Weird

You know what's weird?

That I have found myself walking behind not one, not two, but three separate people in the past three days that have been smoking cigars on the street.

I mention this because the downstream smoke from a cigar is horrid.

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You know what else is weird?

I saw a guy the other day who looked just like Master P. I was so convinced it was him, until I remembered that Master P. is really tall, and this guy was only like 5'10''.

On the way to work this morning, after walking behind a dude smoking a cigar, I saw a guy who looked just like Mystikal! It wasn't him, though.

I haven't seen any rappers since moving to NYC.

D saw Redman once from his apartment window. I was jealous.

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You know what's even more weird?

D was insecure for the first time ever yesterday and it made me really sad, but also, in some weird and deranged way, it made me feel good to know that he thinks about things.

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You know what else is weird?

I just got really outbid on something on EBay and I am devastated.

Why am I devastated? It's not like I needed that adorable pick laptop bag!

But I did really want it for $4.95.

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Also weird was this dream I had last night, in which D and I moved into this immense house that was fully furnished. We were not allowed to bring anything into the apartment other than clothes. I complained to the landlord "I can't live under these conditions! I want my own furniture! I want to hang things on the wall! This furniture is absurd!"

D wasn't as distressed.

The house was part of an apartment complex that was basically loft space in a converted barn (yes, a barn) and for some reason the entire apartment would tilt once an hour. I can't even explain it. Something to do with the reindeer that were being kept in the only portion of the barn that remained a barn.

The landlord said "You'll get used to it."

"No, I won't!" I yelled. "Nor will I get used to sleeping in a twin bed!"

"You can push them together," she said.

"But we have two beds outside in the truck. You mean to tell me we can't bring either of them in here?" I asked.

"No, sorry."

"But what about D's memory foam?"

"He'll get used to it."

"We are collectors of art!" I lied. "We have an extensive collection that we would like to hang."

"You can't."

"D, we're minimalists! We can't live like this! We can't live in this clutter!!! There's no empty space!!!!"

"But its so big," he said, in awe.

"Who cares? It's like being a prisoner!"

I walked down to the apartments on the first floor. A lavish party was being hosted in one of them. I let myself in and saw that this apartment was furnished way cooler than ours. Ours was very rustic and country-like. Lots of plaid and yellow walls and wood. This one wouldn't have been out of place in New York City. The people at the party were very fashionable and funky. I asked the owner "How did you get this apartment? You got way better furniture that I did!"

The owner said "Honey, just sneak. Little by little. One piece a day. They won't even realize!" She pointed to some art that was hanging from the ceiling. "They never look up," she said. "They never look."

I suppose its not that weird. I am trying to figure out a New Life Plan that will allow me to live in New York City forever.

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More later.