Shopping would be easier without long arms, though the whole getting-stuff-off-of-high-shelves thing never gets old.
Two pair black pants, check.
One pair black boots, check.
Two pair black socks, check.
One black jacket, check.
Three hundred dollars personal burial money, check.
I am Jack’s overstuffed suitcase.
I hate packing, especially because the time I’m going – 6 months – is an ambiguous amount of time, somewhere stuck between a short trip and a full move. I want to settle in, yet remain mobile. Prepared, but potentially nomadic. Then again, I’m sure that it won’t be the easiest thing to find clothes in my size, so I’m resigning to bring more than I probably would have liked to otherwise.
Tomorrow’s going to be a hell of a day, with several rounds of errands, followed by some lovely wine tasting, burger-eating and bachelor-partying, ending with hopefully crashing on somebody’s floor.
In the meantime, it seems I completely missed a disk of Veronica Mars and skipped straight to the finale, and didn’t notice… not sure what that says about me or the show.
In other news, you need to check out this cover of Elton John’s Rocketman, featured on the “Classifieds” episode of This American Life. They found several musicians advertising in a single day’s Chicago Sun-Times, hooked them up, and this song is the result.
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note: The beginning of this post was a reference to Fight Club, a popular book and movie from the late 1990s. Please don’t take it seriously.
I love Veronica Mars; one of the most underrated shows in recent memory, besides the hordes of other cult classics (here’s looking at you, Arrested Development). And I listened that This American Life episode too. That cover is almost better than Elton’s. I wanted to bawl my eyes out when the dad was talking about how his kids thought he was lonely and needed a dog. Cutest shit of my life.