I’m Bill Paxton and/or Helen Hunt unrealistically tied to plumbing by leather drive belts in that farm pump house. The tornado is fabricated!
Other than nearly losing my semi-firm grip on reality here in Austin, things are sensational.
I acquired a job almost immediately which actually surprised the hell out of me. I must’ve said “Oh, it can’t be that difficult to find a job!” one hundred times while sweating a machine gun magazine full of bullets in every direction while family and friends looked on in secret horror.
I won’t say much about it other than I did find barefaced joy in naming a file “dog poop letter template” the other day. I work right on the UT campus with a sunlight and squirrel friendly office overlooking several walks of shame per morning. I’m only on the second story, so the clip clop of their burnished lady shoes stabbing the concrete mercilessly with every step stops me right in my tracks. I really can’t help but study them a bit.
Last weekend I was proposed to by a heavyhearted, Bukowski type fella who literally peed in his pants a couple stools down from me. I’m not used to being in a bar come witching hour and it’s damn near frightening. From my perspective, women are not unlike the gasoline in Mad Max 2.
It’s been truly spectacular to reconnect with an old friend that doubles as my current roommate. She gave me the room with the view of the Capitol Building, and that’s just one of those inane things I find myself repeating when someone asks how I like it here.
“It’s great! I can see the Capitol Building from my bed. Seriously, I can lie all the way down and its nipple is still peeping at me.”
As it turns out, not many people are as dazzled by that fact. It reminds me of the time I moved to an apartment I’d never seen before in Chicago all because it was right next door to a prosthetic leg factory.
I was finally able to bring my cat home, too, and will admit that I pulled a Britney riding a few hours with him in my lap.