So hey, guess what? For the last 2 days I have been on a jury for a civil court session. 1st time I've ever received a summons, and dang if I'm not picked. We go in, and you see this dude with a Joe Dirt style manscaping on his face and the beady eyes, so you know he's the guilty one.
I guess it was because I wasn't smart enough to come up with some lame excuse like several of the others. When asked if any of us had any physical issues that would not allow us to maintain attention to the trial while seated for a few hours at a time, one lady said "I have a small bladder and I'm a nervous person!"
Apparently that's all it takes, as she didn't make the cut.
Another guy just out of no where says "I think that cops are too lenient on people they're chasing! They need to pull out their guns more! If some guy's runnin' from the law, then pull your gun out and end it right now!"
Again, didn't make it. Joe Dirt's got a huge WTF!?! look to it, but needless to say Dirty Harry didn't get picked either. It ended up being me and 6 other average people. Thankfully.
Well, come to find out now that we're all settled in that Joe Dirt is not on trial, rather he's suing to county prison he was incarcerated in back like 3 years earlier. The quick version of the trial was that Joe Dirt got sucker punched by his cell mate in the lower back on the left side. Although complaining on hurting inside the whole trial was about the jailers not reacting in timely fashion to his pain. Ended up that like 26 hours later he was taken to the hospital and they found out his spleen had ruptured, and he was like 6 hours away from bleeding to death!
Good gravy!
But enough about that, I'm not here to talk about the boring ass trial. If you must know, we ruled partly in favor of him, and he was awarded $3200. Weeee....
What I want to talk about are the freaks at this court. This court guy, which I have no idea what he was doing other than officially look busy as he just bustled around in front of his computer and his notepad (legal size, naturally). He would leave, come back, sit down, this, that, etc. Since I had nothing important to pay attention to, I watched him for like 2 hours.
At first I thought he was trying to hide yawns all the time, but it dawned on me that this dude must have been blind as a bat or something, as he would lean waaaaaaaay in to his screen, like less than 3 inches from it! Also, when he would write on his notepad, it was so close to his face his pen would be by his ear. Ok, so I guess he has some issue, so I quit watching him after another 30 minutes. Court is really fucking boring. It's not like it was going anywhere.
Next up, lawyers. Lawyers are dicks. All of them. Dicks. Lawyer is probably derived from some Latin word that means shape of the phallus. Just the mannerisms they had was driving me nuts. On the plaintiff's side, we had the late 50's looking guy, and the defense was a mid 30's dude. It must be something they are taught in law school, like Arrogant Swagger 301. Especially for the young dude, he must have been the TA or something. To walk from his desk to the podium took him 30 seconds. This wasn't the Supreme Court, it was 12 feet away!
Also, they both had all these asshole mannerisms. During a 20 minute conversation, the old dude put on and took off his glasses 47 TIMES!!! Yes, I counted. The young dude didn't wear glasses, so he had to make up for this shortcoming by having independent control of every involuntary muscle in his face. I firmly believe he could have used his face to express every human emotion at the exact same moment. And the hair, they all had the lawyer hair! And the suits! It just made you want to puke! Maybe I'm just naive, but I believe any court process could be figured out in like 20 minutes if it weren't for all the BS that lawyers bring to the table.
Ok, so fuck them. I can't waste any more skin from my fingers talking about how annoying they were.
The case is now 1/2 way done for the 1st day. I know exactly what ever ceiling tile looks like and which ones are hanging out of place. I noticed that on the steel kick plate on our little Jury wall of safety that all the screws are perfectly vertical (and thank God, otherwise I would have had to screamed out for a mistrial). I also noticed that my ass was about 1 inch too wide for the chair for it to be comfortable for 2 day ordeal. I probably looked like that dude on the Preparation H commercial, shifting from side to side every 5 minutes.
Oh yeah, one time out of nowhere my stomach made one of those internal fart sounds. Kind of like a humpback whale calling the young home for dinner. Hurry your ass up Moby, the street like is kicking on!
Travesty strikes me at this point.
The guy sitting next to me in the Jury box, and also all through the deliberations afterwards, HAS NO THUMBS!!!! I'm not meaning lost in an accident type of no thumbs, I mean "Hi, my name if Bob, and I ain't got any thumbs from never!" Talk about attention holding.
