Where Particulars Are Discussed.

Get home from the job and a note on my door tells me that the building is in receivership. Try as I might I can not isolate the moment in time when they told me about this last month when I signed my lease. I read over the simple little documents. Some hairy brute is telling me to do this and that, send my rents here, send a copy of my lease there, call someone I've never heard of for maintenance well I never.

Everything was skipping along so effortlessly I refuse to acknowledge this as anything of consequence. Some paper pushing obviously. Have to touch that machine with the buttons I don't understand. 'Send' what where exactly? Certainly nothing that can disrupt the joyous trajectory I've been grooving on lately.

Apart from my maddeningly hard to find barber and this sofa I just can't seem to unload its all good. Bess of Hardwick biography, new Free City Swami slippers, baseball season about to start, hair sorta looks cute longer anyway, exercised a modicum of restraint and only downloaded the one Black Eyed Peas song I knew I liked so its not like the time I downloaded an entire Devotchka album, flawless bliss there, new Big Bang Theory, those high-tops I want are in my size so I have no one to blame about that but myself, I can while away what seems to be hours playing missile command on my iPhone, learned to post pics on Twitter which is starting to make Facebook seem more and more bloated. Thick. Blurry detail that's hard to hide from.

Destinations Far Too Distant.

I grab a slice of pizza and head back to the office kitchen. It slays me to pieces just to hang out in there. I take a table away from the angry paralegals. They're discussing something. Once I have pizza slice, iPhone, and book organized in their natural places I am able to concentrate in on the discussion.

Who would throw out a perfectly decent bag of food indeed? They must be discussing the Friday evening refrigerator purge. A can of soup? A perfectly good can of soup? Yeah it was in the enormous bag. Now I really start to focus as I eat/read to see if I can figure out who the space pig is that parks a bag of provisions in the office fridge every week. Cow.

Think I'm almost close when everything goes blurry and in the corner of my eye I see Derek on GQ and I get a little flushed. The article was so bad and it's just sitting there like some discarded issue of Parenting. Like whoever reads a magazine called "Parenting" probably didn't wait for it to hit newsstands to get going. I'm resolved. I can't possibly abscond with the offending rag in front of these angry pigs, but first thing this morning. While everyone else is still sleeping. That copy of that wretched magazine with the amazingly adorable pictures of Derek notwithstanding will not be hurting anyone ever again.

A Little Early Wouldn't You Say?

So I don't really have an iPhone 4 at the moment. I was hoping to wait til my contract with AT&T expired so I could skip to Verizon somewhat penalty-less. The whole AT&T not really offering anything more than edge network in downtown LA really has me down. The signs they put up everywhere are colorful, and profess to have the answer to connectivity or whatever it is, but ad campaigns are so sadly removed from reality.

The Free City iPhone 4 case is a reality, and whether I drop AT&T where they lie and reap the penalties, or wait until October this iPhone case will be waiting. So dope. They come in other designs (this is just the one they twittered about yesterday,)and they are all $35 on the website.

Eyes Closed For A Reason.

Kay. These Comme des Garcons SHIRT contrast pocket tees over at End just have me in a state. Should I or shouldn't I? Not much time left as they are almost sold out, totally sold out in light blue contrast. I've ordered things from End when they were offering free shipping so I know it's a breeze, but I still don't know. Should I or shouldn't I? Moving is so expensive and I did just drop hundreds of pounds on window treatments I've now decided I despise. Shoot. Someone less conflicted will probably score the few remaining of these.

Tormented Messages So Delight

Did what most people do and drove around a lot this weekend. Moved into my new place which was exhausting. I wouldn't say alarmingly so, but I am tending to favor plainspokenness. What one can read these days just astounds.

