Update from the front.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!” Is something I’ve been hearing a lot of lately. Usually in frantic, angry tones on my voicemail from family members, various freelance employers and internet friends who actually have my cell number…since I don’t have internet at my new place as of yet.

Goddamn, time does fly when you’re moving and have no internet with which to avail people of the knowledge that you are, in fact, moving.

So, I’ve moved. It was incredibly inconvenient, and the new neighborhood is less than favorable (despite a Taco Bell across the street), and it is a good hour away from anything I like to do and everyone I like to hang out with. WHY would I move, then, you may be asking? Well, because my roomies wanted to move and the notice they gave me was not sufficient to go find a place of my own with the meager savings I had left after a season of convention-hopping. Sure, they’d been talking about moving for a few months, but each time they spoke of it it was like a chain-smoker saying, “Yeah…this week I’m quitting.” Every possible relocation was spoken like a pipe-dream and disappeared like a whisp of smoke so fast that I got to the point that I didn’t think they were actually going to go through with it. I LIKED my old place. It took me two years to actually feel at home there. To surround myself with a few friends and a few bars that I enjoyed frequenting and settle into a decent pantomime of a productive life. NOW, when my girlfriend comes over, I have to leave my apartment complex to meet her where she parks and walk her in for fear of her being raped or mugged between the gate and my door. My now four hour round trip commute to work isn’t exactly a selling point for this new residence either. Nor are the creepy neighbors or the equally creepy staff of the complex. It’s like I’ve stumbled upon a mexican version of Innsmouth (Go ahead, look it up. I’ll wait.) and, while this prospect would normally be exciting to a Lovecraft fanatic like myself, it is less so when you’re wondering if today is the day your fish-eyed neighbors make a move for your female friends when you’re at work.

I don’t know how long I’ll be dealing with Casa Del Innmouth, though, as the little lady and I are talking about taking a giant leap towards wanting to murder eachother and move in together. Seeing as how between my place and hers we’ve pretty much been living together ANYWAYS, and we’re sort of at the point where neither of us can sleep without the other around we’re both pretty sold on the idea (even though another move may cause me to start hurling small children into the ocean). Plenty of other reasons, but we all know how I dislike talking in terms of hoo-mahn emotions and such.

For those of you waiting with bated breath for news of WWTX ‘08 (I’ma lookin’ at you, Carly) I have no effing clue at the moment. If there are still tables available as of the 7th of September (which is when I’ll have the $$$ to do something about it), then we’re good to go. If not, then I’ve let you all down. There’s just been too much on my plate the last few months and WWTX unfortunately fell by the wayside. Worse comes to worse, I’ll have plenty of time to make sure there’s an MM presence at WWLA.