When you would look at them from the top, it looked like just 4 fingers, other than the index finger was this super finger or something, being bigger, stronger, and faster than your run of the mill finger. What really sucked in your attention was when you looked at the palm side. Imagine if you could push your thumb up on your hand towards your index, and bring the index down to the thumb and they meet in the middle. They then merge into the Devistator of digits. From the palms you couldn't tell if it was a really long thumb or an oddly shaped index.
And dang it, I'm not trying to be an asshole, but he was a handsy talker! He was constantly stirring these things around in the air while he talked, since he was the jury leader. Constantly counting out the points of his argument, constantly clicking his pen open and closed, and constantly opening his water bottle. Shit like that. Maybe he could have just worn a t-shirt that said "hay, look at me and my no thumbs! I'm gonna make you uncomfortable with your 10 digits!!"
So all I worry about now is not to slip and say something like "yeah, I'm all thumbs when it comes to all this paperwork." I really wanted to ask how a person wipes their behind like that, or does he carry a special glove around that has a thumb on it for just such an occasion? These are important facts. I could be in some tragic masturbatory accident tomorrow, and have to live the rest of my life without my thumbs. I'd sure which then that I had the gumption to ask.
Well, at least from all this I didn't walk away empty handed. I earned $80, plus got a cool lapel pin. I'll have to break that out the next time I ever have a lapel on.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Man's Best Friend
Wow, it's been a while since I've put any of these up. Well, I can't believe I totally forgot to add my doggy-poopy story, so here goes. :)
Several years ago, we still had all 3 of our dogs; 2 retrievers and a big ol' St. Bernard. Anyone with dogs has a horror story about some doings of said dog, but I'd like to say ours was probably the most heavy duty that I've heard.
It all started at about 3:00am one autumn morning. Naturally, as any disaster story goes, it couldn't have been on a Saturday, but no it was middle of the work week. Me being the much lighter sleeper, I was woken up by the sound of pouring water, and a dog whining. Great! One of them must not have peed when I let them out before bed, so now they're doing it right there in our room! Our whole house is hardwood flooring, save the 3 bedrooms being carpet. What better place to take a wizzer than on the carpet, right?
I was wrong.
A fast moving dog poop smell came across my face like a ton of bricks. Dogs have an unnatural smell about their poop or even farts, in that for some reason you can feel them coming. I swear I can almost tell it's creeping across my face before I hit my nose. When your spouse farts in the bed or whatnot, it always slowly fades in, letting you keep enough of your faculties to deal with what's about to happen. Not so with dogs. It's like "pleasant...pleasant...pleasant...SICKNESS!!!"
So anyways, I get the smell. I reach over to turn on both bed lamps and NOT put my feet on the floor until I've ascertained what's the commotion. I've learned at least that much through life lessons. Our smallest dog, Wednesday, is sleeping on my side of the bed. That's ok. Our middle dog Auggie is standing at the door of the room, as to her any movement on my part means it's dinner time. Ok, she's safe. That only leaves our 130lb St. Bernard, Ellie May.
It's amazing how under certain circumstances like duress your mind can become extremely clear and efficient in an instant. From what I saw, I most likely had the mind power to levitate myself. There were seven dinner plate piles of dog liquidump all over the place! Pile may not be the appropriate word, unless you serve your homemade soup by the pile.
Holy Crap!
Well, after I coaxed her outside (of course leaving a drip trail down the hallway) as nicely as I could muster, I got to work. When we moved into this house, we yard sale'd our "good" carpet cleaner. Hell, we only had like 3 little rooms of carpet. We kept the smaller wussy one though. I'm pretty sure if I would have read the instructions more carefully, it probably wasn't rated for the HAZMAT disaster I had to deal with.
So there I am, working this piece of crap cleaning device, at 3:00 in the morning, in my underwear. Getting dressed was not a priority at this point. To make it just a tad worse, some retard in the past had the bright idea to invent bur bur carpeting. This makes it horrible to clean with a fluid cleaner vacuum like this, as it can't get down to those lower levels as easy as normal carpet. The only thing that would help is if I stood a foot on the top of this contraption, all while pushing it back and forth over the ick.
