Helping Friends Move

WARNING! Some of these images may be graphic!!! And they were all taken with a camera phone so I'll apologize in advance for the poor quality.

Never, and I mean NEVER again will I help someone move up to a third story apartment. I often get asked to help move because I have a truck. It's one of the bad things about having a truck. However, in this case, Young Blood didn't need my truck. He just needed a body he could abuse for a few hours.

Truck-wise, he had us covered. He works for a company that happens to have several large trucks. This one, here, had a crane attached to the back of it. Did we use the crane? You betcha! No fooking around here! Got a 300lb entertainment center to move? Get it close enough to the edge so we could get the crane to it and stick it on the truck. Did it freak the neighbors out seeing us moving furniture? Probably, but we weren't there long!

Unfortunately, when we got to his new place there was no way to maneuver the crane up to the third floor balcony so we ended up doing the old fashioned way by killing ourselves. I think Hopper got the worst of it, though. The worst thing we had to move was this stupid armoire that must have weight more than Oprah during one of her yo-yo eating binges. We didn't have a good hand-truck. All we had was a cheesy little dolly that might as well have been made out of Lego's for all the good it did us.

So up three flights of stairs, and as luck would have it, there wasn't enough room on the landings to rotate the thing appropriately so we all pretty much strained, stretched, or broke something trying to get it moved around. Hopper, got stuck underneath the thing and Young Blood and I picked it up and moved it not realizing he was in a bad spot and it crushed him into the wall. All of a sudden this nearly in-human sound came out of Hopper. It sounded something like a cross between a walrus, and a hound-dog in heat. Needless to say YB and I lost it and were laughing our asses off. Hopper is still making noises, but by now the more noise he makes the more we are cracking up. At one point, I literally couldn't breathe and had tears rolling down my face. The whole time we are trying to tell him to STFU! so we can regain our composure and get the thing off of him, but we can't because we are laughing too hard. We finally got it off of him, up the stairs, and into the apartment. My knee was not too happy after that, but it's feeling pretty good again today!

YB says he should be there at least a year. As long as they don't jack up his rent to bad, he'll sign again. That's nice....and I really don't care because he'll be on his own next time.

Now, here are some pics of stuff I've only ever seen on the Internet. It's pictures from YB's room mate's room. These pics were not staged or edited in any way. Trust me, I tried not to touch ANYTHING. And you can't even imagine the smell.... OMG! It was horrible. Again, it's from a camera phone. My amazement is that someone could actually LIVE like this. YB isn't like this and aside from the usual accoutrement's of stuff in his apartment, I'd have never known this other guy was there. I'll spare you the graphic details of what all I saw while in there. You can probably draw your own conclusions.

Can you say ick? This guy wonders why he is single.