Life

Just when I thought I would be able to focus a little more time here, life once again points me in a different direction. Three weeks ago I received a last minute rush cabinet commission that had kept me tied up every free moment to make sure that it was installed before the 5th. Thankfully I was able to meet my deadline and make a tidy profit just before Christmas. The downside is that with all the time I had to focus on the order I’ve had to neglect a my Christmas orders, so I will once again be focusing all my energies towards meeting those orders so I don’t disappoint come the 25th.

Wife and I are also toying with the idea of heading back to southern Utah on a more permanent basis. It turns out that even with the slower real estate market, other townhouses in our complex are actually selling for a decent amount that would give us enough equity to actually get into a real home with a real garage and yard for the dogs…I know…pretty novel concept. We’ve just decided that even though we’re from the mountains and love everything about them, we just don’t like the snow anymore. I wonder if we lived in a different home that allowed us to park in the garage if we would feel differently. I think it really bothers Wife to have to scrape and brush the car every morning before trudging through the slush and muck to work. For me it’s more about having to constantly worry about the other drivers that either shouldn’t have ever received a drivers license in this area or don’t know or care enough to keep their vehicle safe with proper winter tires, suspension etc. During any given snow storm there is at least 1 person in the ditch on my way home…even growing up here I don’t remember that kind of odds…so it has to be that there are more drivers that are less experienced on the roads here. Go figure…

Another Instant Classic

Yet another classic from the Liam Show

Thanks to Titus Jones for bringing us this sweet ass mashup…check out his other stuff. It ROCKS

Say What?

Gotta love the conversations I have with Wife some times….
Her: I mean, I may not have this job in 10 years but I’d like to be married with a family in 10 years
Me: Great…who are you going to marry?
(pause….)
Her: You’re an Asshole

Christmas in the air

So over the past few weeks Wife and I have been contemplating what to get the family for Christmas…

Since I believe one of my brothers reads this page I can’t go into details but man o man did we find the best kick ass presents this year. It’s so kick ass that I know all of you want to know what it is, but too bad…you’re just going to have to wait until after Christmas…

If you don’t like it…too bad…whale biologist!

