I'm currently in the process of moving across the country to Los Angeles, which would explain my lack of columns in the recent weeks. (Don't fire me, Court!) If you thought regular moving was a pain in the ass, try a 2,000+ mile move. There is so much random crap I've had to do that I didn't even consider initially. At this point I'm just trying to get to my actual move date without having a nervous breakdown.
First, when moving cross country, you have to trick some poor bastard into driving with you. This is helpful in preventing you from being kidnapped, raped, beaten, and left for dead in one of the square states. Surprisingly, it's really not that hard to get someone to do this, you just use the old, "Think of how fun it'll be!" and "We'll get to see so many sights!" In reality, you're going to see a lot of backwoods people, some trees, some desert, and, if you haven't killed each other by the time you hit Texas, an all-you-can-eat barbeque restaurant.
Everyone says they want to see all of America. No, you want to see SOME of America. You know, the parts where the families aren't inbred (I'm looking at you, Kentucky) and/or missing 85% of their teeth (what are you eating, Arkansas?). There's a whole lot of nothing in between the coasts.
Something else I didn't anticipate was having to switch banks. I've been with the same bank since I was 14 years old, but unfortunately they don't have any branches out in California. Have you ever tried to close a bank account before? It's a lot like trying to break up with someone. I tried to do it at the teller's desk—you know, out in public so there wouldn't be a scene—but they ended up making me go into a back office with some guy named Rick, who was slightly overweight and kept calling me "sweetie."
I feel the same way about being turned down by Goodwill as I do about being turned down by a man.For 45 minutes I had to find ways to let him down gently. He asked me what the bank could've done differently. I found myself saying, "It's not you, it's me… well, actually it is you. You don't have any branches where I'm going." Then he tried to talk me into staying and doing all of my banking online. Finally I had to be like, "No means no, Rick." I considered having some Closing Bank Account Sex, but figured ultimately, it would just leave him with the impression that one day I would re-open an account there. And we both knew, deep down, that would be a lie.
Since I'm basically only taking whatever fits into my car, I've also had to get rid of a lot of stuff. So I took my couch and television to Goodwill to donate. They took the couch, but apparently Goodwill is too good for my 1998 Mitsubishi 40-inch TV. I mean, yeah, it weighs approximately the same as a robust Russian woman named Mischa, and the color is going out (imagine my surprise when I finally got a new set for Christmas last year and discovered that the entire cast of Law & Order: SVU is not, in fact, purple), but it still works. And frankly, I don't think Goodwill is in a position to turn down anything.
I mean, the last time I was there, I purchased this entire outfit, including the phone, for five dollars and a handjob:
Although I did learn a valuable lesson: I feel the same way about being turned down by Goodwill as I do about being turned down by a man. I'm not too sure what this says about me.
I'm only a couple of weeks out from my official moving date, but I feel like I've gotten a lot accomplished thus far. One thing I have noticed, when people find out I'm moving to Los Angeles, they almost immediately ask if I'm going out there to be an actress. No. I can't act. The only thing I'm good at faking is an orgasm. Plus, if I wanted an eating disorder and an inferiority complex, I'd re-live high school. I just want to write the scripts for these people. And make enough money so that I can fill up my giant bathtub full of hundred dollar bills and roll around naked in them.
Stay tuned for my journey as I drive across this great country of ours!