This is when my wife woke up. She's such a peach.
Standing there, lights on, dog fertilizer everywhere, stinking so bad you could see it, and pushing a substandard appliance around while straddling it like Captain Morgan in my whitie-tighties, she says "did something happen?"
After 20 minutes of making absolutely no difference, I got out my utility knife and cut out a huge section of the carpet and padding, drug it outside to the back yard, hosed off the dog, put her in the garage, climbed in bed, said a quick prayer and went to sleep.
The next day, we found out that Ellie had some kind of stomach bug apparently. My wife was in our youngest daughter's room playing some girl game her, like princess pony cutie-pie or whatever. In walks Ellie with a very worried expression. It's all my wife can do to shout "NOOO!!! GET OUT!!!!" and try to at least shoo her out to the wood hall. Too little, too late. As Ellie turned around, she let out a stream of bun nectar, effectively drive-bying the wall of our little angel's room. Surprisingly not too many things were hit. The rocking horse however was not so lucky, gunned down in it's prime.
When I came home from work to see all this, she had already taken everything out of the room, including the entire floor's carpeting, and the rest of our master bedroom carpeting. Talk about a little trooper! Told you she was a peach. :)
Needless to say, we lived on bare floors that were painted with about 15 gallons of Kilz paint until we were abso-frickin-lutely sure Ellie was over whatever was upsetting her tummy. Took about 2 weeks and too many trips out to the yard to secretly watch her poop to make sure it was normal nuggets. Yes it had to be secret, as she won't go if you're standing there watching. I can understand that though, as I'm pretty sure I couldn't poop on command for an audience.
By the end of the ordeal, we had newly painted floors, newly painted walls, and brand new carpet to the tune of $1200 total. I must be insane though, as of all our dogs Ellie's the one I miss the most. :)
Several years ago, we still had all 3 of our dogs; 2 retrievers and a big ol' St. Bernard. Anyone with dogs has a horror story about some doings of said dog, but I'd like to say ours was probably the most heavy duty that I've heard.
It all started at about 3:00am one autumn morning. Naturally, as any disaster story goes, it couldn't have been on a Saturday, but no it was middle of the work week. Me being the much lighter sleeper, I was woken up by the sound of pouring water, and a dog whining. Great! One of them must not have peed when I let them out before bed, so now they're doing it right there in our room! Our whole house is hardwood flooring, save the 3 bedrooms being carpet. What better place to take a wizzer than on the carpet, right?
I was wrong.
A fast moving dog poop smell came across my face like a ton of bricks. Dogs have an unnatural smell about their poop or even farts, in that for some reason you can feel them coming. I swear I can almost tell it's creeping across my face before I hit my nose. When your spouse farts in the bed or whatnot, it always slowly fades in, letting you keep enough of your faculties to deal with what's about to happen. Not so with dogs. It's like "pleasant...pleasant...pleasant...SICKNESS!!!"
So anyways, I get the smell. I reach over to turn on both bed lamps and NOT put my feet on the floor until I've ascertained what's the commotion. I've learned at least that much through life lessons. Our smallest dog, Wednesday, is sleeping on my side of the bed. That's ok. Our middle dog Auggie is standing at the door of the room, as to her any movement on my part means it's dinner time. Ok, she's safe. That only leaves our 130lb St. Bernard, Ellie May.
It's amazing how under certain circumstances like duress your mind can become extremely clear and efficient in an instant. From what I saw, I most likely had the mind power to levitate myself. There were seven dinner plate piles of dog liquidump all over the place! Pile may not be the appropriate word, unless you serve your homemade soup by the pile.
Holy Crap!
Well, after I coaxed her outside (of course leaving a drip trail down the hallway) as nicely as I could muster, I got to work. When we moved into this house, we yard sale'd our "good" carpet cleaner. Hell, we only had like 3 little rooms of carpet. We kept the smaller wussy one though. I'm pretty sure if I would have read the instructions more carefully, it probably wasn't rated for the HAZMAT disaster I had to deal with.
