Moving is the most terrible thing on earth. The end result is magnificent, but the whole process is like someone running up and kicking you in the shin and then hitting your coffee out of your hand. And then when you are upset about the coffee being spilled, them telling you that, "Santa Claus DID EXIST BUT NOW HE DOESN'T BECAUSE YOU NEVER BELIEVED SO HE DIED." And after they yell that, you are crying and your back hurts because you didn't lift the fucking dresser with your knees. (LACES OUT, DAN.) That's what moving is like.
The funny thing is, however, that there is a lot of hilarity that comes out of it. I mean, what IS all this crap that you own? You start finding things that not only do not make sense, you're not sure you even how you acquired them. More importantly, you wonder how, in about four other moves, you had decided that this...yes, I need this. This must come with me wherever I go. Seeing as I've never used this item, nor do I ever plan to, I should definitely take this with me on my life quest. Below are the items I found, and other discoveries I have made in my month of moving hell. If applicable, I have noted my solution to the item.
I found two pairs of shoes that are size 9. I am a size 11. (ladies?)
To say this is peculiar is an understatement. Did I believe that, at some point, my feet would shrink, and should this occur it would not make sense for me to buy a pair of shoes at said time to accommodate this "that's not possible" moment? What this means is that I have taken with me, probably since I LIVED AT HOME AT THE AGE OF 16 OR SOME WEIRD AGE LIKE THAT, two pairs (not one! two pairs!) of shoes that do not fit me, nor will they ever. Really, me? Maybe I should start buying baby clothes just in case I ever find a time machine or a magical mischevious elixir that ages me in reverse. If anyone is in the market for a pair of size 9 Nike's, make sure to ask me before you go to Foot Locker.
I own far too many DVD's that I do not watch, and I own far too many copies of the film Bring It On, which is one copy.
Turns out you can rent movies. Turns out I was a stoner in college, and felt a need to buy any film I ever enjoyed. Ever. Titles include, but are not limited to:
- Bring It On
- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1 & 2)
- Jurassic Park 3 (not 1, not 2...Jurassic Park 3.)
- A Beautiful Mind (I hate Russell Crowe, and more importantly have never seen this film and have no idea how I own it. Thanks, Marijuana!)
- Two copies of the film Hook.
I'm so confused as to half of these acquisitions and am more curious than ever at the powers of marijuana. If I were a credit card company, I'd sit in the quad of every college campus with a kiosk that has a bong, an application and a free copy of the film Fantasia 2000 for anyone who applies. I'm already searching for this job on Craigslist as we speak.
I found 4 swiss army knives.
Apparently, if I'm ever stranded on a desert island, I'm banking on three swiss army knives inevitably failing, in which case I will have my trusty fourth one on me. Hopefully I will have brought my copy of Bring It On with me in this situation, as well. I'm guessing I will have broken the first three knives frantically trying to open the copy of this movie, though, so it all makes sense. THANK GOD I THOUGHT AHEAD.
I found a life size replica Star Wars light saber that makes sounds when you swing it.
Sidenote: I don't have a girlfriend.
Other sidenote: this item was not thrown away or donated and is still in my car until I can figure out what to do with it.
I found that I own 28 glasses and 15 plates.
Luckily, I took them all with me (keep an eye on the tv show Hoarders, folks, pretty sure my episode is coming up). So just in case I ever go on a hydrating binge, I'll be able to pound glass after glass of liquid and still have about 20 glasses left. If at this point I want to eat 15 different items of food on 15 different plates, I have that option as well. Of note: I own triscuits, apples, almonds and hot sauce. So I'm pretty sure one plate or less would have covered it. If I ever plan on having a dinner party in my -2,476 sq ft apartment though...boy, am I covered for a dinner and then some.
I own 6 pairs of wool ski socks and have gone skiing -13 times in the past "ever plus infinity."
Don't worry, I donated 3 pairs, and decided in some arbitrary manner that three would in fact be the number of pairs of wool ski socks I'll need while living at this new apartment.
Basically, moving to this apartment has made me call into question more than 90% of the shit I own. But the most important find was this...
I own(ed) a T-Rex Headlamp.
Don't believe that someone would create such an item? Exhibit A:
Yeah, shit just got real. I OWNED THIS.
Every year for Christmas, my mother buys me ridiculous stuff. It's adorable and I love her for it. But I just don't know what to do with a dinosaur headlamp, as I'm pretty sure owning this is a deterrent in the "no seriously, I'm 28 and a viable option for mating with" department. At any rate, I of course kept this.
My new apartment is amazing, and it's most amazing feature so far is the small Mexican kid that lives down the hall. So far, our interactions have been him staring at me, me yelling "Hola!", followed by him throwing action figures at me. So I've been taking his subtle hints that maybe he's not crazy about the quirky Jewish gringo moving in down the hall.
So the lightbulb goes on.
In what I imagine to be training for actually being a father someday, I realized the one way I could get this kid to like me: I would bribe him with eccentric goods that his mother would be REALLY pissed off that I gave him in order to make him think that I'm the good guy.
One night, I walked down and placed the headlamp outside of his door. Like Christmas morning, I waited by my door to listen for when he found it, like baiting a mouse or something and waiting for the trap to snap. Sure enough, about three minutes later, I hear the door open, and I immediately hear the immense roars of a T-Rex coming from what I now assume to be his head. Victory.
In doing this, I imagine I've pissed off the grownups he lives with, but what's important is that I have made peace with him and will no longer have action figures thrown at me in the hallway. It's the small victories in life.
Moving to a new area is funny. You aren't yourself for a while. It's like being a freshman in college again. People laugh when you kind of don't get your commute yet and get on the wrong train. Or when you move to the mission, it's basically like trying to sit at the cool table when you've been playing dungeons and dragons in the corner for like 4 years. No one wants to talk to you, you're like the mouth breather who wore sweat pants to homeroom.
So moving crap like this is why Rocket Shoes has been MIA for a good while. I have been basically trying to figure out my life in my first big boy solo apartment, and it's probably taken me a good month to figure out where to put things like dinosaur headlamps. Don't you worry, I'll get back to writing petty "shit white guys complain about but it's funny because it's ironic and it's like I'm talking to him!" rants. I missed you, too.
So Hola, small Mexican children. Stop throwing your action figures at me for not writing. I'm back.
Stream the whole thing right there.