And the Sky Parts

I know I’m once again late with another installment, but I swear I have good reason.
The past few weeks have really been troublesome at work and as such life has pretty much sucked donkey balls. So much so that over two weeks ago I developed a pain in my lower, lower back if you catch my drift. Well I pretty much thought it was another sign of my age, my health, my weight and of course the stress that work has been piling on top. So I do what every other red blooded American male would do…deny deny deny… That was until I could no longer deny that I had a problem. It got to the point last Thursday that I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t lie, I couldn’t move period. I remember I got out of the shower (of which I had been attempting to sooth my issue by soaking abnormally long in the hot water in an attempt to quiet the pain) to find that any sort of movement resulted in such a wave of nausea that I thought I was going to die. That was it…apparently this thing attached to my backside had developed an intelligence and was aware that I was 1: on my way to my horrid black hole of a job and that 2: I was attempting to kill it by drowning and that it would have no such attempts on its life made without putting up a fight. All I knew was that I wanted it dead at all costs and that it was now either him or I and I really have an attachment to breathing, so it had to be him.
After I stumbled out of the bathroom, blinded by the pain I curled into the fetal position on the bed for a few moments until I could regain my composure and make it down stairs to tell Wife that ego aside, it was time to have another man look at my ass. I think that this is where Wife realized just how much pain I was in, because there’s no way in HELL that I would willingly ask for a doctors appointment be made, especially one at the last moment and absolutely no way for it to be an ass doctor and yet there I was asking for those very things…Hell had frozen over….
Fast forward to that afternoon and there I am sitting nervously in the exam room of a scary little clinic in Salt Lake, all the while replaying how I had gotten to this point over and over in my head and just why in the hell was I in this dirty little clinic…it after all was not the spacious comfortable doctors office I had been expecting. Fast forward another hour and the doctor finally arrives, asks the usual questions and then we’re to the point I had been dreading…the male “poke and stare” Now I have never, let me say that again…I have NEVER had another man, no, no, another human being ever look at that region let along poke and prod it. Come to think of it I’m sure that my new little friend had counted on this and was assured that its existence would continue until the end of time. That was until the doctor sat down behind me and spread things apart while I lie in the fetal position on his examining table wondering if he’d at least call me in the morning. I wonder if the doctor saw my little friend recoil in horror at his nonchalant demeanor while looking at my ass, because I know it knew this man was there to kill it and that it wasn’t going to go quietly. But this is where things took on a sort of Salvador Dali-esque hugh and time itself melted before my eyes. It seems that no I didn’t have a typical red blooded American male hemorrhoid…no, no, I had the next best thing, a red blooded American Abscess, conveniently located next to my ass…it was understandable how I could confuse the two…silly me. After some thought it became apparent that I had concentrated all of my hate and all of my rage for my life sucking black hole of a job and caused it to manifest as a giant infected soar on my ass…lovely…
So after getting dressed the doctor explained what this new little addition of mine really was and that we needed to drain it as soon as possible the next day and that it would require surgery to do so. Just want I had wanted to hear. It couldn’t be as simple as a topical cream, a prescription or any other simple remedies…no this little bastard was going to fight me tooth and nail to both our demise. So off we went, wondering just what in the hell the next day would bring and just what in the hell had we done to piss of the God’s so much that we had been sooo blessed.
Friday morning dawned bright and beautiful for some people…not us though…we still had the Armageddon of abscess removal looming that afternoon. We finally made our way to the hospital for yet another poke and stare (this time thankfully in that comfy and private little doctors office). As I once again lie on the examining table, peaking through the blinds dreaming that I really was anywhere else I realized that there was this searing pain coming from the region of my ass. Had the doctor really just jammed that giant ass Q-tip into the middle of my new little friend and began to poke and prod away without giving me any warning? Why yes, yes he did…it seems that he too knew that a surprise attack on this little abomination was the best tactic, after all if I didn’t see it coming neither would it right? So after what seemed to be a lifetime he removed his now bloody and puss soaked Q-tip and informed us that they would get me added to the surgical rotation for the afternoon and that I could once again get dressed. The good news however was that he would be able to fix my problem and that we had an 80% chance of it never coming back…80%? Common doc, that’s a pretty weak odd, you’re going to cut me open, scoop out all the infected tissue and leave open to heal from the inside out and 80% is all you can give me? Either way we decide to move forward and to have it out with my little ass pirate once and for all. After the doctor leaves for me to get dressed all I can think of is, “at least it’s better than work” That’s right…fighting this little bastard was better than work on good day.
So we move along on what seems to be fast forward for the rest of the afternoon…Hospital administration, pre-op, ambulatory care, and in no time the nurse is telling me that I need to get into my gown because the orderly is coming to take me to the operating room. What’s funny is that even though I was going in for a fairly minor issue I couldn’t help being nervous. You always here the stories about people who have friends of friends who went in for the minor something and never came out…so as Wife and I parted ways as the orderly made a right turn towards the operating room and directed her left into the waiting room I couldn’t help but fight that little urge to panic that I might not ever see her again. Stupid yes, but true still the same…
After being asked by no less than 6 different people who I was, what was my birth day and why was I there I was finally wheeled into action. It’s funny that the last thoughts in my head as I stared up through the oxygen mask on my face were of my family, but the first in recovery were of what time it was on the clock at the foot of my bed…weird. So I had made it through and I was faintly aware of bustling nurses here and there checking on things as I fought to stay awake…the next memory I have is being wheeled back into my room where Wife was waiting with a nervous smile. As we waited for the deepest effects of the drugs to wear of so I could do more than smile and drool as I drifted in and out of consciousness I remember Wife asking me about Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Freebird that was playing on a tv commercial and I swear that I raised my arm and exclaimed “Wooooooooo FREEBIRD” only to find out latter that this must have been the drugs because apparently I did no such thing…either way that’s the way I’m telling the story from now on. So after about an hour we were given the ok to get dressed and head home, thank God, it was over and we had won the first battle.
After a few days of recovery and a few pounds of gauze things are starting to feel better and life is moving forward. The best is that after all of this, the sky has actually parted and there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It seems that my life sucking, black hole of job has netted me a few jobs for the new business and is going to serve as quite a lucrative client…funny how things seem to work out in the end…no pun intended, I swear…

I can’t believe this exists

All I can say is: Who in their right mind believes stuff like this really works?

It reminds me of that “Dead Like Me” where George pisses off forces that you really shouldn’t piss off and hundreds of fat people die from wearing a device that looks extremely similar…

Thanks to the folks at SlenderTone for a great laugh

Sorry

I know I don’t have too many readers out there, but to those that I do have, I apologize for the delay in posting something new. I’ve just been so focused on getting some new products out into the market through the wood working business that I’ve neglected this site.

For what it’s worth, we should have a basic new website of the new business up and running shortly.

Either way I should get back up and running here shortly and will try much harder to not be so neglectful in the future.

