I was thoroughly disturbed that a jury aquitted Robert Durst of murder. Oh, I�m sorry, were you not following the case?
Robert Durst is this millionaire from New York. He decided that the heat from the media was too much with regard to his wife who went missing in 1982, so he posed as a mute woman to rent this dump of an apartment somewhere. Basically, he up and disappeared.
Well, it turns out that over the years, he became friends with his neighbor, and according to everyone�s favorite butcher, the neighbor got abusive toward him. Robert told his neighbor to go away and never bother him again, but the neighbor didn�t listen and decided to break into Robert�s apartment.
They struggled with a gun, it went off, yada yada yada.
However, instead of calling the police, according to Robert Durst, he decided, in his brilliant drug-induced mind, that it would be easier to dismember his �friend� and throw him in the river. Apparently, he cried while doing it.
Uh huh.
I don�t care what kind of �if the glove don�t fit� mentality his lawyers brainwashed the jury with, the man�s wife went missing, he posed as a mute woman, and then he dismembered the guy that he �accidentally� shot. He�s guilty as sin.
Not only that, but the guy jumped bail twice with regard to the crime. Obviously, he has nothing to hide.
Now, just as a reminder to y�all [yikes, too much time in Florida], if you decide that you want to kill someone, either do it in New York or California, because especially gullible and stupid people live there, and chances are, if you put something shiny in front of their eyes, they will acquit you.
Moving on�..
I keep thinking about moving. It�s driving me crazy. My mother and stepfather picked up my couch while I was out of town this weekend [very nice of them], but for some unknown reason, they put it in the family room instead of the garage. Not only that, but they put the couch so that it was facing toward a wall [you can�t even sit on the damn thing], so it has become some kind of playground for the cats.
However, the placement of the couch has obviously gotten to my mom. She has asked me repeatedly if B is going to help us move it out to the garage. Now, I know that he will [because he�s just so easy-going like that], but why in the hell didn�t they put it there in the first place? And why does she keep asking me about it? I realize that she�s anxious to get her space back, but bugging me about it isn�t going to make time go by any faster. If she could find a way to make time go faster, I�d let her go to town.
I was thinking about how I would spend my first night in my apartment. Chances are, I�m going to spend it passed out in my bed, without even the sheets on it, in exhaustion. Every time that I�ve moved in the past few years, I�ve gotten virtually no sleep before hand, I�ve had to move at the crack of dawn, and unpacking is vigorous work. That day is literally going to be the day from hell.
First of all, we have to load up the truck, unload the truck, move all sorts of heavy furniture, put it in my apartment. Once the furniture/box moving is completed, away goes my mother and for the next few hours, all I�ll have to do is unpack. I also have to wait around for the cable guy. Somehow, in all of this, I have to find time to get to the grocery store for the grocery trip from hell [the first trip is ALWAYS the worst]. I�m going to, inevitably, forget something ridiculously important [such as a shower curtain], and I�m going to be wayyyyyyyy too tired to get out the brand new [and also must be washed first] cooking gear.
Bandit, of course, is going to be in some kind of a panic because he�s getting thrown into yet another new environment. I�m going to be hot. I�m going to be sticky. I�m going to be cranky. I�m going to be hungry. What do you think the chances are that I�m going to want to do anything like pop a bottle of champagne? Yeah, slim to none.
Hence why if my mother can come up with a way of making time move faster, painful or not, I�m all ears to it.
Where in the hell is my new phone dammit?
