Everything is awesome. I won't keep you in suspense- straight to the breakdown:

Sam moved in for good this weekend. Which, admittedly, I thought was horrible because now I have to wear pants around the house. But as it turns out, it's totally awesome. Last night, as I was brushing my teeth and chatting with him, he started to talk about Manfred Mann's Earth Band, and have I ever heard the song "Wrapped Up Like a Douche." I decided that we are going to get along just fine. Later that night, he played playstation for an hour. Which I would normally get upset about (since it really just cuts into my Tony Hawk time), but I was definitely concerned that I alone was going have the role of "House Games Junkie." This way, I feel less bad about the time I spend (idiocy loves company, you see. It's why online games are so popular).


In pretty much any apartment I've ever had (present living arrangements included) the water coming out of the tap is a strange milky-white color. Now, I'm not much of a water drinker (I generally go with apple juice and the occasional can of diet coke), so it doesn't bother me that much. But I can't tell you how many times I've had the following conversation:

Guest: Can I have a glass of water?

Ken: Sure. Here you go.

Guest: Why is it this strange milky-white color?

Ken: Oh, don't worry about that. It's fine, just let it settle.

Guest: OK.

Now, I feel really bad everytime I have this conversation, because clearly not everything is fine with the drink I just gave them. Water is a very simple compound, and IS CLEAR. Any type of water that is not clear cannot strictly be called water, and should not be drank. Drunk. Drinkened. Whatever. You know what could make water that color? Arsenic. My point is that Sam moving in comes up huge because he brought a Brita water filter, which saves me from lying to my friends and potentially endangering their lives. So, another point for Sam.

And as if that weren't enough, last night he brought me into his room and showed me the two Sprite bottles of absinthe that he smuggled in from the Czech Republic last year. Which, in addition to being really funny, is (as stated above) awesome. My only previous interaction with absinthe was at a bar in Prague. It was at a bar called the De Sade, and I saw Juliana Margulies. At least, I think I did. I'm the first to admit that I am certainly not the most reliable witness from that night. Unfortunately, my travelling companions have the same limited believability.

There are a bunch of other things, but that's just about the top of the list (barring one thing). Oh, he also brought utensils, which is awesome. And golf clubs. Which isn't as awesome, but I thought you should know. But really the best thing of all is something which (as far as I know) Sam isn't directly responsible for. I woke up this morning at my usual time and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Therein, I had the most incredible experience yet. The water pressure from my showerhead (which I have mentioned before was tolerable at best, and at worst enough to drive a man into wailing fits of despair) was as great as any I have experienced. Water with the force of running trains rained down from the showerhead. Liquid that remembered that it is part of the earths water cycle, and is of the same stripe as that which makes up the tumultuous seas and mighty oceans. Hot, strong, blissfully relaxing water that had heard of restraint but wanted no truck with it.

I like to think I'm a strong man. I bore the death of my cat with scarce a ripple. When The Ben Stiller show was canceled, I was resolute. Even when Archive's follow up album to Londinium was a steaming pile of donkey dung, I was not brought to outward signs of emotion. But I'll state here, before my audience of thousands ones, that when the water fell onto my face, it mingled with my tears of joy.