FRICK

Why did I get up this morning? I was sooo warm and toasty in bed, why did I get out? I knew there was going to be a crap load of snow…I HATE snow…

Ummm, Duh?

While reading through the morning news today I happened to click on a story regarding America’s middle class and how poor it’s becoming. Now don’t worry, I’m not going to bash this or that branch of government, I’m not going to bitch about a war over oil, I’m not going to rip on the SUV driving soccer mom and I’m definitely not going to point a finger at any one person. I am however going to give the entire plight one giant DUH…You can read the article here thanks to MSN (I know…that liberal media…what I am I reading it for? At least it’s not Fox) for opening our eyes.

I mean really…thank God they said something or I would have thought that our having to live paycheck to paycheck was because of the Republicans…whew that was a close one…

Wait, did I really just say that? Oh no, I’ve become a self hating Republica…must be time to pack up the family and head for the bomb shelter.

Wife

Writers Block

Looking at the site this morning I realized the inevitable, I’ve got writers block or something very like it. The problem is that this isn’t just extending to the supposed daily attempt at updating this site. Sadly to say it has extended into the garage…man’s last domain of masculinity and I have no clue as to what I should be doing in there at any given moment lately. This normally isn’t a huge issue for those guys out there that are lucky enough to have more than a 10×20 single care garage…no, no, those lucky bastards that have 2 or 3 car garages have enough space to work on the car, open the beer frige, watch the game and hide from the wife at the same time, all without raising alarm that they haven’t made enough noise to really be working. I however have decided to stuff my single space with enough wood working equipment to fill a full woodworking shop in an attempt to escape my daily grind for greener pastures. This is where the writers block is kicking my ass…not only has it affected my ability to keep you all glued to your refresh button hoping that a new post will magically appear, but it has affected my attempt at climbing over the fence and enjoying those greener pastures. It seems that I have no less than 6 ideas for new pieces of work in my head at any given time, but I can’t get those to manifest in the shop…So lately I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garage pacing back and forth attempting to force these ideas out and onto the table so that one day my morning commute will be all of 50 feet. Then on those days that I’m not pacing back and forth in the shop I’m feeling guilty that I’m not in the shop…sucks…I think I need a mental enema, maybe then I’ll be able to empty my fat head and get some work done…

Why are you smiling like that?

Oh Mr. Potato Head, the shame you’ve brought to the Misses and the tatter tots…
Thanks to Metro.co.uk for bringing us the latest plight on today’s celebrities

New meaning of Phone Sex

 Gives a new meaning to phone sex
Thanks to funnyordie.com

Oh What A Day

Bad day??? Follow these 2 steps to make it better…

Step 1: Insert Beer until day is forgotten

Step 2: Enjoy remainder of evening

Outta my way…

This afternoon as I drove into work it dawned on me that there was an unusually large amount of traffic for 11:30 am, even for our quaint little mountain town. So there I am sitting in bumper to bumper traffic wondering what in the hell I’ve gotten myself into when I notice a car attempting to make a left turn out of a parking lot, across traffic and across the left turn lane I was currently occupying. It was then that I noticed the idea that went through this guy’s head and flashed across his face like he had just seen sweet Jesus himself ordering that latte at Star Bucks…I like to think that it went a little something like this…

1: I can sit here for god knows how long, in a fruitless attempt to make a simple left turn in this quaint little mountain town, OR……

2: I can back up into the parking lot and leave through one of the other exits, buuuuuut……why do that when….

3: I can still back up and just make a left onto the sidewalk and get into traffic at the next driveway a block away…Yeah…that’s a good idea

So sure enough Mr. Wizard took option 3 and merrily drove his way down the side walk to the next driveway where he once again sat, waiting to make a left turn…I swear…I might as well move to L.A. because it seems all the jackasses from there have moved here…

So Real

Woodland Rain Shampoo

SO REAL

Thanks to Funny or Die and Tom Basden Raven Burnett Tim Key Eric Scherbarth J Van Tulleken

Simple Things

After growing up in a house where child slavery was not only condoned but practiced I find that it’s the simple things of life that make it worth living. Things like coming home to two frantic dogs, a loving wife and a new dish washer…

No more hours of slaving over that soapy sink, dreading the sharp sting of the vegetable peeler as your 5 year old fingers probe the bottom of the sink like a pirate digging for gold…no siree. I’m in and out in 5 minutes and then I’m barreling for the door to meet the other neighborhood child slaves for a quick game of cops and robbers…now if I were only 25 years younger this wouldn’t be so disturbing
Like I said, it’s all about the simple things in life……

Boobies

Lately we’ve been looking into picking up a new desktop or at the very least a new lap top. Our current POS, otherwise known as a Dell Inspiron 5100 that I picked up in college has developed a nasty habit of shutting down of its own will. I’m sure its developed this little quirk just to raise my ire and is calling my bluff that I one day I will help it discover its aerodynamics from the third floor bedroom window if it doesn’t stop misbehaving…Trust me…I’m going to do it, I swear to God I will, one day in what I hope will be the very near future I’m going to show it that I don’t bluff and then on that day all of our other electrical appliances that have given me lip will finally shut the hell up and do the job that I purchased them to do.

