Long weekends are the titties.

I took Elizabeth to a Lebanese place for dinner on Friday. We drive by when I drop her off at the art studio she's spending time at. The name and decor are not indicative of Lebanese food but it's a really neat looking place and E is a sucker for anything with the suffix -noush, -mous, or -ouli. Patchouli being the only exception.

So it turns out I, the pickiest eater on the planet, can be quite happy at a place like this. I love the rice with the vermicilli mixed in and they love making kabobs of meat. It's right up my veggie-hating alley, actually. E gets all sorts of pastes and sauces and non-meats. She loves it, which is why I'm game to bring her to places that generally aren't high on my restaurant priority list.

We also had Lebanese wine. It was a tasty blend of Cab, Cinsault, Mourvedre, and Grenache.



Saturday she was getting her hair done early and we were heading to have dinner at a friend's place later. In between we made Elizabeth's Ice Box Cake. It's so good that I ate it for breakfast the last time she made it. Basically you make some homemade whipped cream and use it like spackle to smush chocolate wafers together in a circle. They should be on their sides like a slinky formed into a circle. Lots of delicious cream in between each cookie. Then you use the rest of the cream to completely cover the cookies. Voila! You've got a kickass dessert that tastes like the best oreo you've ever had. It's light too, so you fatties can get more down.

Sunday we went to the zoo. It's something she hadn't done since being a kid and I had only done once since I was too young to remember. While it's fun to to stuff like that it's also maddening because you get to witness the shittiest people on earth doing their thing. I'll explain.

You know how ducks are suckers for sno-cones? Yeah, me neither. But that didn't stop a kid from dumping his over the railing, almost hitting a duck in the head. What did the dad, who was holding him up do? Absolutely fucking nothing! Not for a single fucking second did he take the time to explain to his kid that what he did was wrong. Look, I know kids do some stupid shit before you have a chance to grab them sometimes, but for the love of the big bang theory you've got to put in a little fucking effort after the fact or your little retard child is going to grow up just like you. Little boy blue and the man on the moon...

Hey, you've seen a peacock before right? They've got that long plumage extending a good five feet off the back of their body. It definitely looks odd. Beautiful, but odd. So this particular zoo has free range animals, of which peacocks are the most interesting and prevalent. Despite signs telling you to not touch the free range animals, or to not run around them, or to generally not approach or bother them, can you guess what both kids AND adults were doing?

How about stepping on the fucking plumage! How about kids running after them and trying desperately to touch them. Fucking ADULTS trying to pet them. And again, not a single parent was doing anything about their kids breaking the rules and scaring the shit out of the birds. Nothing. Look, I'm not perfect. I've done a couple stupid things in my life and I make mistakes. But goddamit there was someone there to point out what I did was wrong and correct me so I didn't grow up to be a completely selfish douchebag with zero respect for anything but myself. Correct your fucking kids when they do something wrong or I will...I will...blog about them and call you a douchebag.

So there!

Later, we see a woman drop her little ziplock bag containing pink wafer sticks for her kid. One of the many kids opting to not walk at all and instead be pushed around in carts or strollers. Those future fat bastards are going to be sitting next to us all on flights some day. Awesome. So anyways, there were about 5 left and the bag fell open and to the ground. A couple fell out and a couple stayed in. The mom apologized to the kid for ruining her snack, kicked the wafers off the path and walked on. We were literally 20 feet from a garbage can.

But my favorite thing was not someone disrespecting the zoo, it's animals, staff, the environment, other people's property, and anyone else in their path. It was a guy trying to do a nice job for his kids near the turtle habitat.

They were behind us and we'd already ascertained that there were no visible turtles at the moment. This guy and his kids was behind us and approaching the area. As he gets close he says in a somewhat slow, sing-songy drawl:

"Look, there's a big ol' turtle."

I take a quick look over and note there are still no turtles.

About 5 seconds later...

