~

Sure you do.

If you're a lady you've no doubt masturbated with me in mind on many occasion.

If you're a dude you probably have the same sort of man-crush on me that I have on that dude from Holmes on Holmes. It's an appreciation of being really really good at something that you aren't. In my case, handsomeness and awesometownliness.

It's a word. Shut up.

So a while back the girlfriend and I started up this little space because we thought it would be interesting to write about our experiences moving in together from 501 miles apart. It was an amazing idea. I still pat myself on the back, though I have to use my right hand each time because my left forearm is extraordinarily muscular from years of "surfing" the net and I can no longer bend my wrist. On a side note, I'm a fantastic butter churner. I can go all day.

Back to my point, though. We fired off a few posts and all was on track until we got sidetracked. Work was tough for her to come by, money became tight, I'd exhausted all free porn videos available on the net, and work was refusing to allow me to transfer to where I wanted to be. All of a sudden my free time for blogging about how large my penis is (We're talking monstrous, ladies) became time better spent going gray and working on a new right hand technique.

But guess what?

Good things come to those who wait. Well, to be fair it also happens to douchebags who don't deserve it. I see it every day, but that's another story. Good things for us, and maybe even good things for you, because it's entirely possible this brings a (or this) blog back from the depths of unusedness.

Totally a word.

So what happened?

The Bracelet-Bitchmore Compound is relocating to Charlotte, NC. A place where (I'm not going to lie in this space because it's not my style) I'll be excited to have a whole new set of minority faces to look at.

Look, I understand that Arab Americans are some of the most pleasant and fantastic looking people on the planet. Not hairy at all, delightful personalities full of sing-songy and melodic speech patterns, and clearly they are everybody's buddy. But it'll be nice to walk in to a gas station, or donut shop, or liquor store, or grocery store, or any store and not see "Sam" or his cousin in his affliction shirt greeting me.

You're probably thinking that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. The population in the D is around 800,000. The neighboring Arab population is about 400,000. It's great that you can get great hommoulli and tabboush, but I need a change of scenery.

I'll be sad to no longer have access to all the friends and family that are here, but I'll be excited to finally live in a place that is on the upswing. A place where I will see more sun. I can play golf all year, maintain a farmer's tan year round, increase the area's consumption of Diet Mountain Dew, and pick up some annoying habits y'all!

So maybe Lady Bitchmore and I will start writing about this new experience. Maybe just me. Who knows?

But, come two months from now I'll be calling a new state home for the first time in 20 years.

I'll call it home, but despite the struggles of the D and my dislike for many things related to it, this has been my home for a long time. I've a million great memories and I'll be judging the hell out of North Carolina against them. Still, it'll be hard not to swap this:



For this:


~

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.