Christ, everything hurts. I have discovered muscles I didn't even know existed because they hurt like a mother. I pretty much feel like a pack of wild dogs suddenly grew opposable thumbs and learned to wield baseball bats by beating me like Amy Winehouse. I have ankle splints, for tit's sake!
But at least I'm moved now, thanks to the help of my hoss friends. And lucky us, we got to meet one of my new neighbors, Gladiola. We bumped into her in the hallway that bears an uncanny resemblance to the ones in Stephen King's The Shining as we were hauling all of my crap in. Yeah, she's about 85 and smells like a potpourri basket, but she kicks serious ass and is totally bangin'.
I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm gonna see a ton of wrinkled old ass at the pool being as I'm one of the three people I've seen so far younger than the Crypt Keeper. But fuck it, right? Because who really wants to sit around in the midst of a bunch of bikinied hard bodies when you could sip mint juleps with catty old bitches whilst wearing enormous sunglasses and turbans? WAY more fun, in my opinion!
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