In Los Angeles

Have you ever tried to make curtains for over 10 windows in your new apartment (for only two rooms)? ...At what point did you say "fuck it, all I want is for my neighbors to not look in on my roommate and I watching Star Trek" and just stapled the fabric to the moulding?

I got into Los Angeles last Wednesday. Cullen and I drove from Colorado in separate cars with a quick stop in Vegas Tuesday night. Driving through western Colorado and eastern Utah is totally and amazingly gorgeous. But there was one point where we had no cell phone signal for about two hours. Since I'm really bad at interpreting boy hand-signals (seriously, who can understand those?) we stopped in a Wal-Mart and picked up a pair of $25 walkie talkies.

Best. Purchase. Ever.

A lot of the communication was complaints about the slow trucks trying to pass other slow trucks. But most of the time, it was us talking about how awesome walkie talkies are.

The night before we started the drive, I had a rough day and didn't start packing until late. I got about 4 hours of sleep. So when we got to Vegas, after about 11 hours of driving, I was pretty tired. We had dinner with Cullen's sister's family, and sat down for a while to talk with some of his relatives. It went kind of late, and before we knew it, it was nearly 11PM. Cullen wanted to go blow $20 on poker or some sort of gambling (since he hadn't been to Vegas since he turned 21) so we decided to head out. I felt sleepy after sitting for so long, so I made Cullen drive. We stopped at the Bellagio. I got out of the car. Then I realized just how tired I was: I was drunk tired.

As Cullen flew around the Bellagio (because people who've lived in New York for a significant amount of time don't walk, they FLY) I was quietly musing to myself how to let him know that I was, in fact, drunk. I didn't have one ounce of alcohol in me, but I was lightheaded, my limbs felt very fuzzy and disconnected, it was hard to focus my eyes quickly, and everything was getting funnier. A lot funnier. For a while I tried to see if I could keep a straight face. But the more we zoomed around, the more I realized I better tell Cullen what was going on, or he'd start wondering why I couldn't walk in a straight line and was giggling at nothing in particular. It was as if my tiredness gave up on making me drowsy and went straight for loopy.

On the drive back to his sister's house, I cracked, and we ended up screaming in laughter for a good ten minutes over a mildly funny pun about Jedis.

The second half of the drive is much shorter (about 4-5 hours) but it's much more of a drain, since the landscape doesn't change. You're constantly heading through barren desert toward mountains that don't get any closer for a good few hours. We eventually got into California and headed up to Ventura to meet up with the manager to sign our lease and grab our keys. We ended up meeting him in a weird little pastry shop that only had two tables.

From then on it was a whirlwind of cleaning, making to-do lists, more cleaning, moving stuff out of storage, realizing the stuff in storage is covered in mouse poop, throwing out a mouse-poop-couch, taking a giant red sofa off of our upstairs neighbor's hands, spending 20 minutes trying to get that giant sofa actually into the apartment, buying 15 yards of fabric and stapling it to our billion windows, and eating a lot of thai food.

So far, so good.

Now to find a job.

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