Moving Day

So I went to help my boy, Big Country, move a "few" things out of his house. He told me that there were only a few things left, so me being admittedly lazy until my internship starts, said ok.

We get there; there is a huge bed, washer, dryer, big desk, and assorted boxes. I natural southern male bondin I gave him shit about it the whole time. "Damn just a few things, disclaimer should have said they weighed at least 80 pounds each." I was funny, all the guys helpin ragged on each other and it was a great day. Then Big Country wanted to treat us for dinner, but all we had left to move was the washer and dryer. Again the southern gentleman wisdom shone through. I told him ain't no work gonna get done if you feed us before we're done movin.

So we compromised and ate after we loaded the washer and dryer in the truck, at an undisclosed buffet style restaurant. Ya'll can see where this is goin. We upheld everything our momma's used to say about cleanin our plates and we did just that a few times over. Afterward we drive to his new place and smoke a cigarette while we stare at the laundry machines. We finnaly get the gumption to get them inside and it takes us twice as long because of the need for breaks, we all had full bellies
to say the least.

Immediately following our job's completion we all shook hands, parted ways, and went home to drink beer and watch the Braves' game with our new catcher, with the longest last name in MLB history, Saltalamacchia. Its a mouthful I know. GO BRAVES!!