i havent cut the grass in 3 weeks...I havent had to...its too dry
well aren't we lucky
your sarcasm is lost over the background noise of tornado sirens right now...lol
are you already downstairs?
no but i go on high alert during wind storms listening for things to break..
poppa needs new insurance paid siding
hmmm, what're the chances?
bah..the sirens went off...hope fading...lol
so if you get a text or see a facebook post that says...trapped in basement..send help...you should feel safe to spring into action.. :-)
I'll go ahead and laugh for a bit
then I'll call someone in another state from you
but don't worry...you'll get help
Lordie I cant wait to sign the Do Not Resuscitate order on you one day...
I'm going to dot the I in Daniel with a little heart
please don't stick the pen under your arm and then sniff it
no..I'll need to keep at least one hand free to hold you under the pillow
at least it'll be done with luv
I wouldn't want any other friend to euthanize me
yeah...I was going to hold a bidding war...thought maybe I'd make some extra cheddar..but some pleasures I reserve for myself because...you my friend... are worth it.
Can we please stop hiking, site seeing, boating, souvenir shopping, and generally going walkabout around North Korea and Iran now please? This shit getting a little fucking ridiculous and showing the world you're a shining example of Darwinism does not entitle anyone to an ex-President bailout.
"Hey. I'm a few miles from the North Korean border. My common sense is tingling so maybe I'm in danger. I should get my ass out of here before another American leader has to humble himself in front of the goddamn world."
Yesterday I decided to finally quit procrastinating on a few long simmering "to do" list items so I put on my big boy pants and set about making things happen. For instance, I finally forced myself to call my insurance company and open a claim on Bart, my little black jeep. A month or two ago during a particularly breezy afternoon, the wind blowing through my carport caught hold of my storm door and flung it open hard enough to send the glass window pane flying through the air and into the side of my accident magnet 4x4. The glass window pane was surprisingly fine. Bart, however, sustained a nice six inch wound on the driver's side door....
...right where I'd see it and flinch each and every single time I got into the jeep.
This could not remain unaddressed.
Now you'd think this would be an easy enough call to make but instinct told me to stretch, eat some carbs, and warm up a bit before dialing the number for Allstate. My instincts were correct. The claims rep I spoke with was nice enough but she simply couldnt grasp the concept of what happened until I finally broke it down to her as, "My house crashed into my parked jeep."
I'm not convinced that in the end she understood exactly what happened but a claim was opened.
This morning at 8am...which to someone who works nights like me is 3am...the repair shop called to make the appointment. Barely awake enough to rip Wheezy, my iron lung c-pap machine, off my face, appointments were made and details were finalized. I think. I'm not sure if the receptionist was trying purposely to present the affectation of an SNL character or if she was the stereotype on which sitcoms are created. She used the word "wonderful" like 30 times in our three minute converstation. Wonderful pronounced WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL.
WUNNNNERFULLLLL. Bring your jeep in at 11am on Thursday, ok? WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL. Do you need a rental car? WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL. You have our phone number? WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL.WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL. Your insurance information? WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL. Do you need directions? WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL.WUNNNERFUUUUUULLLL.
It was as if Lilly Tomlin was spoofing Jersey Shore.
Out of the blue I had an idea for a book this morning but I'm not sure if it's something that's been done before or not. It's the kind of idea that I'd expect to find done to death already but I don't recall ever seeing anything like it. Make sense? Yeah, it doesnt to me either but you'll have that sometimes. It's a very commercial idea as in I don't really see the idea as a book so much as I do a screenplay for a movie. Not a good movie, mind you but a very commercial bad movie; a February release starring badly over acting Hollywood names like Jack Black or Jim Carrey.... *shudder*...kind of deal. Commercial enough I could actually work vampires into the plot. Yeah. That commerical. Thank God my soul whithered and died centuries ago.
Maybe the idea will fade. Maybe it should.