"Nope. That's just a log."

Log, turtle, it doesn't matter. The guy was trying. That's all I ask of you assholes out there. I understand that your fat little kid is going to chuck his sloppy joe at an animal. He doesn't know any better. And he isn't getting much distance with his chubby little arms, anyways. But can we agree that you ought to go ahead and explain to Chunk that he wasn't supposed to do that? Maybe put the fear of god in him if he chooses to do it again? Take away his fifth order of dippin' dots? Something?

Anyhow, we finished the day at a local brasserie that has a happy hour that offered half off specials on everything we love. Frites, moules, beer, and even thin crust pizzas were all half off.

Maybe it was a little karmic payback for not being complete douchebags.

So today is Easter.

I think.

I don't pay too much attention to these sorts of things unless it means I get a day off work. Since Easter always lands on a Sunday I'm already not working, and as a result I never really know when Easter is until it gets close and everyone starts talking about it.

Not unlike Jesus, Oddcoupling was recently resurrected from the dead. Though not born in Bethlehem or of a virgin, Oddcoupling probably did die for your sins. So Oddcoupling is pretty much the same as Jesus. This is a mathematical fact, so suck it.

At any rate, because it's important (Easter) to so many people you end up with this annoying situation upon leaving a conversation where you say your normal "Have a nice day" which is followed by a typical "You too" and then followed by "Happy Easter" which is followed by "Same to you" which is then followed by the standard Easter ritual of killing a bunny, if I'm not mistaken. It's ridiculous. You just can't walk away from people when a holiday is around the corner.

I try to deflect the inevitable three or four tier goodbye ritual by lumping it all in together. "Nice talking with you, have a nice weekend and a happy Easter!" I do this while starting to turn and walk away, but invariably the person you're talking to just can't let it go.

"Thanks. You too......It's supposed to be beautiful this weekend, are you doing anything?"

Yeah. I'm trying to walk away from you, for christsake! Me walking in the opposite direction of you is a great sign of that, just so you know.

All I know is eating Jesus-is-no-longer-dead-chocolate-bunny-candy is the way to go. I'll gladly celebrate the existence of Zeus if it means peeps and M&M's and peanut butter cups.

So anyways, because Oddcoupling has risen from the dead after dying for your sins, (Just like Jesus!) Oddcoupling would like to wish you a Happy Easter.

It's nice out. Are you doing anything special?

I would have updated sooner, but there was the moving stuff and the moving more stuff and also hanging things on walls and cleaning things up and there has been the drinking of lots of wine, because we have had things to celebrate (see: accomplishing all of the above).

Before you see all of the lovely pictures of our new place, I will first tell you all of the things I love about my new town. Within walking distance, I have already found:

• A great wine shop where it is seemingly impossible to find a bad bottle of wine. Hey, someone has to provide the celebratory vino, right?


• A yoga studio, which I've only been to once, but so far, so good.


• A health food store, right next to the yoga studio, where yesterday, an older bearded gentleman shopped for organic Mexican fare, soy milk and vitamins while very much barefoot.


• Several really adorable shops full of antiques, clothes and general awesomeness.

All of that, a man who is more amazing when I see him every day than he was before we lived together, and this is our place:






















Life is good.

If you happened to miss the last post by Elizabeth, you ought to go read it. She does a great job embarrassing me by telling you all of the sweet little things I do.

Don't worry, though. I've since played some tackle football, lit a few things on fire, and drove around all weekend long without looking at directions. So I'm all man again.

We're now looking at six days until we pick up the Penske truck (Still amazed that it was considerably cheaper than a Uhaul) and begin loading that sucka up for a cross country journey. OK, so we're only going a couple states to the left. But it's still gonna take a good 12 hours of driving so it'll feel like the entire country. Get off our nuts.

I was kinda hoping to find some sweet attractions to stop at along the way. My first thought was the Biggest Ball of Twine, which Weird Al Yankovic taught me is unfortunately in Minnesota. So then I just set my google-fu free and here's what I found...

