on traffic.
Winner: New

Flooring
Old: Grody, easily stained and horrific to clean carpet.
New: Hardwood floors.
Winner: New

Kitchen
Old: Termite-infested cabinets, linoleum from the 70′s, barely enough room to turn around.
New: Brand new everything, marble floor, granite countertops, decent size.
Winner: New

Bathroom
Old: Tiny, with the sink and mirror in the hall for some reason.
New: Still fairly small, but self-contained. Marble tile on the floor and in the shower, brand new fixtures.
Winner: New.

Bedroom
Old: Large room, tiny closet.
New: Moderate size room, huge closet (which I’ve basically turned into a storage area.
Winner: Draw.

Owner/Management of Building
Old: Extremely sketchy company that is quite possibly a front for the Russian mob (How many legit property management companies do you know that operate out of a PO Box?).
New: Single owner that people have actually seen, using a property management company with actual offices.
Winner: New

Closest Fast Food Restaurant
Old: In-N-Out
New: KFC
Winner: Old.

Closest Store
Old: Costco
New: 99¢ Only
Winner: New

Closest School
Old: Massive public high school, right out my window.
New: Language magnet school four blocks away.
Winner: New

Distance From Beach
Old: 1.7 miles
New: 2.3 miles
Winner: Old

Cat Control
Old: Cat couldn’t get out of the building, could only see other cats in the building.
New: Cat keeps trying to run out the door into the neighborhood every time I leave the house, other cats come to the window and mock him until he starts yowling at them.
Winner: Old.

Tangent alert! I took Chaplin to get chipped this morning, and I found it odd to be putting a chip in him the week we aired an episode with a kid trying to cut a chip out.

Parking
Old: Gated and underground, but with a tendency for the gate to get stuck at inconvenient times.
New: Off street.
Winner: Old, but not by much.

Vertical Transportation
Old: Elevator, prone to breakdowns and squeaking like a crying child.
New: One flight of stairs.
Winner: Draw.

Bottom line, there are a few things about the old place that I’ll miss, but the new place is far, far ahead in all the areas I really give a shit about. And I probably shouldn’t live two blocks from an In-N-Out Burger anyway.

I’ve got a some photos of the new place up at Flickr, along with several photos of Chaplin helping me move. Enjoy!

The blogging shall recommence in earnest this weekend with an Old Place vs. New Place comparison, and exclusive pictures of my new place.

I outbid In Touch weekly for the photographs.

Chaplin is still adjusting to the new apartment.

Guess which one is the real Chaplin and win a prize!*

note: prize is the satisfaction of being right.

If you can read this, Time Warner Cable officially just got much lower on my Shit List.

The following people, corporate entities, and inanimate objects are hereby on notice:

1. Time Warner Cable. Four hours of pure fiasco, and I still don’t have cable. “It needs to come in from outside” apparently didn’t convey clearly enough the need for drilling, and thus for a signed note from the building manager.

The manager, of course, was elsewhere, so the guys (who were an hour late to begin with and didn’t call to say they were running beind) left.

2. The garage door at my old building. As I was coming into the garage with my last armload of stuff, someone started to try and come in. The door got about a foot off the ground and then crashed with a very loud metallic THUNK.

I’m writing this up via the Swiss Army Phone while sitting in my car, waiting for the super to come over. The length of time it’s taken for him to come over, let alone open the gate, is making him very close to being On Notice.

3. My back and my ankle. Listen kids, you stop fighting with me and I’ll buy you some serious painkillers.

Why couldn’t this warning have just been in place since 1981?