a Montreal Gator, just trying to find his way: The First Week: never doing this again?

So I needed to figure out a way of starting this thing tonight, because there's too much swirling through my mind. (I also need to find another word to begin my sentences with; there's got to be a grammar book out there somewhere that disagrees with "so").
I thought an appropriate way would be to begin with something that totally disagrees with my theme of the week: something I'll definitely repeat in the future --> cheerios with a wooden spoon. You see, you need to keep the O's at the front of the spoon because your oral cavity (ew) is not deep enough (ew) to fit the whole thing in (that's what she said). That challenge alone is enough to merit another experience. Also, the identical color of the spoon and the cheerios makes it so that, if you cross your eyes, you think you're eating cheerios with a spoon made of cheerios! (Or that you're eating a bowl full of wooden spoons with said wooden spoon.)
Seconds please!

Anyway, I digress. Back to more important things like the apartment. I'd like to introduce you all to Furniture Piece #2: Floor Lamp. Floor Lamp was purchased as a compliment to the dark furniture I planned on..... DAMMIT.

Ok. Theme of the week: "never doing this again" There are many things I don't think I'll ever repeat. Let's start with not blogging for 5 days after moving to a new city. When you lack human contact beyond curt nods, even the monotonous waiter who doesn't know the difference between a gluten free meal and one that's low in calories seems like Steve Irwin; eating fish for dinner feels like you're LIVING an episode of Shark Week; even taking the bus feels like a Disney adventure. My standards have definitely been lowered. That being said, I feel like I have too much to write about. I hope I meet some REALLY exciting people to readjust my metric for awesomeness.

Next thing I'll never do again: move into a second floor apartment and buy a 6000 pound couch. Nope, never again, not ever. Not even if you paid me in over-inflated gold. "Just rent a Uhaul," they said. "We'll hold it for 30 days," they assured me.
Oh. My. Gosh. How gracious of them to let me transport my own couch!
I'll remember them forever.
Here are the thoughts that went through my head, you tell me if they make sense:
1. Purchase the couch, have the store hold it.
2. Rent a Uhaul with the parents, pick it up ourselves.
3. Rent an appliance dolly (extended handles). Allllll goood right?
4. Roll it up the stairs on the dolly, and then just get mom and dad to help me turn it sideways to get it through the door.
Airtight.
Foolproof.
Guaranteed.
No worries, mate.
Right?

WRONG. More wrong than Christopher Walken at an elementary school.
(just kidding, I love that guy).

Idea #1 was fine, and so was idea #2. It's at idea #3 things started to go wrong. The dolly sucked. Oh look, a perfect segway into idea #4: you know what also sucks? The stairs and railing outside my door. The only way to get the couch at an angle able to go through the door was to suspend it 18 feet in the air over the railing (under which REAL humans walk every day!). Not to mention having to do so with arms extended, ligaments tearing, and heart exploding.

Don't worry, enthralled readers. I was spared this agony, and the eventual death it would have led to, by an angel. A guardian angel. A Peruvian guardian angel. A Peruvian guardian angel sporting six-pack abs, a barrel chest, and biceps for days. Not only did he walk by at the EXACT moment we opened up the Uhaul and offer to help move EVERYTHING, he did so wearing only pyjama pants. Now don't get the wrong impression ladies, he's unavailable because of a relationship and a child, not because I have a crush on him (although it may sound like it). But I will have you know, walking around flashing your guns automatically signs you up for "Team Help-Farid-Move-The-Couch". And move the couch we did! However, let's get one thing clear: it was NOT all butterflies and puppies and Aladdin coloring books. We did so with blood, sweat, and a few tears. The couch did, for a moment, hang over that spot where people walk, I now have carpal tunnel syndrome, and I believe The Angel has leather burns on his palms. But the couch now sits comfortably behind me none the worse for wear, INSIDE the apartment. I sincerely believe that if an angel hadn't descended from apartment 84 at that exact moment, the focal point of my living room would be sitting on the grass outside for all to enjoy.

You may have noticed I've metioned my parents a few times as if they're close by. THEY ARE. They got here Monday!!! WOOOOOOOOHHOOOO!
BRAP!
BRAP!
BRAP!
That leads me to another thing I'll never do again: move away from home without immediately bringing them with me. The obvious question you're all thinking right now: Farid, what the hell are you talking about? Let me explain.
I flew to Gainesville Wednesday, August 10th. They arrived Monday, August 15th. In the five days before they got here, what did I accomplish? I bought a shower curtain with frogs on it; I bought a bendable hamper and got hit in the face with it; I bought a wooden spoon as my first utensil.
What's been done since they got here? The entire apartment is now fully furnished (including assembly), the kitchen is fully stocked (cupboards and fridge), bank/phone/internet have all been set up.
Conclusion: I make a better tourist than I do resident/I'm a wandering space cadet and my parents are Houston, Ground Control.

In other news: It was Papa Saad's birthday yesterday! What did we do to celebrate, you ask?
We assembled furniture.

Perfect.

But seriously, having them down here is a blessing. After the novelty of living out of a hotel room off bar food wore off, the bare walls in my apartment and a serious lack of friends started to suck. Not having to leave all of home behind all at once is probably my salvation at this point. If it wasn't for them, this apartment would have never fixed itself and this place wouldn't feel like a home. Let's just say they're making this transition logistically, and more important, emotionally bearable.
Mom, Dad, you're welcome to sleep on my couch anytime.

That being said, check out this cool restaurant we went to tonight. It's a better version of the failed Zyng on Sources.

On a very serious note, I apologize for the formatting of this page, photos and all. These pictures are more stubborn than an Amish on the threshold of a Best Buy.

What else have I done this week? About four or five orientations, all of them boring (but I must admit, quite informative). I've accumulated a Dwight Howard-size stack of paper made up of bank statements, warranties, pamphlets, and receipts from every furniture and hardware store in Gainesville. (Nice reference, I know) Git'r'done. Ummmmmm..... I've sweat a lot? Yah, until the storms yesterday, the humidex pushed the mercury up to 44 celsius. I'm glad I'm here for school during a time when it gets "cold". Speaking of cold, the International Student website advises all students that winter clothing is appropriate as temperatures have been known to drop to 5 or 10 degrees celsius in winter. Brrrrrr.
Fuck off.
Look for me in Bermudas on the 9th hole in January.

That being said, goodnight to you all. I'll probably post some melancholic, philosophically insightful piece Sunday night. It'll only be fitting as I start class Monday morning and that sort of thing just seems appropriate. In the meantime, check out these dope-ass pictures of my campus. Whenever it gets too cold this winter, just scroll back and pretend you're here.

-Montreal Gator