Three young girls, around 16 or 17 at the oldest, walked into Diverse Universe tonight. I stopped them at the door, saying “You have to be 18 to come in here because we have adult material.” Before they turned to leave, one of them asked, “How old do you have to be to work here?”

What I wanted to say was, “Regardless of your age, you’re too stupid to work here.”

But I just sighed loudly and said, “18.”

On another note, we’ve moved. I am writing this from my new domicile, the top half of a cute duplex that is quite a bit larger and more comfortable (and on top of that, cheaper!) than our previous hellhole of an apartment on the 6th floor of what felt like a hotel. We have a large balcony/porch in the front, not to mention a small back porch off the kitchen. And it’s a real kitchen! (Our previous place had a little cubbyhole that was meant to be a kitchen of sorts.) It’s closer to both of our places of employment, and we are finally making our cats learn to deal with each other. (We’ve previously kept them separated by a series of tall baby gates and a demilitarized zone, but that isn’t physically possible in the new place, so they will just have to get over it. As I write this, I’m having to pause every few seconds or so to make sure they aren’t killing each other and David and I are both armed with squirt bottles. Thankfully we haven’t had to use them yet, though the temptation to just squirt them for fun almost overcame him last night.) The list of things that are better about this place is long… and though I’m completely exhausted from the move and the aftermath - we still have some final cleaning to go at the old place, plus you know, unpacking - I couldn’t be happier at the moment.

It’s so nice to actually like where you live. Even if our downstairs neighbors have tackied up the front steps with ceramic ducks and wheelbarrows with flowers planted in them. They’re nice folk and all, but yeah… and it was a bit of a letdown to meet a married couple with kids after pulling up to the drive to find a spinning rainbow garden stake in the yard. And after meeting them, I’m 99.999999% sure it’s not a symbol of solidarity with the gay community… But it’s fitting I guess, considering I live upstairs, you know?

Now… to plan a housewarming party. Who wants an invite?

Ahh, the powers of You Tube. Now you, yes you, like Chelle, can truly appreciate the analogy that I first presented in one of my tales of youth.

Beau Nasty : Loverboy :: Cheez Whiz : Parmesan.

I mean, it was a BRILLIANT analogy, even if I do say so myself. But it was hard to fully appreciate it if you weren’t familiar with Beau Nasty. You Tube makes this a reality.

Plus you can point and laugh. I loved this band for a brief period. I still like to hear their songs from time to time.

The ooey gooey cheesiness of Cheez Whiz:

 
As compared to a finer, aged Parmesan (but of course, still pure cheese):

 
Now, worship me for the brilliant wordsmith I really am!

Or, you know, continue pointing and laughing, whatever works for you. Yes, yes, I know. I think you just blew snot on me. Stop laughing already. Dammit.