This is the move that doesn't end. It just goes on and ...
The move continues. It's 10:30 A-fucking-M, I'm awake, hung over, tweaking all to hell, and the brakes on the Truck are grinding like cheap coffee beans. I tell you what, there's really nothing like moving 3 households of stuff out of a 2nd-floor apt in the middle of the day when you're hung over and tweaking like Beevis, still exhausted from the previous night's revelry, and wondering exactly when the brakes are going to give out. Good times! Good times. Fun Fact: Did you know that Das Ich is pronounced Das-each! for some damned reason. Don't those Germans know how to speak English?

The new house is tres cool, pre-wired with redundant (that means 2 lines per room, for all the illiterate folks reading this) cat5e lines to all the bedrooms, which meet up in a A/C'd server closet! (the cat-5, not the bedrooms) Even the internal phone lines are done in 5e, just because it's inherently cooler than rj-14 or whatever the hell regular 'ole phone line is called. We moved some schtuff in a few days ago, after breaking in to the new place with a push-knife. Truly an omen if ever there was one; should I be afraid? As it should be. The house has electric and water, but no phone service yet 'cause the oh-so-cool cat-5e phone lines are just hanging out the side of the house all sad and lonely, instead of being nicely nestled into cozy new BellSouth j-box.

OK, time to get back to work.
...
But first, the whores!