Today I'm using vastlymore 's spacing technique of differentiating topics with the _____________ markers. It looks easy but LJ auto formatting is being a bitch about it. Still, anything to remain relevant and cool, eh? From time to time I think about doing a week long series of posts spoofing the style of other LJ'ers just to see if anyone would notice and/or take offense. Then I see something shiny and the thought goes away. Does that ever happen to you , my lovelies? (Oops I did it again. I should stop t....oh look...glitter....)
Next month I'll be in Chicago for a long weekend with friends. I've done Chicago in the Winter time. It was god awful. I've done Chicago in the summertime. It was hell. I figure I'll give it a go in Autumn. How bad could it be, right? That's a rhetorical question, by the way. I'm sure it will be nothing but WUUUNNNERFUULLLL.
A few weeks ago a large crew showed up outside the house and let me know that they were running cameras down the sewer looking for problems. Once again, I had no problem with this.
Today the doorbell rang. I looked outside to see a little old guy clutching a paper and looking nervous. Apparently the electric company pole...also in the back yard...had damaged the sewer thingee and repairs are needed. Big repairs. Unfortunately, the only way to the back yard with any kind of equipment would be through my car port...which would never work. And if they somehow navigated the car port, all of the power lines back there would be an issue...as would my concrete driveway. This foreman was just doing a survey today and left shaking his head and muttering darkly to himself.
This is never a good sign.
I didnt ask him many questions as this kind of caught me flat footed. About five minutes after he was gone I had this sudden urge to Lawyer-UP and now dozens of scenarios are burning through my head.
Best case scenario? What if the only way to repair the lines back there is to take out the carport? Even if this does happen, they'd have to remove fences, power lines, poles, and God knows what else. Could I be in a position where the city has to buy my house to fix a neighborhood problem?
I could totally live with that...
I don't normally do weekend recap posts. Perhaps it's because I'm lazy. Perhaps it's because I don't think anyone wants to read, "Sat on my couch. Caught up on my DVR show list. Took a nap." Perhaps it's a combination of both of these reasons.
Yep. Definitely a combo deal.
This weekend, however, was a very good weekend. It was the type of weekend I don't have very often so I believe it's best if I pay a quick homage to it here for posterity's sake.
Not necessarily in any particular order:
1. My older gaming laptop...the one that nearly got me thrown out of Canada...
...that's a long story...border guards thought they found porn on it. Ok. It wasn't that long of a story...
...died six month ago. More specifically, the video card died. Being a Dell, of course not just any video card would work as a replacement because of Dell's customized heat sink setup. Used video cards priced out over $400 dollars on eBay and I just couldnt wrap my head around that cost. So I declared the laptop dead and moved on. A dead computer, to a geek at least, is never really dead though. It's "resting". Occasionally the laptop would return to my mind and I'd ponder and research options. This is what happened last week when I came across someone else with a related issue that was solved through unorthodox methods. With nothing to lose, I decided to give it a try.
I tore the old laptop apart, cracked open the video card assembly, and baked it in the oven at 400 degrees for 10 minutes. Yes you read that right. I baked a video card. The scary thing? It worked. Worked like a charm. The laptop works again like a champ. I renamed it Lazarus for obvious reasons. The total cost of the repair: one long afternoon of cussing and 10 dollars for some thermal grease.
2. Yesterday I got to attend a very unconventional wedding with lots of good old fashioned conventional love. Many good wishes and warm thoughts go out to my friend Joe and his new husband Mitchell. The company in attendance was great. The cake was good. Noone died. I believe that's the recipe of a successful wedding.
The wedding was casual dress....so causal both grooms wore shorts. I, however, cannot go casual to a wedding. I tried. I just can't do it. However, I havent had occasion to dress "up" in many years. My day to day work gear is cargo shorts and polo shirts. I've never been to Denim Hell without a ball cap on. Not once. With this in mind, I had to go shopping.
I won't bore you with the details although I have to ask, when did Burlington Coat Factory go ghetto? Like, big fake gold bling ghetto? Like jeans with the ass sag to the knees precut into the fabric ghetto? I used to love BCF. Finding it all hip hop-tastic was like going back to my grade school and finding it covered in graffiti.