The irony in all of this is that every review that we’ve been reading keeps leading us back to a newer Dell…and God help me I HATE Dell. Their customer service SUCKS ASS, their preloaded BS programs are damn near impossible to remove and once you do get them removed you’ve got to repair so many windows files that you’re probably better off just reformatting the hard drive when it arrives on your door step. We’ve toyed with the idea of picking up an Ibook to help us work with the huge number of photos we take and to begin designing the blogs and our wood working site a little more easily, but we just can’t seem to get over the apple hump.

Who knows how we’re going to pay for this addition, but we’ll figure it out…I mean really we’ll just add it to the list…web hosting, camera, vacation, new boobies for Wife, laptop…it all fits.

Speaking of new boobies for Wife, that reminds me of one of my favorite “Family Guy” episodes, thanks to YouTube for helping me relive this moment.

Gotta love the Side Boob hour…and it’s a perfect tribute to our “New Boobies” for Wife fund, click the link and donate again and again…if you donate lots, we might just give you a view of the new side boobs…

Mac & PC

South Park parody on the Mac and PC commercials.

Thanks to YouTube

What did they say?

Overheard at the movies last night:
“I mean, you have to like the guy you’re going to marry a little bit right?”
Oh the dark and bleak future these girls are going to have…

Heavy???

 After Wife read yesterday’s installment of my crazy life, she kind of freaked…not freaked in a bad way, but freaked none the less. It seems I get a little too heavy in some of my posts…is it true? Am I getting too heavy with my readers? I don’t think so, after all this is one of my only outlets to unleash the crazy building inside. So world if I’m getting too deep or too heavy for you too damn bad. It’s better that I reveal it here rather than out on the highway with my front bumper and those kids in the crosswalk, or that lady in the Lexus that always cuts me off on the way to work…you know who you are and I know you know that you ALWAYS cut me off. It’s like some perverted little game that you like to play, but no more missy…I’m on to you…

Iphone Madness

Not only did the new Apple Iphone bring us light years into the future. Bringing us sweet features, music, video and web to your phone but it also comes with another sweet ass option, a 300 page phone bill. Hey folks, you can’t make progress without bashing the environment a little, I mean really who needs those pesky rain forests anyhow.

Thanks to Justine Ezarik at TastyBlogSnack.com for bringing this to light and thanks to YouTube for allowing her to post her outrage

Grown Up

Lately we’ve been contemplating and flip flopping about moving and changing jobs just to shake things up a bit. The tough part about this is that there’s no reason for it and definitely wouldn’t get us closer to our ultimate goal, self employment. So after many, many conversations about where we could move, what jobs we could do and how long it would take for us to get bored there and do it all over again Wife and I realized that we needed to stay put, save our money and get ourselves out of debt. This however is far easier said than done. The problem we’re faced with is that I’m the youngest and never have been good with money and Wifecame from a household of psychopaths that made you feel like you weren’t good enough for new things and that if you did get something new you damn well had better appreciate it…so you add these two pieces together and you have my easy going whim of lets just spend until there’s nothing left to spend and Wife’s ingrained desire for new and better things just to prove that she’s not becoming her mother. Not the best combo for saving money, getting out of debt and moving on to our new life of self employed do nothings…

Everyday I drive into work and pass my old high school and watch those kids with envy. So care free, so unaware and just so stupid…I say stupid because I remember what I used to think when I was that age, walking up and down those very same halls. Nothing to worry about because when I left there at 18 I was going to do something I absolutely loved, something that I was passionate about, something that would allow me to continue with my care free out look. Oh man how times have changed…I’m definitely not doing something I love and I am most certainly not passionate about it.

I chalk this all up to the fact that I’ve never really been passionate about something. Years and years of guidance counselors telling me that one day I’d wake up with that burning desire and understanding of my purpose in life and on that day I would know who I was. Well here I am 12 years later and all I know is that they were full of shit man…I am no closer to waking up with that kind of insight than I am at turning wool into gold.

I think the only refuge of hope for a better future is left in my woodwork. I would say that when I’m in the work shop that, that is the closest I have ever been to being passionate about work.

