Christmas has come and gone, and once again no one got their head stuck in the Turkey!
Honestly, it’s like I’m the only one who cares about this project sometimes…
“The One Where We Move Out”
Maybe I don’t care enough? Rachel’s quitting her job, but I can’t bring myself to quit my own in a fit of Friends™ inspired mania. Perhaps it’s because, true to form, my position’s more like Chandlers at the moment. I’m doing well enough, and still just about caring about the WEENUS enough to warrant staying.
I feel like I already got out of my “dead end waitress job” one and a half years ago. I find it a little unrealistic for Rachel to find a new job in just two weeks, but as Chandler says “I’m TOO afraid…” to see if I could manage it myself.
T.O.W.R.Q is strangely employment focused for a Christmas™ episode. Ross takes on the role of a cookie salesman to make amends for breaking the leg of Mae Whitman (of Arrested Development fame - “her?”). This leads to one of my favourite ever episode tags:
Honestly, it’s like I’m the only one who cares about this project sometimes…
“The One Where We Move Out”
Maybe I don’t care enough? Rachel’s quitting her job, but I can’t bring myself to quit my own in a fit of Friends™ inspired mania. Perhaps it’s because, true to form, my position’s more like Chandlers at the moment. I’m doing well enough, and still just about caring about the WEENUS enough to warrant staying.
I feel like I already got out of my “dead end waitress job” one and a half years ago. I find it a little unrealistic for Rachel to find a new job in just two weeks, but as Chandler says “I’m TOO afraid…” to see if I could manage it myself.
T.O.W.R.Q is strangely employment focused for a Christmas™ episode. Ross takes on the role of a cookie salesman to make amends for breaking the leg of Mae Whitman (of Arrested Development fame - “her?”). This leads to one of my favourite ever episode tags:
"I'm an alien! I'm an alien!"
Re-watching, it’s super weird for Ross to be left alone with a little girl, whose leg he just broke, in her bedroom! Is this an Americans being more trusting thing? A bit of creative licence? Or have times really changed that much in the last twenty years?
Joey, too, has a new job: selling Christmas trees!
Phoebe, once again, has an unusual amount of free time during working hours (or should that be TREE time “Ho, Ho, Ho”….) and goes to visit but is horrified to see the old trees being put through the chipper. I find it a little depressing myself cutting down plants, although finally sorting our jungle of a garden for the move was pretty satisfying.
But, like Phoebe, I was sad to see our Christmas tree chucked out before it’s time, as we commenced the immense task of cleaning two and a half years of grease, mould, and cat hairs from our flat.
Real Live Sitcom Moment:
And so, after two days of cleaning, and half an hour trying to get ours cats in their boxes, we were ready to go. The main priority being to make it as stress free for the mewling cats as possible. I’d long given up on not finding it stressful myself.
We dashed to the car full of all our stuff, got in with the cats, and… the car won’t start.
“It’s OK; we live right next to some mechanics…” I think, maybe never having a parking space, and being constantly awoken by repair work will finally pay off! WRONG. They’re shut, of course.
“I must be out of petrol,” I say “don’t worry I’ll run to the garage, you stay in here with the cats. It’s not far…”
I run to the garage. They’re out of jerry cans… the big ASDA™! I run to the big ASDA™…
“Excuse me, do you have jerry cans? Only I’ve got a car full of my life, my cats and my future wife. That I’d quite like to get moving.”
“Sure, sir, down the other end.”
Cursing the excesses of capitalism, I run ALL THE WAY down the 52 aisles, get my can and run ALL THE WAY back to the self service checkouts. Open my wallet… No bankcards! Fuck. How has she got them both!??!
I get back to the car (this time walking half the way and running the second half to maintain appearances), grab my bankcards, and run off back to ASDA™ (well, start running, then walk once I’m out of breath).
I walk ALL THE WAY down the 52 aisles, get a can and walk ALL THE WAY back. I pay and head out to the garage. I fill my can, and trudge triumphantly through the drive through booth.
“YES! I know I’m not in a car… but MY CATS NEED ME, DAMMIT.”
Back at the car I fill it up, thinking at this point the only way things could get worse is if I’m hit by a car. And then catch fire.
WRONG. We get back in the car. And it still won’t start!! Now the lights won’t even go on.
“You must have drained the battery from having the hazards on all day…” my fiancée, helpfully, points out.
