Box. Box. BOX.

Last evening after work, the pleasure of coming home truly settled in. The frigid ocean winds blew through criss-crossed Sunset streets and I had to grip the steering wheel just a little tighter than normal to keep my wheels tracking properly. Our watchful gargoyle grinned down at my futile efforts to gather more books than I could possibly carry up the front stairs, but it wasn’t entirely malicious grinning. There was some mirth involved, but only he knows exactly to what extent.

Stumbling over polygonal shapes of boxes both intact and crushed, splayed out and shredded, we bounded up and down the back stairs attempting to set up the very connection I used to transfer these words to your hungry, tired, or sexy eyes. After our lifesaving tech sacrificed hours of his time and did a sound job, I cracked open the PowerBook to do a bit of Warstumbling about just in case there were any wireless geeks in this part of the city.

Right in front of the fireplace, I became an Internet Thief, and there would I remain for the extent of the evening, only broken by the clarion call of the mighty Home Box Office fisticuff special. I should have known that virtually the entire city was wired, though being a weak signal, we’ll still have to set up our own node – with pleasure.

And the housemates came home and settled in and noshed and placed things upon their walls, and the television belted out five pugilistic bouts until we were all gathered around the warm glow, cracking jokes, wincing with every punch…but watching intently just the same. It’s been some time since this has happened, and never in this capacity. I mean, there’s nothing in the cavernous front room, but we have the Fights, and teh Intarweb, and a massive oaken drybar full of whisky.

I mean, really. The unpacking simply needed to wait for a night.

8 Responses to “Box. Box. BOX.”

  1. marasca Says:
    December 5th, 2004 at 11:27 am

    Can't our eyes be hungry, tired and sexy?

  2. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 7th, 2004 at 5:44 pm

    Absolutely. Absolutely. A glaring omission on my part.

  3. no_mans_land Says:
    December 5th, 2004 at 1:20 pm

    <small>NICE choice of music. alison cooing the chorus makes my heart flutter. everything she touches turns to gold [or maybe sapphires — they're cooler. heh.]</small>

  4. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 7th, 2004 at 5:45 pm

    Oh, yes. She can be my alchemist anytime.
    You know what ahm-a-talkin' bout.

  5. bates_motel Says:
    December 6th, 2004 at 6:56 am

    And by "fisticuff special" you mean "Old tired jukin-n-jivin' sad sack of man gets worked on by the new upstart." Right?

  6. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 7th, 2004 at 5:47 pm

    Man, I was sickened by Joppy's non-effort, and saddened that his corner didn't threaten him with stopping the fight if he continued being an ass.

  7. thistlelurid Says:
    December 6th, 2004 at 9:48 am

    ::pops out peepers and glue sticks them to the screen::

  8. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 7th, 2004 at 5:47 pm

    …or Yum!
    I'm not quite sure.

Leave a Reply