I do honestly believe that this is where I need to focus my life, but it’s difficult…it’s not an easy buck and it definitely takes time to move from the cloudy inspiration in my head to a finished product. Then there’s the fact that I still have to pay those nasty bills like the mortgage and car payments, all of which serve to keep me from spending necessary time in the shop.

So here I am 12 years later and I’m still a confused and frightened 18 year old looking for some light at the end of the tunnel. Torn between making ends meet in a job that I detest and struggling to find an outlet in the work shop. If we could only win that Power Ball jackpot, life would be so much easier…

Bjork mork mork fork…

So the other night we made our first trip to Ikea. Yeah…that was bad, not bad as in oh my God we’re never going back to that hell hole of a place kind of bad. No, no, it was bad as in I will never be able to let Wife venture into the store unaccompanied…EVER…

The moment we walked into the store her eyes were the size of dinner plates and the audible gasp was that of a dying man having found the fountain of youth. I’m chalking this up to the Norse blood coursing through her pale little body having found a strange familiarity in the quirky Swedish designs and various other space saving Northern European furniture.

I will admit that she wasn’t the only one a little excited about the entire ordeal. I mean common, we’ve been living with hand me down furniture that I grew up with, for our entire 6 years of married life. This stuff is so old that I have memories of playing pole position on the Atari 2600 on this furniture, I had chicken pox in the 3rd grade on this furniture, needless to say it’s time to move on, and Ikea is helping to fuel that move. Seriously people…they had a couch that was muy comfortable and was like $350.00…that’s right $350 measly smackers for a new couch. So not only was it comfortable, it was affordable…two of Wife’s favorite words.

I will admit however, that I am a little worried that if we do purchase this furniture, that I’m going to wake up from a nap on the couch to find Wife looming over me, brandishing her viking sword and speaking like the Swedish chef from the Muppets.

Sun Burned Toes

So as of late I’ve been on a vacation rampage. Chalk it up to the dog days of summer or the fact that the only time I ever get a real weekend with the wife is when I’m on vacation or that my job is an unholy pit of despair that there is no escape from…your choice, but I personally like the last one the best.

So for the last 2 weeks I’ve been fighting the urge to book a weeks vacation in Cancun for the sheer guilty pleasure of being out of the country with my toes buried in the sand and a happy tropical drink in my hand. I mean really, what’s wrong with this fantasy? Absolutely nothing except for when I have to return to my dark little pit of a job the following week, only to be bombarded with the upcoming non stop torment that is winter and my job. Wife thinks that this week of bliss would only lead to a downward spiral of drinking way too much after a dark day of work, all in an attempt to remember those happy hours in which I wallowed on some beach in Mexico. Apparently this wouldn’t be healthy, or so says Wife…I think she’s afraid that I’ll just drink all the gin.

So I think my fuzzy beach vacation has been put off to some unforeseen date in the spring. As for now we’re debating about Jackson Hole Wyoming or Viva Las Vegas baby…

I’m a little torn between the two. Vegas is, well Vegas and Jackson is such a kick ass little mountain town, especially in the fall when you practically have the place to yourself. I honestly think I’m leaning more towards Jackson. Something about the cool pre-winter/post autumn air, a warm fire place and the mountains…gotta love the mountains as well as the sheer beauty of Jackson.

I’m also a little torn because the absolute best 2 meals that I have ever had have been from both areas. In Jackson you have the Snake River Grill that produces the best food that has ever touched anyone’s lips. Then you have Vegas and some teeny tiny little Italian shop/restaurant in the Venician…

I’m thinking Jackson…slower pace, great food, a warm cozy room, and nothing to worry about…
Then again…

Jackson does seem to have their priorities right. I mean any town in which your after dinner liquor is bigger than your after dinner coffee has got to be doing something right.

We’re not in Utah anymore

This is just too awesome…where I can get one?

Story from CNEWS
God you’ve got to love the Dutch…

WWJD???

So this week I’ve been having trouble with the pictures on the site. One day this one and that one work and the next day this one and that one don’t work, but this other one and that other one does…make sense? No? too bad I’m not repeating myself…

So the wife does a wonderfully lovely thing and attempts to contact our hosts IT guys to figure out just what the hell is going on…am I being hacked? is it those damn aliens again? hmmm who knows at this point because the guys at liquidweb just don’t have a clue either. Not that I’m totally put out, more annoyed at the prospect of having to rework all my pictures.