In the end, I think I did ok. I was a vision in brown. A brown vision. The summer sweater vest...not really a sweater at all...did unfortunately make me look like a big rectangular box in the photos. So much so, in fact, that I had to go home and take a few other pictures of myself to convince myself I wasnt as broad as a barn door for comparison sake.
Note to self: quit bad mouthing barn doors.
3. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Go see it. Go now. Quit reading Live Journal this instant and go see it.
Why are you still here? I said go now. You cant go now? Fine. Be that way. But go see it when you get a chance. Definitely the best movie I've seen this year and easily fitting into my top 5 movies ever. (Sorry Steel Magnolias. You're now number six.)
Just how good was it? Within one hour of seeing the movie plans were already in place to see it again this week. I NEVER see movies twice in the theaters. EVER. This one I can't wait to see again and I can't wait to see it in BluRay on the Danieltron at Morning Glory Circle. There's so much going on On-Screen it's should almost be mandatory to see it a second time just to read all of the hillarious captions.
Seriously, lines so quoteable it's "Girls Will Be Girls" level of awesomeness.
I'm pretty sure that's the highest level of praise I can ever give a movie. Yep. Just checked. That's my level of Oscar: Girls Will Be Girls levels of awesome.
Fetch has been down for almost a week now. The help desk still insists on calling me to do SOMETHING about Fetch despite the fact that I've told them repeatedly that Fetch belongs to a different department.
Tonight in my honest to God real life I finally got to use the sentence, "Stop trying to make Fetch happen! Fetch will never happen!"
I'm such a Plastic.
From the Columbus Dispatch:
WARSAW, Ohio - Strip-club owner Tommy George rolled up to the church in his grabber-orange Dodge Challenger, drinking a Mountain Dew at 9 in the morning and smoking a cigarette he had just rolled himself.
Pastor Bill Dunfee stepped out of a tan Nissan Murano, clutching a Bible in one hand and his sermon in the other, a touch of spray holding his perfectly coiffed 'do in place.
Inside the New Beginnings Ministries church, Dunfee's worshippers wore polyester and pearls.
Outside, George's strippers wore bikinis and belly rings.
Both men agree it is classic sinners vs. saints. But George says it is up to America to decide which is which and who is who.
Dunfee says God already has chosen.
"Tom George is a parasite, a man without judgment," Dunfee said. "The word of Jesus Christ says you cannot share territory with the devil."
The battle that has heretofore played out in the parking lot of George's strip club - the Foxhole, a run-down, garage-like building at a Coshocton County crossroads called Newcastle - has shifted 7 miles east to Church Street.
Every weekend for the last four years, Dunfee and members of his ministry have stood watch over George's joint, taking up residence in the right of way with signs, video cameras and bullhorns in hand. They videotape customers' license plates and post them online, and they try to save the souls of anyone who comes and goes.
Now, the dancers have turned the tables, so to speak. Fed up with the tactics of Dunfee and his flock, they say they have finally accepted his constant invitation to come to church.
It's just that they've come wearing see-through shorts and toting Super Soakers.
They bring lawn chairs and - yesterday, anyway - grilled hamburgers, Monster energy drinks and corn on the cob.
They sat in front of the church and waved at passing cars but largely ignored the congregation behind them.
Likewise, the churchgoers largely ignored the dancers. Except for Stan Braxton. He stopped and held hands with Lola, a 42-year-old dancer who made $200 on her Saturday night shift, and prayed for her salvation.
Lola, who wouldn't give her last name, said she was grateful for Braxton's prayers and his time.
The women don't come here, after all, without their own version of religion. They bring signs with Scriptures written in neon colors:
Matthew 7:15: Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep's clothing
Revelations 22:11: He that is unjust, let him be unjust still
Greg Flaig is executive director of the Ohio Owners Coalition, a group of showbar and club owners. He called the women's protest extraordinary, saying he's never heard of anything like it in the country.
