This is Epth Nation

Epth is a state of mind, not a place. Reading this will give you a virtual drivers license in that state, but you'll still need to be 21 to purchase alcohol. And you can't get any there anyway, so stop asking.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Tour of My New-ish Apartment

Well, I finally joined the early 2000’s and got a wireless network set up at my crib. It was totally by accident, as I got the access point for free from my boss, who was going to get rid of it because it’s old and not cool anymore. But after much frustration and headache, I got it working here. Sitting in this cool chair in the living room with no wires attached to my computer, I am able to get on the internet and see every stupid thing it has to offer, even the Star Wars Kid and the Wauwatosa, WI site on Myspace. Also, if I wanted to, I could connect to several other peoples’ unsecured wireless networks around here. If I were poor and had no scruples but a ton of gumption, I would totally cancel my Comcast/Warner cable internet and just mooch off the people around me. Take my friendly computing advice: Use a fricking WEP key. Otherwise, you’ll get nothing but hop-ons all day. Do you drive around in a stair-car? No? Then don't surf around on the stair-internet.

I wonder if Irving, my new city, has a wireless connection anywhere or everywhere. There’s certainly enough white people in northern Irving to get that done. I’m sure I could go to the Starbucks down the block or something, but it’s much more fun to get community internet. I feel like I’m getting something for the taxes other people around me pay. Plus, I don’t want Starbucks watching me and figuring out ways to sell me latte’s.

My wife had the brilliant idea of me going around to different rooms in my apartment and blogging about them as I sit there, now that we've settled in slightly. I don't know if this is going to work, or if it will be super-boring, but we're going to try it anyway.

I'm currently wirelessly sitting on the floor in front of the 27-inch TV in the living room. It's sitting in an otherwise empty entertainment center that is just barely big enough for it. I know from experience that the entertainment center weighs about a buhzillion pounds. Behind me is our "sectional," and I am leaning against it. I remember going to sectionals in High School. To the left of the entertainment center is a giant black & white picture. The picture is of my and my wife's heads. There are some other things on the ledge that we haven't put up yet. We had to put up the heads first. There are some upacked boxes on the floor, but way less than there were a week ago. To the right of the TV are some empty boxes, a ledge covered in all sorts of miscellaneous crap, and a blonde wooden bar stool. Under the shadow of the bar stool is a hefty bag full of shoes we're throwing out. Don't worry, we still have a buhzillion more pairs of shoes in the closet by the Master Bathroom. But more on that later.

Beyond the wall behind the TV lies the dining "room," an itty-bitty box of space which I am now sitting in. I can no longer tell what the people on TV are saying, but that's ok because it's just season one of Laguna Beach grinding to a standstill. The dining room table is one of those tall tables that are in vogue these days. The table is covered in boxes, and the only other things of note in this foxhole are the hutch in the corner (which I can't see because of the boxes) and the light above the table that split open my nose when I first moved in. This used to be the coldest room in the house before I closed the vent. Now let's get out of here because I'm getting no wireless signal and I'm illogically paranoid that my wireless card will forget how to connect.

On the floor of the kitchen is my dog Allie, and she's pantingly anticipating a shipment of popcorn from the microwave. She had been lethargic and clingy all day, until my wife got out the popcorn. This is a big kitchen, way bigger than the kitchen we used to have or the dining room we currently have. It has a ton of counter-space in a u-shape that also contains an enamel double death sink and a futuristic electric stove with the hot surface that glows red rather than the exposed metal circles. If I was smarter I'd know the name for that. Anyway, I love the stove and I haven't even used it yet. It makes me feel like I'm in space. Gimme some Tang.

The cabinets are wooden and plentiful, and the kitchen is completely unpacked. I'll spare you descriptions of the spices and the flour, but you should know that we have poultry rub and we aren't afraid to use it. Ok, that's not true -- we are afraid to use it. We have no idea what it is.

Also on the counter is a bunch of stuff we never use, like coffee filers, a cookie jar, and a bread maker. I think we've made bread once in the last five years. Also useless are the things on top of the cabinets way up by the ceiling, things such as the "pasta bike," the "waffle maker," and the "wok." They are useless in the sense that we never use them any more. Maybe I'll make Allie ride the pasta bike, just to get my money's worth out of the thing.

The laundry room (really more of a closet) is part of the kitchen, and there's a new washer and dryer in there that we had to do touch-up painting on because Sears is evil. We buy the extended warranty, and they have the audacity to give us grief when we want them to come out and fix the paintjob on the brand new washer/dryer set that they messed up. We just paid them $1200, and they can't even install the things to our satisfaction? What kind of Tim Burton-esque nightmare world do we live in here? Did I wake up in Guam?

