You would think that moving from one apartment to another in the same building would be easier than doing a full-on move.

Unfortunately, as I’ve realized as I prepare to move downstairs to get out of the abominable heat of my current apartment, this is clearly not the case.

You still have to do 90% of the work: Pack everything in boxes, file change of addresses with eight billion companies, move all your utilities.

About the only things you don’t have to do are 1) rent a truck and 2) scrape together the money for another security deposit.

Damnation.

I’m not sure what this is a sign of, but it’s got to be a sign of something.

I can be completely out of every ounce of substances edible to humans, but if I’m tired, I’ll just say “Fuck it, I’ll pick something up tomorrow.”

But if I’m even almost out of cat food, it doesn’t matter how exhausted I am, I’ll go to Ralph’s and haul out eight pounds of food for my little buddy.

I mean, I generally eat three meals a day at work and can order in when necessary. But I still find it a bit odd that I’ll feed Chaplin long before I feed myself.

Tonight’s episode: Poseidon. The questions I’ve come up with, ten minutes into the movie:

- Who on earth watched the original Poseidon Adventure and decided “What this hysterically over-the-top movie needs is a completely straightfaced, effects-heavy remake!”?

- Is Jacinda Barrett trying to pull off an American accent? Or some sort of weird nondescript Greater British Empire accent? Because if it’s the former, she fails miserably.

- Sweet God above, who decided to murder the ears of the audience by having Fergie of the Black-Eyed Peas try to be a torch singer?

- When did Richard Dreyfuss start looking really, really old?

- How much did they cut out of this movie? I knew a guy who worked on this and it shot for eight months, and it barely surpasses 90 minutes.

Anyway, back to watching Wolfgang Peterson blow over $1 million per minute of finished product.

I am not the only member of my family with a job that is a bit unusual.

My stepbrother Rob does PR for Chik-Fil-A, which is how he ended up doing the weather in a cow costume on the local Fox morning show in Atlanta.

Typed words were simply not enough.

Click to listen, it’s under three minutes.

Part of why things have trailed off a touch on this blog is because of the absolutely absurd amount of gym time I’ve been putting in lately.

5 days a week, killing myself at the gym, waiting for the tiny little reward on Sundays when I see that, if I’m lucky and have been trying to watch what I eat, all that fighting has lost…one pound!

This all started in February, after several weeks of sedentary moping, when I looked at the scale and saw a number I swore I’d never see.

I’m a quarter of the way to where I want to be from where I was, which, thinking about it, is actually pretty decent. But the slow, slow pace is just maddening.

I’m hitting something similar with my foot (which I go to Physical Therapy for the other two days a week), where it’s miles better than it was, but the pain and continued PT are making me nuts.

I want to be in shape and running around, not fighting for ever tenth of an inch of plantarflexion and just about dying on the recumbent bike.

Stupid body. Why must you make me pay for my prior indiscretions?

I got the following in my personal email inbox a few hours ago, and I’m a bit confused:

The points of confusion, all around the “Why on earth would they send this now?” question:

1. It’s August 15th.

2. I would have understood getting this in my work email as I do a lot of work with gifting. My personal email? Makes no sense.

3. It’s fucking August 15th.

4. When I’ve gotten quotes about turnaround time for numbers of engraved iPods in the hundreds, they’ve quoted me three weeks, even near Christmas.

5. IT’S FUCKING AUGUST GODDAMN 15th.

They even beat the absurdly-early-last-year L.L. Bean Christmas Catalog by almost a full month. What. The. Fuck?

Some days, I think I’m starting to really lose my mind. And then I read a handwritten pro se lawsuit like this festival of batshit craziness and realize I have a long way to go.

Courtesy Fark.

It’s always interesting when a television show includes one line of dialogue that sums up the entire show.

John From Cincinnati, I suspect, did not intend for this particular line to crystalize reaction to the show, but it certainly captured my reaction.

Three guys are sitting in a van in the wilderness, having spent the night waiting for the bangers who stabbed one of them. After a night of nothing, one of them says, in a deeply sarcastic tone, to no one in particular:

“Well, that was time well spent.”

And then the episode cuts to black.

I laughed at the irony when it first aired, and then I immediately went back to that line after watching the maddeningly obtuse season (and likely series) finale.

It’s pretty amazing when someone who was a huge fan of the festival of weirdness that was Carnivàle ends up finding your show too frustratingly bizarre to watch.

I felt my first earthquake last night.

I will say, I didn’t really realize it was a quake at the time. There was a big jolt and then a little residual shaking, and I figured someone had just dropped something heavy on the stairs.

This is partly because the last time I felt my bed shaking in the middle of the night and thought it was a quake, I looked up I saw Chaplin vigorously licking his own ass on the other end of the bed. So I figured this was some similarly silly explanation.

There was also very little knocked over. The only thing that I recall being out of place this morning was a shower squeegee that fell from its perch into the shower.

But when I came in, everyone was talking about how they felt the quake in the middle of the night (member of the accounting team: “I thought, ah hell, am I going to have to get out of bed?”).

I’m just glad the first quake I felt wasn’t some huge Northridge-level quake, but a relatively lame one. Although I’m sure I’ll now be shouting “QUAKE!” and sprinting to the nearest doorframe every time a big truck drives by for the next couple of weeks.