A letter from me to you guys...

Hi everyone! Thanks for coming to this site. I've been checking my statistics and I've learned that there are a good amount of you that stop by almost daily. That's real cool and I appreciate you. If you aren't one of the locals and you're just stopping by for the first time, I welcome you with open arms.

Today's post isn't about music. It's about me keeping you all up to date with what's going on over here on my side of the screen. Some things are exciting and others are just plain tragic.

To make a really long story short I'll put it like this:
Three months ago my wife and I left our our Los Angeles apartment and packed a truck headed for Nashville, Tennessee. We were going there to buy a house and do the whole American thing. Too bad none of that actually happened.

After a few days of driving a sixteen foot Budget truck across the country we finally arrived in Music City. Within 48 hours of non stop unpacking and arranging furniture we were already relaxing on the couch watching TV. Life is good.

I started my new job a few days later and for the first three days it was good. Everything was going fine until my new boss, we'll call him Knah, decided that he would grossly mishandle me. I was there to be a supervisor and although overqualified, he treated me as if I had just gotten off of a raft and washed up at his feet. By day three he had cornered me in a hallway and tore into me for something that I had no part of. He got in my face and basically let me know that I wasn't ever going to advance under his command. That sociopath would probably deny it too. I walked away from that moment knowing that working for him could realistically be compared to being a vegetarian chef for the "Where's the beef lady"

A few weeks passed and he had done nothing but snarl and burp. Jesus, it sounds like I was employed by an animal, doesn't it? Anyway, to him, nothing I did was to his standards and after one final showdown I let him know that I couldn't work for him any longer. It felt really, really good because for a split second that blow hard was silent. Things were so awful working for him that it didn't matter that I'd have no income. If I could change anything though, it would be that wouldn't have cried when I was quitting. Not because I'm some pussy, but because I was so heartbroken over the fact that I uprooted my life along with my wifes and it was a pretty decent body blow. Try explaining to a pregnant woman that you have to basically tour the country when you originally promised them a house...

Three weeks later I had gotten word that my old job was interested in having me back, this time with a promotion as well as a raise. I packed the truck, this time a twenty six footer, by myself because my wife, and I'm very excited to announce, is pregnant with twin girls! I did get a little help from the only guy at the Tennessee job that I actually made a connection with. He did it for twenty bucks and a pepperoni pizza. His name is Labaron, like the car. He was so nice. His life was actually washed away by Katrina. Poor guy.

"All right" my wife and I screamed as we piled into the truck with our two dogs desperately trying to escape the brutal freezing weather. That pumped up feeling only lasted about a minute because as she turned the key in the ignition the truck made a wheezing noise, rattled a bit, and wouldn't turn on. We sat there and repeatedly tried to get it going, but nothing happened. We called Penske to let them know that they rented us a dud and they told us that they'd send someone out to see what the problem was.

After a long, cold, and boring two hour wait, a little fat guy pulled up in a ratty old truck. He popped open the hood and fiddled around with a bunch of stuff before telling us that the Diesel gasoline might have frozen. What? Gas freezes? Shit. Maybe the south has shitty gas who knows?

Thirty minutes later the truck magically turned on and we blasted out of Nashville as if the devil was threatening anal sex.

We drove for three days and as we were driving through Akela, New Mexico we started to smell a really strong burning smell. It was sort of like burned tires. All of a sudden the truck made a few weird noises and the smell got worse. We decided that we'd pull over to see what it was. We pulled into one of those American Indian highway shops that sell moccasins and turquoise jewelry. We looked under the truck and saw that there were two spouting oil leaks spilling everywhere. Pissed off we called Penske again only to be told that it would be a while before someone could make it out to us.

Approximately thirty minutes later a ratty old truck pulled up alongside of us and out hopped a small Mexican man in a cowboy hat and a Baby Huey-esque white guy. The smaller man looked beneath the truck and within a few seconds he said those magic words that let us know how screwed we actually were. He spoke car talk, which to a guy without an actual right to drive, means gibberish. In short I gathered that the truck was dead due to some recalled part that clearly was of high importance. We then got back on the phone with Penske and they told us that they'd send out a whole new truck, but it wouldn't get to us for about two hours.

Close to four hours later a new truck pulled into the lot on a flatbed. The small Mexican and Baby Huey started transferring all of our stuff into the new truck. Their hearts were in the right place, but their moving skills left a whole lot to be desired. The were putting all of our neatly arranged boxes and furniture into the new truck with no actual method of organization. When we tried to intervene we were politely scoffed at and informed that this is what "they were getting paid to do." Whatever.

Another two hours later my wife and I were back on the road, but that turned into a nightmare as well. It was raining cats and dogs and since New Mexico is basically desert, the highways are pitch black except for the headlights from the other cars. To top it off, the high beams didn't work so we decided that it was too dangerous to be driving and figured we'd stop at a motel for the night.

We then drove for another two days and finally saw the sign that said "Los Angeles." I never thought I'd be so excited about getting back to a place I didn't really love to begin with.

We didn't have an apartment lined up so we stayed at my wifes brother's house for three days while we searched for a place to live. While we were driving to California we had a place lined up, but at the last minute the lady who was going to rent to us had a change of opinion about renting her house out to a pregnant woman. She didn't actually come out and say that, but she made it unintentionally clear that this is what she meant.

On day three we decided to trying searching for apartments that were a little bit more pricey than we were used to and called up a number that we had found on Craigslist. Later that evening we met with the owner and he took an immediate liking to us. We wrote a check and like that, we now have a new address.

We wanted to celebrate, but along came the news that my wifes mother is dying of melanoma. The rest of the family didn't see it fit to let us know earlier because they knew that my wife is a high risk pregnancy and they didn't want her to get stressed out. That was an enormous bad move because now the doctors are giving her approximately four months to live as a best case scenario. Now my wife and her brother are going to be flying out to Boston to be at their moms bedside.

I have to stay in L.A. to start my new job, move into the new place, and hold things down on the West coast. I hate this because I hated my own mother who died when I was eleven years old and I really, really love my mother in law. She's a great lady who lives by the bible and has never done anything wrong her whole life. She's fantastic and this isn't fair, but when is dying fair? The way things are looking as I type this post, my wife and her brother are checking for flights and there's a huge possibility that she'll stay with her mother until the end which leaves me here...alone. I have to stay behind because I need to work to pay for this house we really can't afford. Life is funny sometimes they say...so please, somebody hit me when I'm supposed to laugh.

This blog will take a short break while things get sorted out, but not too long...I've got a lot of tunes for all of you goons. Thanks for listening.

oh,robot