In Clearfield, PA we can try the 15lb burger.

Tom Mix's Outhouse in Driftwood, PA!

Earnest Angley's Cathedral Buffet and Life of Christ Display in Cuyahoga Falls, OH!

The Doodlebug Train Horror Monument, also in Cuyahoga Falls, OH!

Quaker Square in Akron where we can sleep in a grain silo!

And Finally, the Goodyear World of Rubber Museum in Akron!

I'm all about celebrating rubbers.

I'll be interested to see the BTC Display (Bracelet to Tractor Conversion) in the East wing. It's said that the amount of rubber it takes to comfortably cover my junk during safe intercourse is roughly equivalent to the amount it takes to make a Goodyear tractor tire.

We'll see.

At any rate it's an exciting week. I've got a lot of prep work to get done so that we can move directly to our new pad. I'm lucky in that I've been staying at a furnished place so the majority of my stuff is in a storage locker already. I could probably fit what I have here right now into my car. There will be a few things to take out of storage, which might be a minor pain in the ass, but at least I won't have to box much stuff.

I'll be using drug sample boxes for my gear and I hear Elizabeth will be using liquor boxes. The neighbors are going to look at us funny. But that's nothing. Just wait until they hear the monkey sex noises from the terrace.

It's one week until my man swoops in here and moves me there, and I have so many thoughts and emotions battling around within me, that I'm a bit of a bundle of nerves, and also very easily irritated because why are people asking me stupid questions when I have to figure out how many boxes will fit into whatever cubic feet of space that truck is? Also, the procrastinator in me (which takes up about 82% of my body) is losing its battle with the other parts (the daydreaming part, the organized part, etc) and is staging a coo. It's forcing other projects upon me through some bizarre procrastination universal pull, and those projects are taking entirely too much time and consuming more energy than they should. So I decided to take a few minutes and reflect on all of the reasons this internal torture and external upheaval of all my stuff is so worth it, and then I thought to myself, "hey, what if I shared those very good reasons with everyone, and that way I can simultaneously ease my mind and embarrass my man at the same time by writing it all over the interwebs!!!"

Ten random things, in no particular order:

1. I receive messages throughout the day, quoting very solid facts about important things, like how brewing coffee in a brand new loft apartment makes it 14% more delicious (this morning's fact). Made much more important if you realize that coffee is necessary to my very survival...more on that in a bit.

2. When I freak out about stuff, and decide that I am not going to talk to anyone so go away and leave me alone, and yes, that means even you, he somehow finds the perfect balance between giving me space and sending me messages just sweet enough to coax me from my shell, built of stubborn and ick.

3. The conversation we had where I finally told him I was ready to move, I could hear him smiling in such a way that I wanted to jump through the phone at that moment just to see if it was half as cute as it sounded. That is a conversation I will never forget, because it is the only time in my life I have ever said one sentence to someone and made them that happy.

4. He goes behind my back and talks to my family about how he will make sure I stay in touch better (because I am terrible terrible terrible about that)

5. He will no longer have to get up before me, run to Starbucks and come back before I've even gotten out of bed, because he knows I'll be cranky if I don't have my coffee first thing. I, in fact, have my sweet espresso machine that I will be moving into our place, because he gave it to me.

6. He is more than willing to put up with all of my idiosyncrasies convictions about my home...there are too many to list here, but perhaps in a later post. I will say that one is no tv in the bedroom, and that's a big one, considering we will now have 2 large flat screens, so one of them will be relegated to the spare bedroom/office.

7. He happens to have the most amazing family of sweet, generous and thoughtful people, and a group of friends who I get to inherit by default...totally lucked out on that. It makes moving away from everything and everyone I know so well much less scary.