The driving bit was nothing less than social examination. Bit of precipitation in the SouthLAnd which didn't actually complicate moving in the least. The trip up North to Ikea for a shower curtain and votive candles on the other hand was rich with demented splendor. Is 45 miles an hour on the freeway a bit too much for us? Oh I see it is and we're putting on the breaks. No, no by all means, my fault,, you go first. You have the hunormous vehicle named after a glacier and frosted highlights you go first by all means.

Dropped all my shit walking back to the car because you know Ikea likes making shopping a real pain in the ass for everybody. Green shopping bags when everything in the fucking place comes wrapped in cardboard and plastic WTF? As I'm gathering up the detritus I notice a lurking SUV with a string of cars behind it. I look at the driver and he looks at me knowingly. I ask him whether he's serious and he grins and nods as though he's just clinched the Ass-Hole of the Day Award and in Burbank they give out like 9 of them a day so his smug self-congratulatory air confounds a little.

I slowly make it back to my rented PT Cruiser. Load in my shit and slowly take some breaths, back out of my spot, roll down my window and flip off the douche who has wasted 10 minutes of his life and everyone's life behind him by now opting for the seven open spaces I count as I roll out of that nightmare.

How long can I last before going back?

Maybe The Options Are Numbered.

His name is Olly Barkley. Short for Oliver one imagines. He plays rugby for Bath, digs house music, and just got added to the list. Caught a retweet yesterday and if I'm not getting more and more useful information from Twitter I just don't know what. Bath TV is pretty rad as well. Would do up a link but am remote.

Moving week. Still in shock from the last move. Wondering if it was absolutely necessary to move to the top floor in a building with no elevator. Does one need a set of best china and a set of everyday best china?

Is This Understated Enough For You?

Like the rest of the world I am sitting here in dazed wonderment as to how Derek managed to fit his padonkadock bootie in those Dior jeans on the cover of QQ. Maybe its become more "democratic" since the days of Slimane, but all I can imagine is one thing. Custom.

And even more dizzying than that little mystery is how I manage to be right all the goddamned mother fucking time. GQ is shit. The article is shit. Written by a self professed Red Sox fan who may or may not have written a book I certainly haven't heard of who also happens to be shit. Wrangled a 3 hour conversation with Derek the substantial contents of which are never actually revealed in the article. Just the authors tired allusions to some of his more tricky late night metric-speak three way geek-a-thons. And it goes on and on like that for quite a while. There are even typos! In an article that name-checks itself as a "National Glossy Magazine". Douches all.

If I care next to nothing about what GQ has to say about mens fashion I certainly care even less about what they have say about literature and music. The Strokes have a new album out who knew? Oh that's right! Dumb twats that actually read this sad rag. QQ makes certain airports even more lame.

Formalizing A Relationship.

Despite the pic of Ben the real news today is Derek being on the cover of GQ. Just saw it this morning. Stopped dead in mid-stride. Whirled, not spun but whirled myself about almost knocking over two emaciated creatures in pantsuits in the process. I got myself in that shop and picked me up a copy of that I don't even know what to call it. I mean I never even wipe my nose with that rag even when it's the only alternative Time in the dentist's office, but he just looks so fetching and all in his Prada, Dior, & Ford and I got pretzels thrown into the bargain.

Puts me in a state really. I have it out on my desk so anyone who walks in will have the pleasure. I know what some people will say. I've read it already. But they should beware because regardless of what you may have read in GQ I think the look for spring is going to be wall-to-wall badass and here I've all just gone and decked myself out in it.

All joking aside GQ really is a shit magazine, but they are having a seriously inspired moment. Inspired by what you may wonder...

This Envelope Will Thrive.

This really has to be something. Like the universe is just messing with me. But the idea of Freddy actually landing a spot in the Yankees pitching rotation just leaves me breathless. It's like he was made for it. Certainly has the eek and riyah to pull off pinstripes. And this way it will be like he only played for the Mariners and the Yankees and we can forget all about those dreadful years with the White Sox and Phillies and dare I say Detroit? Maybe, who knows. It seems to be all in the past.