George said the protest has been a long time coming. He sued the church in federal court several years ago, claiming a violation of his constitutional rights, but he lost. Now, he said, turnabout is fair play.
"When these morons go away, we'll go away," George said. "The great thing about this country is that everyone has a right to believe what they want."
He said his club operates within the law. Dunfee said it does not, that it must close at midnight instead of its regular 2 or 3 a.m. Coshocton County Prosecutor Bob Batchelor said Friday only that he, the sheriff and the city prosecutor are "aware of the situation."
Gina Hughes spent the morning soaking up the sun in her striped bikini, mostly oblivious to the fire and brimstone being preached in the tidy church building.
The 30-year-old married mother of six said she has danced at the Foxhole for a decade and holds the title of "house mom." That means that even though she still dances, she also watches out for the six other women who work there.
She said she makes $2,000 a week.
"These church people say horrible things about us," Hughes said. "They say we're homewreckers and whores. The fact of the matter is, we're working to keep our own homes together, to give our kids what they need."
Dunfee said it's not that simple. He said he consistently offers the women help, a chance at redemption.
"I tell them, 'I will put a roof over your heads, and your bills will be paid, and your children's bellies will be full,'" he said. Yet they don't come inside.
The first few weeks, Dunfee piped the sermon outside. But that "agitated" them, he said, and made them dance in the streets.
He said their presence has united his church members and reinvigorated their mission to shut down the club.
"They have now seen the evil firsthand," Dunfee said. "This has just made us stronger."
George laughed at that notion.
"They're just mad," he said, "because their wives won't let them come to my club."
Panic ensued. Idle speculation reigned supreme. Professionals were called but could not be here until Monday morning giving my over active imagination two and a half full days to anticipate the worst possible scenario. (More on that later...)
Long story short, my a/c...possibly my entire heating and cooling system...broke.
Since I was already hot and sweaty, I decided to cut the grass. I waved at my neighbors and hauled the mower out of the garage. It wouldnt start. No amount of cursing, sweating, or sweet whispered promises to Cthulu could spark it to life.
My lawnmower broke.
The next day I hopped into my Jeep to run some errands and to find some sweet a/c in someplace public like a Starbucks or an assisted suicide center. The jeep just clicked at me. Clicked defiantly I might add. I popped the hood. I pretended to know what the hell I was looking for under the hood. I slammed the hood shut. I stomped around and cursed some more. Ten minutes later the jeep started up like nothing had happened. I'm not that naive. I know something happened and could happen again at any badly timed occasion. So in my mind...
My Jeep is broke.
With my mind still overthinking my a/c problem, I decided at some point to try to figure out which breaker in the house controlled the system. Since my breaker box is very old and nothing is labeled, I decided to take the plunge and reset all of breakers. While this had no affect whatsoever on the furance, the pc in my basement went crashing down for the count. I think the power supply went bad. While this is an easy fix...
My den computer is broke.
Other things broken this weekend:
The thermometer I use in the smoker to make my chicken. Broke.
The lawn chair I sat in at the neighor's house as they fed me consolation beers Saturday night: Broke.
My bank balance and my will to live: Broke and Broke.
The heating and cooling tech will be coming by the house tomorrow morning. While I do have a kind of/sort of warranty on the system through my 10 dollar a month gas line warranty, I've learned in my 41 years to not get my hopes up.
Best case scenario: The HVAC tech says my entire system is fried and recommends a complete replacement that my insurer must kick $3000 dollars toward as part of my coverage. The tech quotes me 5k for a new furnace and a/c for the house and a $1500 dollar tax credit knocks the entire system down to $500.
Odds of this happening: About 100000 to 1.
Worst case scenario: The HVAC guy blames something electrical. I call in an electrician who blames the HVAC guy. Bills begin to mount and whatever part has gone bad is insanely expensive and not covered under my warranty.
Odds of this happening: About 50/50.