8. While I have been avoiding the practical matters of the move, and instead have found it useful (in my own head) to find things to focus on, like new bedding! and towels! he has taken it upon himself to actually book a plane ticket to fly here, and a truck with which to move all of my stuff. I'm pretty sure the move wouldn't happen based on whether or not we find 500 thread count sheets that are appropriately cute, so that's probably good.

9. I'm going to sleep really, really well. I have ridiculous insomnia. It comes and goes, and is particularly fierce when I'm stressed out. In the two years we've been together, I've had trouble sleeping once while we were in the same place. Once. That is miraculous.

10. Before he realized I was seriously considering the move, he tried to entice me with various bribes. We have ummmm differing opinions about what dogs are cute. I will always have a dog, it just makes home feel homier for me. My dog is getting older, and I'm trying to accept the fact that she will not, in fact, outlive me. We have discussed getting another dog when that day comes, and hit a stalemate because I have a thing for the smush-faced dogs. I had a Shar-Pei, who I thought was the cutest thing ever, I love bulldogs. He thinks they are uncute, which is just ridiculous. He promised me I could get whatever smush-faced dog I wanted. Bribery is awesome. That dog will look a little something like this:



As a compromise, I think we should name him Fletcher.

Obviously I'm going to have opinions about what is going on our patio...and by opinions, I mean I'm the boss of that sort of stuff.

This is the general idea of what I'm looking to do out there.

Feel free to bring any of these things by as a housewarming gift!

Or, you know, a good bottle of wine works, too. But then, we won't have awesome furniture to sit on, so that will be all your fault.




Yes, the 2 bathroom thing is a must. I'm not sure it will be necessary to McGuyver any locks, since I won't be attempting to barge in on the bathroom when the door is closed. Though you all are extremely inventive and I'm impressed!

Many of you have given us your recipe for successful cohabitation. From making sure there is a separate room to disappear in if necessary (having your own space) to making sure there are two bathrooms all the way to avoiding living together at all fucking cost, we've heard it all.

Thanks for the tips.

Personally (And um, such as) I believe the two bathroom thing is the most important. I will never, and I repeat NEVER, be the guy who invites people in for a discussion while he's negotiating the release of some chocolate hostages. EVER! Nor will I be the one who gets invited in while his significant other is doing the same thing so they can have a conversation about, well, whatever it is people who talk to each other while one is dropping deuce would talk about.

Now I know some of you are out there thinking that it's just a matter of time before it happens. Then, once the flood gates are open it'll happen all the time. Well, let me be the first to say No Fucking Way!

Many of my neuroses might be (Read: most certainly are) ridiculous, but a few of them are so solidly ingrained in my headball (Medical term) that there will never be a change in how I think.

To name a few things that will never change:

Pooping while in the same bathroom as anyone
Hating mustard
Hating people
Never forgiving Twix for changing the cookie in their Peanut Butter Twix
Never forgiving KitKat for doing away with the foil in lieu of shrink wrap
Midgets
Left handed people
Swedes

Alright, so the list got away from me. Get off my nuts. You get the basic idea and that's what counts.

One of the nicest things about this new joint is the master bath is as far from the living room and kitchen as is physically possible. Which means I don't have to sit in there wondering if everyone can hear me. The bathroom to guests distancing in this place is wonderfully designed.

There is one minor issue that will need some looking into. The doors are sliding track doors so there isn't a lock on them. I'll have to figure out a way to design a locking mechanism.

To do this I'll be spending a few hours catching up on my DVR'd McGuyver episodes. He's gotta have some ingenious rigging mechanism I can duplicate.

We reserved a truck with Penske last night. It was almost a couple hundred dollars cheaper than Uhaul for the same size. Plus, and I don't know why I feel this way, for some reason it makes me a little happier inside knowing that I didn't use Uhaul.

Looks like we'll end up driving halfway and shacking up for the night before making the second half the trip in the morning. This way we can arrive at a decent time for people to help us unpack and we don't have to sit in a moving truck for 11 hours straight. Elizabeth hates long car rides and I will be doing all the driving, so this plan sounds good to me.