So to the 3 readers that I have…be patient, I might take the 5 minutes needed to rework those broken links…but then again maybe I’ll just ignore them in hopes that they will just magically repair themselves…yeah, I like that route too…

An Omen II

So yeah…my last post was totally the evidence of things to come at work. The past week has been just plain weird and has made my life a living hell. I’m beginning to think that there might be a little of the “D” word going on here…you know what “D” word I’m talking about, the one that corporations absolutely fear and loath? no? Ok, ok…it’s the one that starts with “D” and is followed by “i” and “s”. I know it sounds obscure and unlikely that a male in today’s working world would be facing such a term, usually it’s the other way around with the male being accused of the big “D”, but as each day passes by I’m really beginning to think that it’s true, that I’m a victim of the dreaded “D”. Could it be true? I’m not sure, but it’s beginning to feel like it’s true and that usually means it is in the corporate world.

Anyway as I was saying earlier…this week has been HELL, and all because my direct supervisor has this keen ability to take something minor and pump it so full of hot air that you could strap a basket to it and charge $9.99 for kiddie rides. Plain and simple, this week has just sucked…I wish I could go into specifics, but I just can’t…damn my moral fiber…

Yeah yeah…Biiiitches

The first floor is officially complete. The hardwood is down, the base and casing is on and the painting has been, well painted….

I know…in these pictures there isn’t any base board, but common, I’m only one man so these will have to do for now.

By the Way Batch…F*** YOU

Awesome song by Liam Sullivan…Everyone should have it in their IPod, you know you want it…

I was just strolling through YouTube and came across this weird ass song that was infectious…I mean common…who doesn’t love shoes…maybe communists, but there’s no accounting for taste.
Thanks to, A Liam Show, you should check it out…he ROCKS OUT LOUD!

An Omen

So today after parking in the parking garage at work I noticed this:

That’s right, according to my radio I have officially landed in hell. Please return your seat backs and tray tables to the upright position because we’re landing in hell…I especially love that Hell can be found in my FM2 presets. You have gotta love that Japanese ingenuity, Oh this truck is going to America? Well then we better make sure that the radio is prest to 666.666 FM, the very best of Hell’s number one hits…”and here’s our newest chart topper, Hitler burns with a pineapple in his ass”

The best part was that it’s Friday the 13th…Now all I need is hockey mask and I’m ready for the 2:30 accounting meeting

Hallelujha the floor is done

So it’s been 2 weeks and I know you all are dying for the update. Well get off my back…I mean sheesh, gimme a break here, I’ve been busy with…stuff…yeah…stuff…

So did I mention the floor is done? Yeah that’s right baby, the floor is done. Well almost done, half of it still needs a final coat of sealer but it’s grouted and looks sweet, would I lie to you? See look, the dogs like it.

I told you it was sweet…
Here’s the rest…yeah I know, it totally kicks ass over your floor…

Now I just have to put the hardwood down in the rest of the room…you might want to go get a drink or a snack…or better yet a drink and a snack, this might take awhile.

Feeling a little nastolgic today

This morning as I was cruising around YouTube I came across one of my favorite Strong Bad emails of all time…it’s a classic and everyone should love it the way I do…

I mean really…if you don’t love Strong Bad, you must be a communist!
Thanks to HomeStarRunner for producing such a trend setter as Strong Bad

Daaa na na na Spida Maaaaan

SpidaMan

That’s right…Spida Maaaan is back and he’s got a hankerin for some Oxycontin. It seems that we’ve got a Spidy fan out there that has attempted one too many of his own stunts and needs a little help with the pain. So he does what any true Spidy fan would do…hold up the nearest pharmacy wearing his Spidy mask to conceal his secret identity…
Thanks to Metro.co.uk for bringing us this tale

Behind Door #1

Things got a little overwhelming on days 3-5. For some reason I just didn’t get things done as quickly as I had planned. I think it was due to the multiple trips I had to make to the that giant home store…you know the one I’m talking about, they seem to like ORANGE quite a bit. So yeah, after numerous trips to multiple locations of this store in an attempt to locate the various pieces I needed to complete my plan, I simply ran out of time. So rather than completing all of my devious schemes I only accomplished 75% of them.
On day 3 I found some lovely parting gifts under the washer and dryer though. I swear that as I pulled the washer out from it’s little cubby hole of a closet, I could hear dear old Wink declaring “And behind Door #1 IS”
A lovely pair of mismatched socks COVERED in dryer lint, and only God knows what (and yes…those are the wayward socks that you can barely make out just under the water lines, now you know where to look the next time you lose one of the two)

