I woke up the other day, still unable to talk. I feared the worst as I went to a few bars and then finally found my way to the Boiler Room downtown for Karaoke. I never did sing, BUT, the whole night of drinking and smoking and trying to talk without a voice made me suspect I would never again be able to talk.
But, here comes Monday morning. I wake up, groggy and coughing, usual deathbed stuff of the last week and a half. Lo and behold, though, as I am yelling at my cat for doing something annoying... I can speak?
Like the Simpsons episode of old, where they put on a musical of Planet of the Apes, I found myself saying, "He can talk! He can talk! I can SIIIIIIIING!" Yes, windows shattered, and neighbors called the police, but what did I care, I was back to making smartass comments.
So hurrah for me. Work blew donkey balls, however. Not a damn thing to do except try to look busy. Well, I can't say that truthfully, I was working hard at work to convert to the new religion of Domo Kun!
Slowly the disease has spread and my co-workers and I are now loyal servants to the Domo Kun. It was decided Friday, that Domo Kun was in fact the one responsible for defeating Mothra, not Godzilla. Furthermore, he snacks on kittens like Jabba the Hutt on those toad things. Yes, this is what we talk about, and yes we are insane. Also, there's a gas leak in the building I think.
So wrapping this puppy up, I put in my application for my townhouse on Wednesday night. Was kinda expecting to hear back by Friday, but should know all is well and when I'll be able to move in on Monday. I'm shooting for Wednesday so it's shaping up to be a busy week with more packing to be done, utilities to get moved over, mail to get forwarded, addresses to be updated, and finally moving to be done.
Place is friggin sweet, 1350 square feet, and a lot of character. Should be fun spending the next 6 months to a year decorating it with Domo Kun.
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