Moving Week

Busy time for me right now.  I'm moving in with my girlfriend this week, so my best friend, George, is in town for a few days to "help me move."  The quotes are because I have no furniture, and since I moved to New York by myself with 6 pieces of luggage I have only added some minor pieces of clothing and a TV.  So basically, he just wanted any excuse to come to the city. 

Because I have no furniture (the room I rent currently is furnished) I had to buy a dresser.  I'm not exactly rolling in cash, so IKEA was the only answer.  Last night I spent two hours alone and one hour with my girlfriend putting together a small five drawer dresser.  It was only $60 and will definitely get the job done, but I officially drove more nails last night than I have in the rest of my life combined.  It's cheap because you do every piece of human labor.

Why are things from Sweden so high maintenence?  Between IKEA and the Bikini Team, I don't think any man should ever think of moving to Sweden, unless they have a death wish.  Luckily, the cheap furniture might counter all the hair dyeing, waxing, tanning, and plastic surgery appointment money needed to hold onto a woman there. 

But, I digress.  It's a busy time, but an exciting time.  If living with her works out like I think it will, she'll be the one.  Yes, that one.  Only time will tell if she's willing to put up with my bullshit, and I with hers, with nowhere to escape to.

Disappointment

Disappointments are never minor. A "minor" disappointment to one cursed soul may be a crushing blow to the psyche of a less jaded individual. Disappointments, as most things men foolhardily attempt to measure, are relative. No missed opportunity or squandered talent is greater than any other until viewed through the eyes of the disappointed.

Each disappointment hurts. Scars. Burns.

There is no cure but time. But, how long? Who's to say? Time is relative.

Who is Jack Barter?

I am, of course. I was born, John Aaron Barter, in 1984 in Nowheresville, California, to William and Evelyn Barter. Everyone just calls me Jack. I have a sister, Brooke, a brother-in-law, Sean, and a nephew, Alex. I have many other relatives who probably merit a mention, but that's for another day. I moved to Vegas at 21, then New York at 26. I am average in so many ways, but good at almost everything I attempt. Not great. Good. Name it, I've probably tried it. Except skiing, or any other snow-based athletic endeavors, those I haven't done, but, pretty much everything else, and I'm at least above average at all of it. Except maybe chopping things. My knife skills are seriously lacking.

I work in a Manhattan restaurant owned by an eccentric Canadian millionaire, Ben Ellis. It's a Blue Jays and Maple Leafs bar that suffers during football season due to a lack of allegiance to any one team. The Eagles bar down the block is packed to bursting on Sundays in the fall while we struggle with their leftovers.

I live on the Upper East Side with my girlfriend, Angelica Klein, and our snarky roommate, Samantha Voss.

More about them later. This post is about me, after-all. But, I don't know what else to say about that subject. You have enough about me for now. Stay tuned for more.