Ever look for pet-friendly hotels? Fucking ripoffs. One place wanted $75 for a non-refundable pet charge. Most pets are more civilized and clean than your average loser U.S. American is (and also, such as, thee Iraq) and often they're more quite. Looks like I found one for a ten dollar fee that will work just fine.

Lastly, what do you do with a private 22x23ft terrace? Besides have wild outdoor monkey sex, I mean. Like, what do you put out there besides a grill and table with chairs to utilize the space?

Feel free to give us ideas, call me a fag, or ask me for a link exchange in comments. I like what you're doing over at your blog these days, so I'm down.

Two weeks from today I will be helping load a U-Haul truck with Elizabeth's (Read: The only stuff allowed in our new apartment) stuff. Apparently my green leather recliner is not welcome. She's lucky there isn't a basement or enough square footage for it anyways. My man cave will have to wait.

So the place I'll be attempting to lock down for us is going to be a half mile walk from a bustling city center. It's THEE destination for nightlife in the area. The Suburban Socialites, if you want to sound like a complete douche, flock to the area for the bars and restaurants. It's also a huge draw for the newly married as most of the homes in the surrounding area are perfectly sized bungalows and such.

We'll be going two bed two bath industrial design loft with a sick terrace. Seriously, this fucker is a 22x23 private terrace. It's total square footage is damn near half the size of the loft!

A buddy of mine already brought up the idea of an outdoor poker game, and I think that idea, as my mom would say, is the titties.

The best part of the whole deal is that they have a ridiculous two month free offer right now because they need to start generating some income. The place was originally slated for purchase only. Turns out the bad economy helped us in this case.

I loves me some free rent!

What more could Elizabeth want? Concrete stained flooring, exposed brick and ductwork, and me walking around naked every morning. (Your welcome for that image, by the way)

Here are a couple examples. Not the best pictures in the world, but at least it will give you a tiny idea.






It's mostly identical in design to what we'll have. The walls won't be that bright and black guys won't be allowed in our living room. Gotcha! Kidding, of course. We'll totally allow black people in our living room. Besides, I'm basically black from the waist down, out on the dance floor, and while out on the basketball court anyways. I am a man of the people.

So long as you aren't a douchebag or a D-Lister, you'll be welcome.

(Sorry Joaquin)

((Goddamn, I'm on fire this morning!))

I'm blogging, bitches. It's for good reason. Things are about to change drastically. For those of you in the midwest...sorry, but you are about to be invaded, because after waiting and waiting and waiting and more waiting, we (I) have decided that since the move down south isn't going to be possible any time soon (thanks, shitty economy and lack of job transfer possibilities!), it's time to bite the bullet. So, later this month I will be moving out there. There. I wrote it. It's totally real now.

After the saddest MYTGOD post ever, I'm sure there were those of you who were all "ugh, what a heartless bitch." The fact is that deciding NOT to go then and there was very difficult. However, it would have been the result of a hot-headed and rash decision and likely would have resulted in the loss of one of my best friends. So, I got some stuff cleared up and feel a lot better about making the move in a few weeks. Not that I'm happy about moving there. It's cold...colder than it is here, and I realize that people who live in that general vicinity will claim that this is just snobbery, but the fact is that culture, cuisine and general life pace is just vastly different. When the closest large city requires a Kevlar® vest, people just tend to chill out in their subdivisions 40 minutes away from everything else. It's just foreign to me. So fine, I suck, but deal with it.

There is plenty I have to be happy about there. Most importantly is my man, who was audibly thrilled when I told him about my decision to move yesterday. He has already started laying the groundwork for finding us a sweet pad in a place that I will hate the least amount possible. That should be a fun project! It's possible he'll be regretting his insistence that I move there once he tries to find said pad. Now he's stuck with me.