Sig Heil Best Buy...

Alright, so I admit it. I've been a lazy ass this week with the blog; but to my defense, or at least to come up with an excuse, I've been working more hours then a small child making soccer balls in a hut in South America.

I have been a working fool. Sixteen hours in my metropark palace on sunday, getting home at 12:15, and going back there at 7:45am was not fun. I should of just slept under the desk in our office, at least I would of saved gas. Well, at least it was busy so my hours flew by.

Other than dealing with drunk boaters, and escorting gaggles of lazy people with barbeques and coolers around, I was the personal chauffer for a genuine movie crew, shooting a new blockbuster film...at least in India. Not hailing from the great movie laced city of Hollywood, these yahoos hailed from Bollywood, the Indian equvilent of our great Californian movie empire; except most of these movies are weird "romantic-comedy" musicals in which the actors dance and twirl around singing indian songs. I swear to god, after how much I had to do for them, I am demanding to be noted as a "key grip" or "gaffer" or something in the credits. I'm gonna be HUGE in India, I can feel it.

Next, and completely off the subject of dancing Indians, Best Buy is run by a bunch of Nazi assholes. So, back around father's day, I bought my dad some fancy-shmancy remote control that can control the tv, dvd, cable box, and even do my laundry or something, but after reading about it online, I decided to get him a different remote and return this one to Best Buy at a later date.

So after a little laziness and some final gumption, I braced to return the remote today to a) Hopefully get my money back, or at least 2) Get some in-store credit. Those rat bastards at best buy wouldn't even consider taking it back because it had been more than "30 days". They wouldn't take it back, even with the recipt. So I asked them, what if it was a gift and I didn't have the recipt...basically they said, in a round-a-bout way, tough shit, they aren't gonna take it back. What kind of fucking return policy is that? I could understand if I opened the package, or didn't have the recipt, but seriously folks...fuck them. This is bullshit. Now I'm stuck with a remote that I don't need and am $90 in the hole. We'll see when I give them anymore business.

Well, hopefully, now that my sweatshop hours have slowed down, and finally I'm becoming somewhat settled in my new house, I'll update this a little more often. Until next time...later.

My Moving Hell...

Lately, my creative juices have been on hold while I moved out of my pit of an apartment and into my new digs. I now realize that I NEVER want to move again. Holy crap, has this sucked; and this is only half of what has to be moved! Jenny's vast cornucopia of random objects still needs to be packed and hauled over here. This is going to blow harder than Tropical Storm Edna. I never realized how much shit I owned until now. I think I need to start just throwing things away.

Box, after basket, after bag each needs to find a home in our new abode; and not just any place, but somewhere that will fall into Jenny's master plans! Haha, just kidding.

Yesterday, a bribe of coney island convinced my cousin Butch, Jenny, and another guy I know named Erine to come to my apartment and move things, pack mule style, from the rooms of the apartment, down the stairs of death, and finally into two pick-ups, to be moved 5 miles, all the while sweating like pigs. Thank god for bribes.

Thankfully, Erine has some experience at this whole moving thing, working for a moving company and all, because the damn couch that took my brother and I hours to fit into our living room, was easily removed in a matter of minutes. I belive this proves to me that the Smitka family does not have great ability in thinking spacially.

So, after moving all the big crap, I stupidly sent my bribed help home and return to the house thinking that I only have a little bit left to go. I should never of opened my mouth. Hours later, Jenny and I are slaving to clean and pack the remains of my former residence, working into the wee hours of the evening. After calling it quits for the night, we decide to come back the next day for day two of the Ferndale Clean-A-Thon.

After work, and even two more hours later of cleaning, I wipe down the last countertop, and say my good-byes to the creepy ladies downstairs. Good bye Ferndale, good bye walking up the stairs of death, good bye living in filth, I will miss you all (or maybe not).

Anyway, after two days of moving hell, and many upcoming days of putting all this shit away, I'm finally here; away from the botomless pit that was my Ferndale flat, and into my deee-lux casa in Royal Oak. Home-ownership, here I come...