poogene's a homo... -ner!

hmmmm. so. it's done. been off the blog for a while because i've spent the last week or so moving into my new apartment that i just recently purchased. i wouldn't have even writ today had i not been pushed to do so by jenk. so yes. i own an apartment now. it's done and it's kinda a big endeavor i guess... 7th street between avenue C & D. and it's beautiful. beautiful courtyards, roof views, gorgeous street lined with trees, great storage, humongazoid kitchen, and surprise bonus features keep popping out. my mom noticed that when you take a shower and look out the window, it doesn't even look like new york, it looks more like iguazu falls - swear to god...

i love the new poogene adobe... now then. i got the keys last tuesday and my wrecking crew (jb, momo, my mother) have been going to town and i owe them sooo much. we have knocked down a wall, tore down some sheet rock to expose some brick, painted the living room and kitchen, packed, moved, cleaned, unpacked, organized, bought couches, rugs, coffee tables.....

so... to my wrecking crew and especially my mother who yells at contractors for me, buys me shit, goes to bed at 2am falling asleep while scrubbing my kitchen with a toothbrush only to wake up at 6am to ask me what drawer i am going to put my socks in so she can start organizing it while telling me that i need to eat good meals, i need to save money, and i need to settle down, and that i dress funnier than my relatives that are in high school...

i love you wrecking crew. i love you jbrecognize, i love you momocito, i love you mom. i love you so fucking much.

i dunno. i can be an extremely active hoss- ass i wouldn't call myself lazy at all. i can go for months on a schedule of going to work for 9 hours, follwed by 4-5 hours of rehearsal, followed by 90 minutes of gym. i can do this everyday for like 5 months. i leave the house to go to work at 9:30am and get back from the gym at around 1:00am, not having even stopped to eat, not even taking weekends off. butt when it comes to this manual labor i'm at a loss. my mom finally left yesterday morning, and without direction of where to put my books, it seems with even with all my superpowers all i could do was just smoke a cigarette and stare at my books for like 2 hours. it was an astonishing display of immobilization and surprisingly unfruitful.

hmm... maybe i'll try and stare a bit harder. i've no idear.

hey do you guys remember way back when, when we were all young and gay- that century 21 (real estate, not discount store) commercial where the black family is able to buy their first house ever because she was helped by some century 21 white lady real estate agent? yeah well, the black lady that bought the house was crying because you know she's black and she's not ever supposed to own a house or something and i remember watching it as a yute and i started crying with the lady thinking ohhh that's so beautiful, what a wonderful story... century 21 is like nelson mandela or some shit...
well how come i own my own house now and i ain't crying yet??!?

dude! i am like the biggest drama queen i know. that meaningless story of a childhood memory was just to display the kinda sensitive guy i am... (ya got that ladies? sensitive) i mean like i just bought a house and i wanna be straight up bawling!!!

it's weird, i can be a very emotional kinda fellow butt honestly, i don't get affected by the epic things that happen to me in life. i always say maybe it hasn't hit me yet whenever these monumental events occur, butt dude... my best and closest friend since i was five years old, the closest guy to me in the whole world besides me mutha- died 9 years ago... shouldn't that have hit me by now?

anushow, i bought a house (apartment) and i wanna get so emotional and cry like the black lady on the century 21 commercial. ever since i saw that commercial like 26 years ago... since that fateful day, i have been waiting (26 years mind you) for that day of when i would buy my house and stand on my front lawn and just cry senselessly having to finally just bury my head into the chest of my black husband who would then wrap his muscular arms around me and console me whilst drops of sentiment from his eye would be streaming down his cheek as well...

well. that dream didn't really happen like i planned it... butt in the immortal words of willie d... damn it feels good to be a gangster

co-op boards are another story and another entry on another day...

although my house isn't on the market any longer, it's always an open house for the entire world. come by and see it and witness another step in the maturation of eugene the poogene.

i shoulda posted pics of the apartment in this post, butt my computer at home ain't setup.

i am a pretty happy poogene right now though...