We moved this weekend.

Those of you who know me well are probably thinking, "What, you moved off the couch to get another beer?" To which I reply, HAR! HARDY HAR HAR! Jerks.

No, HW and I and many of my semi-retarded friends gathered up most of my belongings and moved them from our old home to our new home with a miraculous minimum of injury to body and furniture. Well, except for Kyle, who may not be able to reproduce, depending on how well the doctors are able to reconstruct his genitals. Sorry about that, Kyrone!

Anyway, I went and picked up a 26 foot U-Haul truck on Saturday morning at 8 am. It was a manual transmission, which was kinda fun, although the gear pattern was apparently designed by a committee of blind Mongolian horse breeders, each of whom had as much experience with automobiles as I have with gynecology. Also, the truck had a tendency to not want to go into reverse, which caused the fiberglass hood to come to grief against a tree. (I was trying to back up, and the truck just kept rolling forward, and CRUNCH.) I even managed to back it into our small driveway, because I'm the bomb, and had 11 people standing around yelling "Okay, cut it right! No, RIGHT! That's left, you idiot! Wait . . . okay, back it up . . . keep coming . . . now stop. Stop. HEY! STOP! WHOA! WHOA! Great, you ran over Brian. Does anybody have some duct tape so we can reattach his legs?"

Loading went largely without a hitch, except for dropping a piano on somebody's foot, and much arguing about the proper way to fill the truck with my possessions. Craig came up with the idea that every time somebody came up with a good idea, we should all take a sip of beer; after a bit, someone realized that drinking beer was in-and-of-itself a very good idea, but luckily the vicious cycle of shotgunning Miller ended when we ran out.

We drove over to the new place without incident, except for the fact that the clutch on that beast was a bit frisky, so I'd usually end up lurching the hell out of it. I'm glad we put the good TV on the floor, else it would have been greatly shattered. We even managed to unload most of the stuff without all that much effort, except for the piano.

Ah, the piano. Many hundred pounds of wood and metal. I had borrowed some piano dollies from my good friend Kinné, but they turned out to be only moderately helpful, mainly because they were old and a bit fragile. In the end, we just took them off and lifted the heavy sumbitch, down the truck's ramp, onto the porch, into the house (thank God for our double front doors), and up 5 steps.

I wanted to try and do it one step at a time, but once we got our momentum going we just said "GO! GO! GO!" and managed to haul the thing all the way up and slide it into the corner. Good times. Except for the extremely painful hernias suffered by all 6 of us who lifted it.

After that, all we had to do was eat pizza, drink beer, and contemplate how many 7-11s I'll have to rob every month to afford our $1500+ mortgage payment.