The hazards, which I ONLY HAD ON… BECAUSE THE MECHANICS HAD TAKEN MY PARKING SPACE!
And then, a Christmas miracle. An AA van drives past and into the nearby McDonalds™ car park. I mean the AA – roadside assistance, not AA like the battery, although I would have settled for either at this point.
Locking my partner and the cats back in the car I dash off…
“Please you’ve got to help us! My life, my wife (clever lie) and my cats are trapped in my car. IT'S MOVING DAY.”
“Sure thing, I’m on my break right now, but I can come and help in ten minutes.”
So I went back and we waited in the car. Our wholes lives packed up, ready to go. And do you know what?
WE’RE STILL THERE. Waiting!!!
In fact, we live there now, and we’re very happy. Sure it’s a bit smaller than the flat, but boy is it cheaper! And maybe, one day that AA man will come and save us... and we can finally make it to the promised land…
Mothers house.
Re-watching, it’s super weird for Ross to be left alone with a little girl, whose leg he just broke, in her bedroom! Is this an Americans being more trusting thing? A bit of creative licence? Or have times really changed that much in the last twenty years?
Joey, too, has a new job: selling Christmas trees!
Phoebe, once again, has an unusual amount of free time during working hours (or should that be TREE time “Ho, Ho, Ho”….) and goes to visit but is horrified to see the old trees being put through the chipper. I find it a little depressing myself cutting down plants, although finally sorting our jungle of a garden for the move was pretty satisfying.
But, like Phoebe, I was sad to see our Christmas tree chucked out before it’s time, as we commenced the immense task of cleaning two and a half years of grease, mould, and cat hairs from our flat.
Real Live Sitcom Moment:
And so, after two days of cleaning, and half an hour trying to get ours cats in their boxes, we were ready to go. The main priority being to make it as stress free for the mewling cats as possible. I’d long given up on not finding it stressful myself.
We dashed to the car full of all our stuff, got in with the cats, and… the car won’t start.
“It’s OK; we live right next to some mechanics…” I think, maybe never having a parking space, and being constantly awoken by repair work will finally pay off! WRONG. They’re shut, of course.
“I must be out of petrol,” I say “don’t worry I’ll run to the garage, you stay in here with the cats. It’s not far…”
I run to the garage. They’re out of jerry cans… the big ASDA™! I run to the big ASDA™…
“Excuse me, do you have jerry cans? Only I’ve got a car full of my life, my cats and my future wife. That I’d quite like to get moving.”
“Sure, sir, down the other end.”
Cursing the excesses of capitalism, I run ALL THE WAY down the 52 aisles, get my can and run ALL THE WAY back to the self service checkouts. Open my wallet… No bankcards! Fuck. How has she got them both!??!
I get back to the car (this time walking half the way and running the second half to maintain appearances), grab my bankcards, and run off back to ASDA™ (well, start running, then walk once I’m out of breath).
I walk ALL THE WAY down the 52 aisles, get a can and walk ALL THE WAY back. I pay and head out to the garage. I fill my can, and trudge triumphantly through the drive through booth.
“YES! I know I’m not in a car… but MY CATS NEED ME, DAMMIT.”
Back at the car I fill it up, thinking at this point the only way things could get worse is if I’m hit by a car. And then catch fire.
WRONG. We get back in the car. And it still won’t start!! Now the lights won’t even go on.
“You must have drained the battery from having the hazards on all day…” my fiancée, helpfully, points out.
The hazards, which I ONLY HAD ON… BECAUSE THE MECHANICS HAD TAKEN MY PARKING SPACE!
And then, a Christmas miracle. An AA van drives past and into the nearby McDonalds™ car park. I mean the AA – roadside assistance, not AA like the battery, although I would have settled for either at this point.
Locking my partner and the cats back in the car I dash off…
“Please you’ve got to help us! My life, my wife (clever lie) and my cats are trapped in my car. IT'S MOVING DAY.”
“Sure thing, I’m on my break right now, but I can come and help in ten minutes.”
So I went back and we waited in the car. Our wholes lives packed up, ready to go. And do you know what?
WE’RE STILL THERE. Waiting!!!
In fact, we live there now, and we’re very happy. Sure it’s a bit smaller than the flat, but boy is it cheaper! And maybe, one day that AA man will come and save us... and we can finally make it to the promised land…
Mothers house.
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