|
|
*ding*
In this corner, we have a fifth-floor walkup in the West Village, a fourth-floor walkup in Hell's Kitchen, and three major articles of furniture, four suitcases and a dozen or so large boxes that must be moved between them in one day.
In this corner, we have a small, whiny gay man with hypergraphia.
Place your bets, folks. Or drop by to douse my inert body with cold water. (I won't enjoy it too much, I promise.) Or just point and laugh.
Since I haven't had enough abuse at the hands of the housing gods, this Wednesday we shall visit a place called Punch. I'm hearing it has inventive cocktails and interesting fusion food, and no severed ears, loosened teeth or bleeding from the face whatsover. And from the "kicking me while I'm down" department, it happens to be exactly one block east of that nameless hell-hole that fired me just about eleven months ago. (But I'm not bitter, am I?)
*dong*
-Mike, TK, Kris, Jay, Petro, and ADRIANNNNNN!