Moving sucks.

So, I'm moving to Seattle on Wednesday. I'll be starting a new gig at Publicis West working on the T-Mobile account amongst other things. I'm super excited about the job and the available opportunities for some TV and digital projects. I hate to move. I've owned this 1924 bungalow for 8 years and in that time I've managed to collect a virtual flea market full of useless shit. I rented a dumpster for $400 to purge myself of said useless shit. It has been painful, figuratively and literally. My back looks like that crazy Zelda freak from Pet Cemetary. All knotted up and bent out of shape. I've also reconsidered ever collecting vinyl records or books or artwork again. These are things that definitely define me, but now I'm left wondering what in the sam hell I'm supposed to do with them. I refuse to drag 26 boxes of vinyl records to the West Coast, even if my heart says I should.

While I search the internet looking for an air conditioner for my damp, dank balls, I figured I would leave you with some moving cynicism:

1. Dumpster diving is real: I busted a guy crawling around in my dumpster today. The exchange went a little something like this:

Me: "Hey dumbass, get the fuck out of my dumpster."

Him: "I'm just grabbing some stuff."

Me: "It's trash for a reason sherlock. Are you fucking trying on a pair of my pants?"

Him: "I'll be just a minute."

Me: "GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!"

Here is where I started walking towards the guy with my flamboyantly gay but intimidating looking pit bull in tow. He jumped out of the dumpster and did a fire roll to his shitty K-Mart bike faster than one of those Chinese acrobats. In retrospect, I felt sort of bad. I would have been willing to let him scour through the junk had he asked first. Then again, there are things in that dumpster that nobody should find....(dead hookers).

2. Enlist the help of buddies: This is important, without the help of Nussbaum, Jake, Waldron, Peezy, and Stan I would be royally screwed. It also helps with the anxiety of the move to have a few dudes around to shoot the shit with while you're throwing away your life.

3. Ice cold beer of the shitty variety: I don't know what it is, but ice cold Coors Light goes down like natural spring water from the Island of Awesomeboner when you're moving.

4. Don't make a ton of plans to get wasted: moving while hungover might be the worst thing on earth. I literally fell over today while attempting to lift a particularly heavy duty box of books. I just sat on the floor in my own filth and issued a stream of curse words into the thin air. Damn you Jim Beam!

5. Resist the temptation to throw away your bed 6 days before the big move: sleeping on the couch with Zelda back is the worst. It also ruins any opportunity for goodbye sex from old girlfriends and the chicks that never gave you the time of day until a week before the move.