Adjusting

We've been moving things out, slowly. It hasn't sunk in completely yet. I'm living at Jo-anne's my old manager from Applebees aka my third mother. Which I am ever thankful for.

The hardest part of this is not seeing Jes daily to talk and catch up on the day or playing with that baby and making him laugh.

I wasn't ready to say good bye to both of them yet. And here we are. And it fucking sucks. :(

Edit: No one died, mind you. We're just not living together so I can't see them every day and it makes me sad.

Holy shit! My apartment is on Fire!

Last night I was sitting in my room minding my own business when Jes knocked on my door. "Do you smell that?" she asked me before both of us wandered around the living room sniffing, out in the hallways sniffing and finally towards her room.
She went in her room to check on the baby and opened up her closet door, then her bathroom door and smoke poured out.
She moved things away from the heater thinking her bathmat had caught fire but when everything was ok she looked at me, "Fire. We gotta get out."

I Scooped up the the baby, his blanket and stopped in my room to get my Cell phone, Jacket and purse. I ran outside, wrapping the baby in his blanket and my coat. Dressed in basketball shorts, t-shirt and barefoot I wondered just how bad it was going to get.

Jes ran back in 2-3 times to get the diaper bag, cigarettes for both of us and most importantly- shoes for me. We stood there, watching the fire trucks arrive; wondering if we were going to have anything at the end of the night.

It took 6 hours before we were able to get to our parent's houses. 6 hours of watching them tromp around our apartment. 6 hours of tears, laughter and hugs. They had knocked her window out, and cut holes in our ceiling. (We have skylights now.) After it was all over they let us inside to get some things and even though there was no power I could see how damaged and destroyed everything was.

My belongings are pretty much fine since my bedroom was in the back of the building. Jes' bathroom and closet were right next to the fire. Neither of us have Bathrooms at the moment, her closet was gutted and you can see the studs of the building.

I was lucky, and because of that we can rebuild. We can buy new things. What is important is everyone got out safe, even our fish; Cookie. I spent the night at my moms house and even after a large captain and diet (Yes I saved that from the apartment) I still couldn't stop shaking.

It's sunk in a bit more today, but it probably wont be horrifying until I go back there to gather more of my things.

Oh yeah. It was a GREAT Monday.

An Ode to David

It's not so much a poem.
As sentences with spaces.
The first time I spoke to you,
I was late for work.
Your hair astounded me.
I questioned your sexuality.
You wanted to hit this,
But I wanted the loser nerd from next door.
Bad choice on my part, yes?
But better because if you broke up with me,
I'd have killed you.
Show tunes and curly fries,
Wee hours of the morning.
Dancing, Singing and laughing.
This poem sucks.
But I'll keep going.
It reminds me of you.
The suckiness.
And the fact that it's about you.

We were drunk.
You came out.
I wasn't surprised.
Patti cried.
"Shhh. SHHHH."
Drunk comforting is not my forte.
You are not a ninja.
I love you anyway.
Pasta sauce and a bag of pepper.
Delicious yet it burns.

You got me high, we laughed.
I ate a salami, Chocolate chip cookie and salsa sandwich.
I win at being high.
Naked in pools.
Drunk nights.
Mafia. Myspace. Facebook.
Welcome to my world.

"Show me your scrotum"
They thought it was me.
Laughter. Pwnful. Win.

The men are all ugly,
Come here Gay boy,
lets make out in a closet.
It's like 2 years ago all over again.

French fries. Burgers.
Milkshakes. Other foods.
You ever realize we eat a lot?
This poem is really long.
Its not even a poem.
Its like a lazy blog.
Dedicated to you.
Sorry Readers.
You're welcome Poodle.

Speaking of...
You'll always be my Poodle.
And I'll always be your Pookie.
And I promise when you come to England
We'll be drunk and obnoxious
and I'll make you cook for me.
bring your spring form pan.
BITCH.

LOVE YOU.