Here is Your Update, My Good People

It's been a while…I know some of you are starved for details. Some of you might be just idly curious. Some of you may not have heard we've moved to Los Angeles (well, we have). Finally, some of you don't even know who I am, or why I keep sending you advertisements for ringtones (sorry about those…but seriously, just check them out – they are pretty great deals. I mean, 49 cents? That's unbelievable!!!).

But for the "starved" or "curious" ones, I'll ladle out a healthy portion of "What's Up" soup. Hell, I might just include a hearty handful of "What's on Deck" to go with that ("I don't know – THIRD BASE!").

So, here's the skinny. First up, there was a little unfortunately nasty business with our landlord (or, more to the point, his assistant), regarding our departure time. We had thought it would be good to leave on January 4^th. We told them this at the beginning of December, and there were no problems with it at all…until the evening of December 31^st, when they called us in Idaho to let us know we had to vacate our place by January 2^nd. Of course, our apartment was not packed or cleaned, and all of our moving reservations were set on January 4^th. Needless to say, there was much gnashing of teeth, and rending of garments…before we finally settled on an uneasy truce.

Now, maybe it was my wonderfully optimistic (read: naïve), rose-colored outlook, but I had thought the move down was going to be a snap…maybe two snaps…maybe, if we were terribly unlucky, it'd be three snaps up. However, this move was not a snap, but rather a steady series of punches to the testicles…spaced about 2 minutes apart…for an entire week.

First off, I got sick. That happened around midnight of December 31^st (HAPPY NEW YEARZ!!!!). This sick wasn't the cute little sick that grandma knitted for you on the porch in late April. This was the kind of sick that boxes your ears, and makes your head ESPLODE!

And does so for two full weeks (I'm still sick now). And all the DayQuil and NyQuil in the world (and I feel like I ingested just that much) will only make you barely functional.

This means that I got to pack the house, load a small truck (up and down 4 flights of stairs), unload a truck, load larger truck (that's a whole 'nother blog entry), then load the large truck some more, spend 3 days driving down a snow/rain slicked I-5 corridor, unload the large truck (up and down 4 damn flights of stairs…again…no stairs at the next place; mark my word) while steadily coughing up most of my lungs through my throbbing throat, and dribbling out most of my brain matter through my chafed nostrils and into a waiting Kleenex. Sorry if that description was gross…but I wanted to give all of you fine people an inkling of the hell that has been the last two weeks.

Luckily for me I have an awesome wife, two awesome roommates, and a rotating cast of awesome friends and family who helped at every step of the way. To those of you who took time out of your day to help us, holy crap, thank you for the depths of my soul…and I'm sorry if I accidentally got any of you sick. Helping people move is analogous (in my mind) to providing an alibi to a friend who was recently brought up on murder charges. Anyone who does either of those things is a-ok in my book. Thanks, especially, to you ..>Mr. Dennie…who helped us two nights in a row. You're a saint, my friend…and one of the good ones.

Long story short (too late!!! HA HA!!! Get it!!?? Because I've already been talking for a while…and for me to say…um…), we're here now. We made it, and the house is almost completely unpacked/assorted/decorated/stored away. Where, you may ask? Good question! Here's a shiny blue star that you earned for asking such a good leading question! Well, it's in Silver Lake, and (according to Wikipedia) it's the home of many musicians and homosexuals. Though, I don't believe he was either one of those thing, our apartment (at one time or another) was the home to this guy:

And this guy:

(he'd be the one on the left)

And this guy:

And, if he was here, she was here too:

But, best of all…currently, this guy lives below us:

Now, he's not actually a homeless guy, he just plays one on TV. Here's what the handsome devil actually looks like:

Of course, I don't know if any of you watch The Wire (if you don't you should...because it's fantastic), but he's a cast member on that show. Like, a real, bona fide, honest-to-god working actor, living right below us with his wife and kid. It's pretty cool. If he ever gets big (he loaned us the first season of The Wire…and I must say, he's actually very, very good…so I think it's quite possible), then I can sell some seedy stories to the Enquirer for serious cash. Like…for example…he listens to some kind of hip-hop music! And he plays it LOUD! And…um…he's really into Asians (he even MARRIED ONE!). And he owns golf clubs! GOLF CLUBS!!! Oh boy…that payday is going to be sweeeeet…

As for us? Well…we don't have any internet connection (we're "borrowing" a signal temporarily) or television until the 21^st. We've all decided to take this first week (we arrived on the 8^th) to just acclimate ourselves to this wacky city, and get our house in order. But starting on Monday, we're going to start doing what we came here to do – try to make money from acting before we all go broke. That's the plan, anyway…we'll see how that turns out. Wish us broken legs…but not real broken legs, because we have no health insurance. I'm talking about the wacky broken legs that you wish upon people who pretend to be other people for money. Mmmmmm…