And behind door #2 we have?
MORE LINT…that’s right you’ve won a life time supply of old dryer lint…aren’t you lucky! You’ll also notice that you’ve won a gaping hole in the drywall…



Aren’t they great? Gifts from the previous owner and tenants of our wonderful home. I better clarify a little before Wife takes it upon herself to skin me alive for posting these for everyone to enjoy. We bought our home from a woman that I honestly don’t believe cleaned anything. On top of this she had rented it out to another woman who I know DIDN’T clean a damn thing in the house, EVER! She left everything filthy, cat pee soaked and smelly. When we took ownership as renters we scrubbed and cleaned and bleached everything we could think of…unfortunately this area escaped our gaze. Even when we purchased the place and went through all the renovations last year, this area once again escaped our attention. Not the best excuse, but an excuse none the less.
Days 4 & 5 didn’t bring me lovely parting gifts like day 3, but it did bring me a nice coat of fresh new paint…officially turning this last refuge of the previous owner and renters to an end…THANK GOD…
This is the new laundry area…
The glow isn’t over exposure from the camera…it’s the divine glow of the clean and freshly painted closet…you mean you didn’t know that God is in a coat of fresh paint? Well now you do…so go forth and paint my children…paint…

This is our sweet new fan, purchased from the giant Orange store for a whopping $49.99. What do you get for this great value you ask? Well you get two scratched fan blades and 3 burned out light bulbs out of 4…such a value I don’t know how I will ever be able to move on.
I only wish that I had a camera when Wife came home on Wednesday. It was a glorious sight as she walked in on an entry way missing all of it’s tile. That picture would have been priceless, and would most likely have brought me fame and fortune…but I didn’t and now I’m the only one that gets to experience that image. I like to think that I made an impact that day…one that says don’t ever leave me alone for more than a day, if you do, you never know what you might come home to find.
Thankfully all that is left of our great remodel is door casing and some base board. The slate entry is ready to be put down and some hardwood laminate to finish off the office and the house is officially finished…but that’s for another day…

Day 2

Thank God today is done…Can I just say that I absolutely HATE, and I mean HATE plaster work. Hours of thinning joint compound and then rolling it on the walls or splotching it on the ceiling. Had I been smart about this I would have rented a texture sprayer, but that wouldn’t build character now would it.

I also took some time to get the old nasty tile chipped out while the finish coat of joint compound dried this morning. I’m not sure how well the slate is going to go down with all the old thinset still on the concrete, but there’s no way I’m chipping all that out…what a pain in the ass that would be.

So now that the dirty work is done it’s time to start painting…but that’s tomorrow’s job.
While I was attempting to cover the walls and ceiling with texture I kept thinking about how my brothers and I were constantly being placed into situations that help grow character. What I mean by this is that my parents for one reason or another felt it necessary to build a new house every 3 or 4 years, and to help us grow character they turned us into their own little sweat shop day laborers. I mean really, how many contractor hours they must have saved with their version of cheap labor. However, had it not been for Mom and Dad ignoring the vast number of child labor laws, there is absolutely no way I would be capable of pulling these jobs off. So I guess there was character to be built along with the houses after all, and thanks owed to Mom and Pop for sending it my way.

Surprise Surprise

So it’s been a year since we first started renovating our house…did I mention that we took the winter off even though all we had left from last summer’s projects were to paint some door jambs, doors and the entry? Yeah, we’re a bunch of lazy bastards…So here it is a year later and mere thought of these unfinished products just makes me itchy…and I say itchy because that’s how the noise in my head manifests itself when it has filled every square inch of gray matter to the point that my head is about to explode into a gooey mess. The other problem is that when the noise gets to this level of crazy loud it begins to stretch out its little tentacles, searching for any other little issue that it can grasp and then adds it to itself and cranks up the volume another few decibels. What’s been added to the already deafening roar in my head lately? Oh, only our unfinished office/laundry room and nasty entry tile floor.

The best part of this deal is that Wife left this morning to attend a convention in Colorado through Wednesday. She attempted to woo me into attending the convention with her, but the thought of spending nearly a week with a bunch of drunken convention goers just didn’t sound like my kind of scene. Plus I have the noise to deal with and what a better weekend to do than this…Wife out of town and I have the next five days off…perfect for a little noise control if I do say so myself. Even better than that is that Wife has no clue as to what I’m up to…happy early anniversary…

On the list for this week…dry wall, plaster, painting, painting and more painting…oh and a sweet ass new slate floor in the entry…ah yeah

Take Anything You Want…1 & 2 & 3

VERY strange video from Japan…

I found this little gem while cruising YouTube tonight. It’s a video/workout that teaches Japanese women English so when they’re mugged on vacation they have something to say. Very strange indeed…