I'm glad I'm going back to work tonight. Im running out of things to break here at home. I think it might be best however if I stay the hell out of the server room for a few days.
Early yesterday evening when the blogspheres I call my second home began declaring that the new iPhone 4 jailbreak was a GO I swore I'd wait a few days for the bugs and little idiosyncracies to shake themselves out.
My resolved lasted about 3 minutes after I walked in the door from Denim Hell at 2am. I'm agog at my willpower and restraint.
The techie sites were bursting with glee filled stories of jailbreak bliss and angsty, screaming, whiners threatening to sue people because they believed terrorists were responsible for bricking their phones. One dude in particular just screamed for an iptrace to his home address for a good old fashioned hysterical bitch slap.
Lucky for him I was pretty tired....and he was probably in Arizona or Alaska or something. You get the point.
So I gave in to my inner geek and did my little act of jailbreaking. Afterwards everything worked just as it always did. I redownloaded my Rock and Cydia apps from my 3G jailbreak and they all work as remembered.
MyFi: 3G wifi tethering app is a Go.
My3G: A little app that tricks Facetime into using a 3G connection thus freeing me to go to any Lowes or Home Depot Garden Center and video chat questions to Evil Friend Jack is a Go.
BiteSMS: Super duper messaging application is a Go.
SBsettings: Too wonderful for words: Go.
I love turning old toys into new ones. It makes my inner thrifty geek tingle...and at my age that's something to brag about....
On the day I can no longer forestall my inevitable commitment to a state run institution for both my own safety and that of the public at large, I request that at least one of you get in touch with the doctors handling my electro-shock therapy to inform them to save my HMO the burden of costly Rorschach tests and simply observe the state of my home. For you see, when I'm depressed and/or crazed, my house quickly spirals into a two hour "Very Special Episode" of Hoarders.
For two weeks I've been anxious, depressed, and totally manic. In those two weeks my home has....suffered.
On the bright side, if I am a psychotic nutcase of Kim Jong-il porportions, I am at least a functional one. As such, I can recognize the escalating decay of my domicile and understand the connections to my own breakdown. This week I saw my mess and knew that my mess was me and put a plan into motion to diagnose, treat, and push my depression back into remission. In short; physician clean thyself.
Thursday's alternative treatment to lithium and electrodes was to handle my yardwork and handle it I did. The grass was cut. The trimming was completed. The driveways, garage areas, and sidewalks were edged back. The rosebush of doom was eviscerated and it's roots were gleefully and spitefully poisoned. Solar yard lights were dug up and repositioned. My grape vines on the car port got a Kid N Play style fade and I even fixed the super, ultra gay twinkle lights strung on the back patio.
I want to laminate the entire yard right now. It must stay exactly the way it is for the rest of the year. Perhaps some type of shellac. Don't lesbians secrete preservative resins when they mate?
Note to self: Get more lesbians.
The edging portion of the day...
...get your minds of the gutter you filthy poppets...
...was particularly taxing. I think I reclaimed a foot or two of driveway clearance once I'd wacked the weeds back from their concrete border incursions. The sidewalk in front of the house is now in line with my two boardering over achiever neighbors who keep ruler straight lines in their grass along the edges of the walkway. Before today, you could walk the 'hood and say to yourself, "Good neighbor...Good neighbor...Good neighbor...Deadbeat neighbor...Good neighbor...Oh my God should we check Dan's house for a dead body smell because he hasnt edged this all year and surely has perished in some unspeakable way...Good neighbor...Good neighbor..."
Tonight I'm a good neighbor. Sadly, it's probably not meant to last.
Friday I tackle the inside of Morning Glory Circle. That is, if I'm not too sore from today's burst of HGTV cosplay. The bathroom alone is rather hazmatty. Special equipment...aka a professional cleaning service with a deathwish...might be required.
No I don't know what I ate last night that hated me this much. No clue. I am, however, giving up all food for the next month to ensure this level of horror never happens inside my skull ever again.