So yeah, here I am in my empty apartment with a computer and a bed. And that's pretty much it.

I'm a lameass. I moved everything I own into my new apartment except the one thing I need in order to stay there full time (My bed, nimrods, I know I'm on the computer a lot but let's give the big Beej SOME credit, eh?)

But I digress. Not to turn the hilarity into metacognition, but I guess being alone in a big empty apartment with nothing around makes a guy get introspective and realize that in the long run, he is a small person in a large world, and that there is more to life than the inside of an apartment. He does not need the constant chatter of a television or the persistent howl of a radio. People can get so much more out of a real conversation with a real, tangible person than with a voice over a telephone line or text on a computer monitor. And movies, while they are entertaining, show a person nothing more than the same incredible things he could find if he walked outside, took a deep breath and looked for something to do outside the four walls of a dingy bedroom. And I think my day with none of those petty electronics has given me a new attitude on life and provided me with a newfound independence from the things that take more away from life than they provide.

Either that or it's given me a chance to masturbate a whole hell of a lot and sleep until 4 in the afternoon.

Either way, I feel fulfilled and prepared to plunge into my new life... life with a roommate. I know, don't warn me, I've heard all the warning signs (Don't move in with friends, you'll hate each other; hide your valuables - even the best people you think you know may steal; stop peeing with the door open; take down your shrine to Don Knotts above your bed - that may weird your roomate out; etc., etc.)

See, that stuff doesn't worry me. I have more common sense than all that, and that kind of stuff doesn't really intrude on my lifestyle. I'm worried about my regular habits that will have to stop whether I like it or not.

For example, while living by myself I liked to hop through the shower, get out in just a robe or a towel, go to the living room without getting dressed, plop down on the couch, and watch Win Ben Stein's Money buck naked while scratching myself. But can I do that now? Noooooooo! See, my roommate doesn't want to pay for cable, so we don't have Comedy Central in the new place. So there goes that tradition. I guess I'll have to do that with Ricki Lake instead.

I guess I'm just sad because I'm leaving a lot of good neighbors here that I won't see again. Marge, the old lady below me, who always baked me cookies and lemon bars and told me about her latest medical ailments. Vern, the maintainance guy, who was tougher than nails and always drinking beer with eighteen year old kids. Billy, the guy who lived in #10 and told me I needed to learn to skate and that was final as he sipped on his beer and looked like he was about to ralph all over my shoes before he went off to the bar to get more. The perverted chick downstairs who giggled incessantly when I told her I was making a film in my apartment and asked me seductively, "What kind of film?" while she tried to look all sexy checking her mail. My other downstairs neighbor who despite all his suspicions, never knew that the water leaking into his apartment was from MY TOILET BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!... but enough of the Uncle Bob laugh. I'll miss those guys.

So goodbye, old apartment... Goodbye, bleach and fake blood stains on my carpet (And thus goodbye security deposit)... Goodbye poster mount shit that I just can't manage to scrape off the walls... Goodbye neighbors... Goodbye rental fridge with sticky goop inside the door of the freezer... G'night John Boy...

Goodbye, first year away from home...

Goodbye, very first place...

Goodbye, last year of my life...

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*sniff*...

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*FART*!!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!