For my latest relocation, I opted out on getting a U-Haul. Instead, I had my sister come one weekend and help me move all my big stuff with her truck (bed, bed frame, 100 gallon fish tank). And over the course of the last couple weeks I’ve been making stops to Long Beach after late work nights, loading up my little hatchback with as much crap as I could, and then unloading at the new place in LA.

Yeah. I’m a little exhausted.

On one of the late night trips, I unloaded everything from my car into the gated parking area in the back of my building. I grabbed a handful of stuff and ran it up to my apartment. I quickly changed out of my work clothes and ran downstairs to get this stack of crap:

Except … it wasn’t there.

What. The. Fuck? Who would want this stuff? Seriously.

Ok, I could understand the Nerf gun. Who wouldn’t want that?

And maybe even the noodles and the shower curtain. And the clothes.

But the 19″ old school tv? Everyone has flat screens now, and they’re usually bigger than 19″.

I peeked outside the gate. No one. I went to the front door, and it was empty. I asked the security guard if he saw anyone hauling blue totes and he pointed to a guy coming out of the elevator.

“Hey, did you grab a stack of blue totes that were outside?”

“Yeah, those are ours.”

“Uh, no they’re not. That’s my stuff.”

He looked at me with a blank look.

“Look, man. It was 4 things of clothes, a tv, a shower curtain. There was also a dvd player, dvds, a vcr …”

“Uh … well, I don’t know my sister’s number, but if you want to come up with me to her apartment …”

It turns out that this dude’s sister was moving in and she had him and some other guys helping her haul her shit. They assumed my things were hers and took it up.

Good news is I retrieved all my crap. The better news is that she lives on the same floor as me and had 3 guys with her … which means that I got those 3 guys to haul my shit to my apartment on the other side of the floor.

Sweet. Less muscle-work for me.

Good thing he cooperated. I was ready to cut someone over my “antique” television. And my Nerf gun.

It’s the fact that I can no longer handle hangovers like a champion. Even when I only drink a little bit, it causes me to feel disgusting the next morning.

Mostly, everything makes me gag. Water. My breath. My own saliva. And then I focus on that nauseous feeling until I need to puke … which is the aboslute worst feeling in the world!

How do I normally remedy this? Lots of grub followed by food comas.

Sleep fixes everything.

Except when it’s sexy time. In which case, sleep only gets you in trouble and nookie-less.

This would all be fine if I didn’t have anything to do the next day.The problem is that lately I have shit to do every day. Nasty, disgusting, nauseous feeling does not equate to a productive day for me.

Although my alcohol tolerance has suffered greatly due to the chaos that is currently my life, it doesn’t mean that I’ve given up on it completely.

C’mon. I love beer too much. Especially Hefeweizen. MMMmmmmMmMmmm ….. Hefeweizen.

After things in my life settle down a bit, then I’ll rekindle my love for all things beer.

Oh, and I just remembered that I’m going to a Chargers game on Sunday with a friend for her birthday.

Football = Tailgaiting = Beer Reunion

Hey. It’s day drinking. It doesn’t count.