My Marriage In Post It Notes #6 - Walden Fucking Pond


This does not include the new bed purchased upon moving out to Los Angles, or the second-hand coffee table, second-hand futon, second-hand computer desk, kitchen table & chairs left by prior tennant, and hand-built TV stand for our symbol of the American Dream - a bigass flat screen TV. (I'd like to point out that we don't have cable. We're might as well be living in a shack in Walden Fucking Pond as far as not being defined by our material posessions. Or maybe we just own a lot of old junk. I mean, I wouldn't turn down a Harley V-Rod if someone left it in our parking space, and when you are living in apartments indefinately, what's the point of settling in, particularly when the upstairs neighbors just might be crazy in the stabby sense of the word, and anything you buy you have to move, and it's not like we're home much anyway, and doesn't it make more sense to save money for a house rather than buy stuff to fill up a shabby 1000 sq ft apartment in West Los Angeles? Right? I mean, Right?)