Wow, first one in over a year. No more of that waiting trash. I have time and this stuff needs to get put up for everyone to read and have a good time reading because most of it is funny as hell on a Sunday.
Well, what has happened in the last year? Moved out of Grand Rapids, almost to New York, then I found out my work has a bunch of clowns working in HR, and came back home to near Ann Arbor. A lot of other stuff too, but I’m leaving that til later so I can get back to the tale first.
A Catherine Wheel (disambiguation), seems to describe Tara and I’s relationship btw. Google that shit.
So yeah, starting back to Tara. We started dating of course (see the last article) and usually hung out around Gabe and Shawn Moore’s apartment. Again, we were all good friends, but really we hung out there to drink and have a good time. It was typical of me to have a case of WARM Busch Light in the trunk of my gnarly 96 Dodge Neon in case they weren’t home or whatever. ---side note: Have you ever had warm Busch Light? Like it’s been in the trunk, so it’s nearly hot? The first one tastes like garbage, but after that they taste like warm grape Faygo soda. Still disgusting as hell, but manageable--- Anywho, around June (must be 2k2) I get the sweet idea to move out of my Mom’s house into an apartment. This came about because I felt I was old enough to move out and I had the decent job of controlling the auto parts trade of Essexville. I figured moving into Huntington Place apartments would be ideal. It’d be across the street from my work, and since you haven’t lived Bay City style til you’ve lived in the Huntington Place apartments, I’d just start there.
Gabe was the one who initiated this because he and Moore were having issues living together and figured I was one of the few friends who were good for rent money each month. Well, turns out Gabe backed out of the deal, then one afternoon Bill pulled up in my Mom’s driveway and literally asks, “So when are you gonna move out of this place?” How’s that for timing? I tell him I’ve already been approved for an apartment and it’s on.
Tara was more pumped about this then I was. She figured that now she can hang out somewhere else besides her crazy house or my Mom’s. So of course I had to break the news to my Mom somehow that I was moving out. How did I do this? Moving out ghetto style!
In case you don’t understand “ghetto style”, it’s the way people move that typically live in the hoods, and have to move to a new place every 3.5 weeks. Get your crew together, get a pickup truck , grab everything from the old house in about an hour, load the bed up until it’s literally overflowing, throw your crew of 7 in the front of a single cab manual tranny pickup, head to the new joint, and empty it in one hour.
She was gone for the weekend we were planning this, so I can only imagine wondering were my stuff was Sunday or Monday. No big deal really, once we talked about it, but my named was all signed already, so there was no going back.
This entire year of living there was relatively cool. Living away from home, doing whatever you wanted really, throwing couches off of the 3rd floor balcony into the parking lot (3 of them) and not getting in trouble. Sounds like a good time to me. The best part was though that you could have people over all night and no one could tell you they had to leave. Tara would usually have to be home to her house by like 10 every night, damn young women, but that left it open for my friend Stacie (or anyone else really [NOT former girlfriend Stacy]) to come over after that. (hehehe) There’s nothing like being at work from 7am until 4pm, then hanging out with your girlfriend from 4pm til 10pm (doing nothing), then hanging out with someone else from 10pm til like 5 or 6am, sleeping one hour and going back to work at 7am. Thank god I only worked across the street. Man, if I would’ve been caught back then doin what I did, I’d probably be dead right now. Tara was nuts already at this point (you’ll see in future parts), but hey, at 20 years old you really don’t care about much.
A stupid funny story about one time in the year Bill and I lived there – I was hanging out over at James Knappman and Brandon’s apartment, hanging out with Stacie and Flemmer and all the other every weekend friends drinking. Now James made this drink called a reverse jackhammer. Some orange creamsicle tasting vodka drink. Back then I really didn’t drink much, but those things were so good, I couldn’t stop having them. Next thing you know its 3am, and you’ve finished off a bottle of Mohawk vodka while drinking beers in between. Well, deciding to head home then, this dope named Mark somehow finds out I live at Huntington just like him. He wants a ride home too. Now drunk driving is wrong mmmkay, but home was only a straight road and a mile away and I didn’t feel drunk (pfff) so We set out home. I felt perfect getting home, got out of the shitty van (that’s next time) I had, made it to the very first step upstairs and it hit me. Time to puke all over the stairs. I crawled up those damn stairs, made it to the front door,and heard banging on the door. I open it to find Bill on the floor arguing with his girlfriend (at the time) on the phone and throwing shoes at the door. WTF? Who the hell throws shoes at the damn door anymore? I made it into bed with a stove pot next me while the room was spinning. That didn’t last long as I ended up on the bathroom floor. Bill was nice enough though to stay up all night arguing on the phone, and still managed to pick my head up off the floor and put a towel underneath it. Thanks Bill.
Next entry: Meeting Rachel (again) and Amanda …and the last day of high school 2003.
Thanks for reading!
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