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I was wrong.

Don't be alarmed! It happens sometimes.

Mitchell's daycare had a Holiday ditty last month for all of the parents. Each age group had their own show planned and practiced. Mitchell is in the toddler group. There are about eight or nine toddlers. The plan was to march them down through the aisle - past all the parents, mind you - and keep these toddler's in one place and, as a single adorable little troupe, sing two songs complete with props and hand gestures. Every bullet point to this presentation posed the possibility of the entire thing crashing and burning; A spectacle that myths are made of.

Mitchell was Mr. Crabbypants the night of the show. Actually, he was being a b*#$%y little prima donna - forgive me, but it's true. From getting him dressed to trying to get him into the car seat he fought us every step of the way. I was frazzled, Sarah was frazzled. And to the added pressure Gramma and Grampa and Mitchell's aunties were driving across town to come witness this sure-to-be Epic Failure.

The following empirical evidence proves otherwise. Thanks to Grandpa J for the stellar cinematography and interwebs know how.

The walls are laughing at you.

Our new place is legit. It's still classified as an apartment, yes, but the extra 400 sq. feet is totally awesome and gives Mitchell the much-needed space to romp around like he owns the joint. The apartment also comes with a huge balcony, of which - weather permitting - I do intend to sit upon and read every word and twisted idea ever written by Alistair Reynolds. It is also on this very balcony that I will lock in my family, face the cool evening breeze and muse, ponder and fill every inch of the blank notebook I just bought with chicken scratch, jibberjabber and nonsense. It will be glorious.

But that is then - this is now. It's time for more pressing matters. Part of the appeal of the new apartment is the vaulted ceiling in the living room and the extra sense of space it gives. Oh, baby, it's great.

The only downside is that our back living room wall is enormous - ENORMOUS! The dimensions of this flatland come to 22 feet long and 12 feet high. These numbers have been rounded up to the nearest foot for the purpose of slightly exaggerating just how big of a beast we're dealing with. While this may not be a big deal to some, the Jonses see it as a daunting blank canvas; something that taunts us, giggles at us saying "find a creative and stylish way to decorate me! MWA HA HA HA!!" Indeed, to just leave the wall naked would drive me batty. Batty I tell you!

So what's the solution? With a surface area this huge we're going to have to think outside of the box.

Sarah speaks of buying groovy fabric patterns to mount onto plywood or something thereof, thus creating big mural-type wall hangings. This is a good idea because it would definitely spice up the room and would also serve as an acoustic dampener.

My boyfriend Chrismack had the totally awesome idea that totally blew my mind. He suggested that we should turn the wall into a floor. Like, mount furniture in a way that it gives the sense that you're looking from the top down. Immediately, I thought it would be super sweet to make a bowling alley. Or maybe an oldskool arcade. Or maybe a disco dance floor. Or maybe a reversed and mirror image of our living room!! How far down the rabbit hole can this go?

Here's my idea. It's awesome and the best one yet. Take the following picture and enlarge it to the appropriate dimensions:

Now, one may be compelled to ask: Why? Is this really necessary?

Why? WHY!? I'll tell you why! Because it's frikkin CREEDENCE, that's why! Of course it's necessary - DUH! When something is as vital to your existence as the very blood that flows through your veins it only makes sense to spend the hundreds of dollars to see the task through, right? Weeeeeeeee!!! Sarah can get used to it.

Muck. - January 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=72VMI4MV

The composition, intent, and, ultimately, late arrival of this month's mixtape is as timely and complex as it is ironic.

Muck. is the soundtrack to your already-failed new years resolutions.

It's my bitter antagonistic view towards the universal folly that the new year is some kind of clear distinction, clean break, and threshold to a new and better lifestyle; as if all the dumb decisions, laziness, and failed ambitions of the past year have vanished. *POOF* Gone! It's a new year. A new decade, even! Make it a good one! yay! :=)

Nuts to that. New Years resolutions are lame. They are initiated by the weak-willed. Muck. is intentionally dense, grimy and forty-frikkin-fathoms to keep you from making shallow benchmarks and convincing yourself that you can "make it through this tough time." Hey, you know what, Nancy? Quit whining. It's all hard, all the time. So, buck up, utilize time more effectively and, above all, realize that you've got an entire year - nay- an entire lifetime to make sense of it all, and not just when advertisers say so.

Indeed, Muck. is here to help you develop your sea-legs, to be able to roll with this crazy and exciting thing called life. It's not always pretty, but, hot diggitydog it's a slammin' good time - and I wouldn't want it any other way.

"Hey, where do these stairs go?"
"They go up."