So I am recovering from Friday's big move at my new favorite neighborhood haunt. Gentle music and mellow friendly peeps tending to the coffee bar greeting me as I dragged myself in this afternoon. August 12th was quite possibly the longest day of mine and MPP's collective lives.
The day began by the movers arriving promptly at 9:30 a.m. to begin the beguine with MPP. Oh sure, the scheduler quoted MPP a price for the move. However, according to the mover's records MPP had forgotten three large chairs. We would now incur an additional charge. I suppose it's possible he actually over looked them as he walked through his apartment naming off each piece of furniture. After all, they only take up the whole damned living room. Easy to miss. I resisted the urge to slip in to Mommie Dearest mode: Don't FUCK with us fellas...we've ridden this rodeo before!
The piece de resistance was the fact that the movers could not fit all of MPP's furniture on to the truck. Additionally, they still had to go to 805 Leavenworth for my things. I discovered Friday just how intolerant I am of dumb. They arrived to move two households with what MPP's father would later refer to as "little more than a bread truck", and seemed genuinely surprised when they had to make multiple trips.
Once we finally did arrive at 805 Leavenworth, the leader of the moving trio thought he might lecture me on the virtues of intelligent packing i.e. "You are suppossed to put books in small boxes". I simply raised my eyebrow as an accessory to my irritation, and in that down home southern way of mine- became so cordial I was hostile. When he got that I was channeling winds from Antartica, he let me know "it was all good". I was almost certain it would be. What is it with that phrase anyway? I've always despised it. IT'S ALLLL GUUUD. It's usually uttered when a situation is undoubtedly NOT all good. Is it meant to be ironic? Well moving on...
At last we were finally on our way to Glen Eden Ave at nearly 7pm, yes kids 7pm. Ken and Eiko's minivan (which had previously been packed in the meticulous manner befitting only a good virgo and/or someone with OCD) now resembled a sidewalk sale in San Francisco's Mission district as MPP and I hurled random items of dual ownership in to the back, trying valiantly to just get the hell out of dodge.
As we approached the freeway a car from a non-existent lane ran along side the ant farm procession of cars trying to get on the freeway. This dumb@ss attempted to dart in aggressively at an angle between us and the car ahead. MPP was having none of it, and apparently neither were any of the drivers. No one was letting this guy in, and so he tried a different tact. He tried being "cute". His front and backseat bimbettes were rolling down their prospective windows and pleading. MPP refused to allow them in, citing that they "knew what they were doing" and that it was rude to pretend. I capped it off by leaning in beside him literally shaking my finger and moving my neck saying, "Shame on you... shame on YOU". I've turned in to my mother.
And speaking of shame on you. Many are probably wondering (assuming many are reading this) what the heck my poem JUDAS was about. Well jellybeans, everyone at one time or another has their own personal Judas. You see, my exodus from San Francisco or as people who should be shot call it Frisco, was not with out event.
It seems MPP and I were pretty much right about my own personal Underminer. We were not initially invited to his spouse's (the Real Martha Stewart) birthday dinner last month. Oprah only knows what other social events never made it to our calendar. Against my better judgement and tarot cards that would have said "don't even think about it" had I read them, we went to Russian River. MPP and I stayed at Fife's which The Underminer had already informed us was inferior to his own lodgings, Highland's... you know where the popular kids were staying for Prom night.
He couldn't help but come over to our place with The Real Martha Stewart and his entorage in tow. We suspect it was simply for the pleasure of ensuring our digs were not as nice as his. To his surprise and discomfort, our dining area was quite charming and so he had insisted on seeing our cabin. He made some big to do's about how cute it was(cuter than his infact), which later proved to be insincere (and for the benefit of the entourage) when we arrived to his clearly far more charming cabin. This of course was not before one of his minions let it slip about the impending trip to the happiest place on Earth. A trip from which MPP and I were to be excluded.
So I have seen enough to know I have seen enough. None of this should come as a surprise seeing as how I have willfully ended my stint as the Underminer's whipping boy. No longer looking to him for validation of my life choices or even asking his opinion, I have cut the thread. It's sad when some dies, even if it was sickly and unhealthy. That's what our over a decade friendship had become- Toxic. And nature has a funny way of breaking that which will not bend. So I surrender it to the higher power, the Universe and EVERYTHING!