The only room that borders the kitchen is the living room, and the ledge o' crap isn't enough to stop me from hearing Kristen crying because she has to break up with Stephen. Like she has any real feelings. I'm getting a crappy signal in here as well, so let's try to reconnect, shall we? I'll meet you in the bedroom.

Our master bedroom kicks all kinds of butt. Our bed (header and footer) was purchased on sale from a guy with a funny voice at Mattress Giant. They should change the name, because they got some nice affordable beds there. It's made of a brown metallic substance and it's about as classy as we'll get. There's a file cabinet to the right of the bed that's serving very dutifully as an end table. Unfortunately, there are a couple of Precious Moments figurines on it rght now. On the other side of the bed is an empty wooden bookcase (all our books are in the closet of the 2nd bedroom right now -- they'll probably be the last thing we unpack, because they're so stinking heavy) that I'm using to hold up a clock-radio that doubles as our alarm. It's on my side of the bed (the right side) because I'm pretty sure my wife doesn't know how to use it. In fact, sometimes I think that's half of the reason she keeps me around.

In the corner of the room next to the bookcase is our dog's house, which is where we have to put her during rainstorms these days. If left to her own doggie devices, Allie will immediately unleash her bowels on the carpet when she hears thunder. This is unacceptable, but thankfully she doesn't mind her little house so much. It's her safe place in a world of evil thunder and vaccuum cleaners and basically anything bigger than her that makes noise or isn't nailed down.

Our dressers are on either side of the room, only my wife's is by my side of the bed and mine is by her side. It's a bad system, but I don't feel like moving them. On her dresser (and my side of the bed) is our old TV and VCR. I'm convinced that the reception is better since we moved here and got Comcast/Time/Warner/Megalopoly Cable TV. I can see Dayle Hinman's makeup more clearly now, I swear. The glare on the TV during the day is bad because we have two big windows in this room. It gets hot in the morning with the sun blasting through, too. It's kinda sad because we really like windows, but we never get to use them in the 105 degree heat. I can't wait for fall.

The Master Blaster Bathroom is off the bedroom across from the bed. It's got what the brochure called a "Roman Tub," which is from what I can tell just a bigger, deeper bathtub. My wife likes it, though. Our shower curtain is a brown froofy thing my wife calls "The sexiest shower curtain ever." I like it, but I don't know about all that. The only other thing of note in here (generic tile, generic shower, generic colors) is the fact that it has two sinks, so two people could theoretically get ready at one time if they had to. Oh, and above the mirrors are a line of those clear bulb lights that you see in movie dressing rooms. Wowza.

Off the bathroom is the Master Blaster Closet, which has a floor covered in my wife's shoes. Remember, we also have a bag of shoes we're throwing out. Not to be too generic guy/girl here, but this is a problem I see no solution for. At least she put her sandals (known up to five years ago as "thongs") upright in a little basket. We'll see if that lasts.

The rest of the MB Closet is filled with my ridiculously out-of-style clothes. Man, it's hot in this bathroom. Let's get out of here.

On the other side of the apartment from the Master Blaster stuff is the computer room, otherwise known as the "office," otherwise known (quite optimistically) as the "second bedroom." The corner of the room holds our cool new glass desk with the laptop computers on either side (very rarely are the both there, now that we've gone wireless). Our big ol' 17-inch monitor is in the center of the desk, and is in many ways the centerpiece of the room. We should probably rethink that. The monitor is connected to both our desktop computers via a KVM switch. Yes, I love technology. Always and forever.

Also on the cool glass desk are the entire set of Homestar Runner figurines, which I rediscovered in an ornate christmas goblet during our move. I just had to get them involved. They were like the first thing I unpacked. The goblet is on the desk, too, along with some generic "computer stuff." In fact, this room is filled with all of our computer stuff, CD's, books, games, and just about any miscellanous household item you can think of. It's like our catch-all room. Office supplies? Check. Pads of paper? Check. Guitar? Check? Cords for electronic devices we no longer own? Check. Winter Clothes? Check. Excess bedsheets? Check. See what I mean?

The other big item in this room is the daybed, which we had to disassemble to get in here. I really like it, though. It's got a bunch of cool pillows on it and stuff. Next to the daybed is another empty bookcase, looking lonely. But forget that -- it's time for the junk room!

The junk room is the "other bathroom," and it's filled with all sorts of stuff that should be unpacked and functional, but aren't. There are six semi-packed boxes in here, as well as a couple of bags, a few tupperware containers, and a magazine basket. At least the toilet works, though. The bad thing about this bathroom is the fan switch is closer to the door than the light switch, so every time I come in here I turn the fan on instead of the light. Maybe that's why we haven't unpacked these boxes -- it's too much trouble just to get the room lighted.

That's're done. Wasn't that tedious? I hope not.


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