Shaaaad up and get me another one

Interesting trends they have in Japan… The TV commercial is a MUST see

Thanks to: CScout Japan

Oh SO Wrong

And yet I can’t seem to look away….
Thanks to:
Bizaare News

Too Lame to be EMO

So today I came across a pretty sweet website onesentence.org
That’s when I stumbled across this “too lame to be emo”
This whole thing reminds of one of my wife’s posts: Good Lord

What The FETCH

Earlier this week I was staring blankly into the bathroom mirror in an attempt to psych myself up for yet another fun filled day at work when I noticed something. Not the bags under my eyes or that extra 50 pounds sagging from my 30 year old frame, but a bright white beacon of old age sticking proudly out of my top lip. So it was true after all, that flicker of silver that I had noticed in my mustache over the past few weeks really was, a gray hair…Not a happy little blond one that seems to pop up fromtime to time, no no that would be fine, this one just HAD to be gray.

So why the freak out over one little gray hair? well…it’s probably due to what I didn’t notice in the mirror…you know, the 50, hell who am I kidding, more like 70-80 extra pounds. It seems to me that the past 10 years have not been the best to me and I have not been the best to myself. I remember in high school vowing to never let my ass grow to the size it is now…there’s no chance in hell that will ever happen I used to think. Oh how naive of me, refusing to accept that one day I too was going to have to join the real world, where everyone knows it would most likely require the use of an office chair and a computer for at least 6 of the 8 painful hours a day. For those of you out there that don’t understand let me clarify, an office chair equals at least 40 pounds added to your ass as soon as it touches it for the first time. Throwing a computer in front of it adds another 40. So lets say that I’ve been glued to an office chair and computer for 7 out of the last 10 years, just imagine the enormity that it has grown into. It has been growing and growing until it has reached the Jupiterisch size it is today. And I say Jupiterisch to better grasp the sheer size and weight that it is. So there you go world…I’m a fatty, a big ole stereotypical American fatty.

But you see this is where that gray hair comes into play. That one little gray hair has helped me to notice those things that I have been over looking for the past 10 years. Things like my weight and image, my lack of energy and just how lazy I’ve become. That gray hair has helped to spur me into action, to let me know that hey pal, you’re 30 now…not the end of the world, but the way that you are heading it very well could be, perhaps it’s time to do something about that extra tonnage. So here I am, the first week of a new beginning. And man o man let me tell you how it sucks. I am not a fan of healthy items, I never was, so how it was possible to stay in shape throughout my high school years is news to me. But I’m still here, bound and determined that this is the time and this is the place that my ass will no longer cling to the office chair and I will return to a healthy weight.
You know it’s funny…it’s not the deformity in one of my heart valves that plagues me from time to time that has spurred this motivation, it was a pointless gray hair.

Sometimes I wonder

Who put the “Ram” in Ramalamadingdong?
And just what the hell is a Ramalamadingdong?
And just why the hell does it need a barn yard animal?

Brave New World

So the wife and I have been contemplating this whole blog thing for the past few months. When I say the past few what I really mean is like the last 8 or so. It seems to me that the more technology that Wife and I get thrown at us, the more we seem to slow down. For example, we just got DVR service at the end of last summer, God only knows what we were thinking for the many moons before that, back when we had rummage through our moldly old porn stash for a blank video tape to record something really important like “New Yankee Workshop”. So when we finally decided to take the plunge and start up a couple of different sites (1 for her, 1 for me and 1 for my pseudo hobby hoping to turn profession) we had absolutely no idea what we were getting into.

It seems to me that the wife and I do this fairly regularly…find a new outlet for all the noise inside our heads and run in that direction. One day it’s listening to carefully compiled play lists on my ipod. Other days it’s going to the gym to run the noise down like stationary bike road kill…all this while trying to avoid the crotch shot from the overly muscular woman on the kegelsizor I might add. And then there are the other days when it’s talking to myself in the car, totally oblivious to the passing cars dialing 911 because it’s obvious that I’m an escaped mental patient who has gone way too long without his meds. So when Wife suggested that we start blogging, I thought of it as a way to get rid of the noise in a more healthy way…by placing it on the internet. Yeah… that totally makes sense to me too. But the more I thought about it the more it actually began to make sense. In today’s world where there is no privacy in anything…why fight it? So we climbed aboard, flung open the windows and let the weirdo’s take a peek. what a better way to get out the noise than to just post it and forget it. Someone doesn’t like it, tough titties says I. At least my head is clear enough to remember my meds for once.