I can't see why it can't work out. I mean it's the Yankees and pitching. Provided Freddy shows up and manages not to bounce the damned ball on his nose like a sea lion it all has to be good.

There Might Be Silence Forever.

So I know I'm about 8 years behind on watching MI-5 but what the hell happened with Tom? There I was tuned into PBS, feeling bad I never donate, in stunned silence. I mean really. I don't know how long I sat there. Something like Globe Treker came on. Madrid looks nice. Bullfighting not so much. I think eating suckling pig does make you a bad person. Like Ortolan you should cover your face. It all just washed over me. Will an MI-5 without Tom be like a Footballers' Wives without Jason? What can I say, but it was nice that it wasn't preempted by American Idol.

Only a matter of time and in anticipation of the 40 hour American Idol pledge drive on PBS I busted out Fawlty Towers and the second half of The Way We Live Now. Really digging the Anthony Trollope lately. Well. Obviously.

For Consumption At Reasonable Hours.

Managed to make it through the better part of the morning without swearing at any household items, but only just. Weekend prefunction aside all is not good. Was doing my ordinary rounds of internetting while at work yesterday when I got a tweet from Ben Cohen about leaving the Sale Sharks. This is so lame I thought, but upon reading further twitterings it seems he is all good with it.

I would certainly hope so. All the tireless work he does for the LGBT community and all that and for them to say "his services are no longer required" I believe is what it said on the website is just wrong. And then those couple of matches recently when he was the only one to score a try. Notwithstanding the controversy and subsequent tweetings surrounding the most recent try.

Too much. Just too much to do without feeling down about this. I have an old Noel Coward movie I am trying to watch to take my mind away. Away to World War II I guess. There is something about trying to like old movies which is kind of like trying to rock Dickies. Classic and serviceable and all, but they just make it so much better nowadays. I can't believe my spellcheck recognizes "nowadays" and not "twitterings".

Hearing About Violent Uprisings.

Free City life can be so tarsome. It is always the overly encumbered and massive ones I end up stuck behind or even around. Standing in line at the coffee shop I was stunned when some lady in a sad approximation of a mackintosh brushed against me whilst fiddling with her massive trolley she was lugging behind her. I eyed her icily up and down and went back to concentrating on the Jesus phone.

So she does it again and this time makes a point of saying "excuse me". I was breathless, anxious to get to work which is odd. Nothing much else but I have the misfortune of walking out in front of her so I decide to hold the door for the actively intrusive yet selectively courteous one. Thanks yous and your welcomes are exchanged and I try to walk to work when this lady just zig zags in front of me not knowing which way is left or right or where she needs to be until I hold my arms out in exasperation.

I mean really. Just all trying to get to work here and this frosted haired thing with a trolley cart is having some sort of fit in front of me. I take a deep breath and then she apparently realizes she needs to walk in the opposite direction entirely. I just shake my head and walk on and wonder if it would be too country to rock my new Purdey hip flask in the city. Cause sometimes I think it might really help.

Such An Example Of Hope.

Soon I need to make a concerted effort to buy something that is not navy blue. I'm not even itching for baseball that much and this week I've already gone through two knit jumpers and one hoodie. All navy blue. What gives? No idea how so many of my standbys end up in such a pedestrian color. Although in my defense it has been absolutely glacial here so everything I wear has to be paired with either a gray or a brown scarf. Musn't get to fancy with the scarves. Makes things tricky.

American Idol continues in its tireless and unmatched struggle to destroy my life. So fraught with import is tomorrow's episode that it pushes back Bones a week or in other words forever.

Finally told my dodgy landlady that I'll be skipping at the end of the month and she had the temerity to ask me why. I tried to be polite and stuff and told her something about it being too small and the rest of my life being in a storage unit and it sorta not being convenient and all, but she wanted more. Which kind of puts me on the spot, and I'm just tearing myself up inside trying to think of what Dolly Parton would say in this situation.