First of all, let me say huge. In fact, let me say: HUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGE. In fact, let me say HUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGEHUGE. Awesome awesome. Huge.

Thanks for letting me get that out of my system. I appreciate it. Why am I so psyched? Well, lots of reasons. Today is Halloween, and Halloween rocks my socks straight clear off my feet. Even though I'm a total tool and aren't doing anything this year, I still stand by my belief that Halloween is the coolest holiday. It gives me an excuse to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre without feeling like I should be watching Happiness, or seeing Amelie without falling asleep (I know, I know. I'm a jerk for falling asleep watching Amelie. But it was 4 in the morning, and warm under the blankets, and I don't need to justify my actions to you people anyway. Get off my back). And there's lots of candy everywhere that you can just take (that fat kid shouldn't be out collecting it anyway). And people dress up in costume. Every day should be Halloween. Which reminds me that Halloween also means that I can listen to Type O Negative all day and not feel like an ass. In fact, I'm putting on their version of Summer Breeze right now. Awww, yeah.

I saw Type O at Ozzfest a few years ago. The whole experience was so crazy, from buying the tickets to leaving the show. First of all (and I realize that this is something of a digression, but that's what we're here for), it was seriously metal. I mean, seriously metal. Sean and I were the only people online for tickets that weren't carrying belt knives. And I'm convinced that we were part of a select few that had a full complement of chromosones. Trapped between hardcore Pantera fans and old-school Sabbath junkies, the two of us were only able to survive armed as we were with Seans exhaustive knowledge of all things musical and my charming personality. The show itself was actually one of the best I've been to (Pantera, Marilyn Manson, Type O, the original cast of Black Sabbath. I'm not a huge metal fan, but when the sirens went off and Ozzy started into War Pigs, something occured that was well beyond the pale of my experience before and since. It was freaking amazing. And chicks took their tops off, which doesn't happen at the types of shows I generally attend).

Why else am I psyched? Yesterday I signed the lease for my new place. So huge. Moving in this weekend (probably Saturday). Sleeping on the floor. Or an inflatable mattress that I haven't returned to a friend of mine. It's a toss up which is more comfortable. I am so excited I can barely remain in my pants. Admittedly, I have something of a problem remaining in my pants in the best of circumstances, but still. I do have some concerns - whether or not to get cable (I don't really want to, but my roommate does), when to have my house-warming party, etc. But the thing I'm most worried about is how the hell I'm going to decorate. I don't have much of an eye (if making ones personal space look nice was superpowers, I'd be Aquaman). Worse than that, I have a bunch of friends who are really good at that sort of thing, and I'm far too proud to ask for help. So the only useful role they're going to end up playing is making disapproving noises when they come and take a look. But really, I see nothing wrong with velvet paintings. I think they're charming.

In any case, Ben is helping me schlep my stuff on Saturday. I assume he's going to bring his camera (Ben, you reading this?) so if anything funny happens (I get a couch stuck in a door, I'm crushed by my entertainment center, etc) we'll have some photographic evidence. I'll keep you up. Also, did that Aquaman analogy work? Email me