I think based on the way I’m handling the upcoming lease signing for my new place I am never going to be able to get married. I had nightmares all night about how the unit I looked at wasn’t the unit they actually let me move into and the unit I moved into was located in the slums of Rio and didn’t have locks on the doors. So I called my landlord this morning all: HELLO I THINK YOU HAVE LIED TO ME ABOUT MY UNIT AND I DON’T WANT TO MOVE IN ANYMORE. And she was like: Just… stop. So we’re going to look at it again in an hour to ensure that I am, in fact, insane.
Can’t you just see me on my wedding day? UHHHHH I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE NO THANK YOU.
Anyway, the only reason I’m really getting cold feet is because I’m not so sure I can handle such tight quarters with Ralph and Weaz.
Ralph is offended.
I’m trying to convince myself that I can be all NYC cool / IKEA shabby-chic in my tiny little open-air studio apartment in hipster’s paradise. But really I just know I’m going to be covered in cat hair and won’t know where to put the litter boxes. Shmmmmeh.
Speaking of cat hair… This cat won the Guinness World Record for longest cat hair. (Ralphie is disputing the claim.)
And here is Oliver wearing aviators with his hair parted on the side.
Wish me luck on the apt. I will undoubtedly change my mind a few (hundred) more times.