So there I am, working this piece of crap cleaning device, at 3:00 in the morning, in my underwear. Getting dressed was not a priority at this point. To make it just a tad worse, some retard in the past had the bright idea to invent bur bur carpeting. This makes it horrible to clean with a fluid cleaner vacuum like this, as it can't get down to those lower levels as easy as normal carpet. The only thing that would help is if I stood a foot on the top of this contraption, all while pushing it back and forth over the ick.
This is when my wife woke up. She's such a peach.
Standing there, lights on, dog fertilizer everywhere, stinking so bad you could see it, and pushing a substandard appliance around while straddling it like Captain Morgan in my whitie-tighties, she says "did something happen?"
After 20 minutes of making absolutely no difference, I got out my utility knife and cut out a huge section of the carpet and padding, drug it outside to the back yard, hosed off the dog, put her in the garage, climbed in bed, said a quick prayer and went to sleep.
The next day, we found out that Ellie had some kind of stomach bug apparently. My wife was in our youngest daughter's room playing some girl game her, like princess pony cutie-pie or whatever. In walks Ellie with a very worried expression. It's all my wife can do to shout "NOOO!!! GET OUT!!!!" and try to at least shoo her out to the wood hall. Too little, too late. As Ellie turned around, she let out a stream of bun nectar, effectively drive-bying the wall of our little angel's room. Surprisingly not too many things were hit. The rocking horse however was not so lucky, gunned down in it's prime.
When I came home from work to see all this, she had already taken everything out of the room, including the entire floor's carpeting, and the rest of our master bedroom carpeting. Talk about a little trooper! Told you she was a peach. :)
Needless to say, we lived on bare floors that were painted with about 15 gallons of Kilz paint until we were abso-frickin-lutely sure Ellie was over whatever was upsetting her tummy. Took about 2 weeks and too many trips out to the yard to secretly watch her poop to make sure it was normal nuggets. Yes it had to be secret, as she won't go if you're standing there watching. I can understand that though, as I'm pretty sure I couldn't poop on command for an audience.
By the end of the ordeal, we had newly painted floors, newly painted walls, and brand new carpet to the tune of $1200 total. I must be insane though, as of all our dogs Ellie's the one I miss the most. :)
Friday, October 10, 2008
Why do there have to be Big Spiders?
This is a story by memory from 4 years back, when we 1st moved into our last house that had an in-ground pool. This was the 1st pool I ever had to maintain.
So we have our 1st pool, and I'm really hating it. These things are way too much trouble than what you get out of them. That's why there are community pools, that are nice and big and taken care of by OTHER PEOPLE!
Owning an in-ground pool has its own special subset of entertainment. Apparently every creature small enough to fit through the fence is Emo. At least once a week I pull out a dead baby bird, dead mole, a few dead frogs, and a buffet of insects. The worst ever was a tiny kitten. :( I had a hard time with that one.
So, basically my routine was to go out and clean the skimmer basket while I'm letting our dogs out 1st thing in the morning. This is fine in the summer months, as the sun is already peeking out, but when it got into early September, it would still be fairly dark. Since all the above mentioned critters have the potential to be deep six'd in the thing, I had the foresight to keep a bungee cord nearby that I could use as a fish hook to grab the basket's handle and pull it out without plunging my hand into the water.
On this particular day though, it was nowhere to be found. CRAP! Oh well, I just have to stick my hand in, and hope I don't feel anything squishy. Luckily I don't. Unluckily, I feel something tickly. Then more and more and MORE tickly. There are "things" climbing up my arm from the sensation, but I was still sleepy enough to be like "well, isn't that an odd sensation. I wonder what could be crawling up my arm at this hour in the morning? Well, no other way to find out than to look I guess. Ok, let's do that!"
By this time, the ticklish feeling was well past my elbow, but oddly still went down to my hands. Once I had the wherewithall to look down, I was practically face to face with 6 or so of the most ginormous spiders I had ever seen! These things were like the size of those gag gift rubber spiders, easily as big as a computer mouse!
I'm assuming our neighbors were perplexed, in that they weren't aware that a 10 year old girl was a part of our family, and why she would be out by the pool screaming at 5:00am on a weekday.
Yeah, I was a "bit unsettled" by them. After doing that flailing/wiping dance that everyone knows from prehistoric instincts stored in our DNA, I was able to control myself to try to memorize on of the spiders so I could look up what it was.
Here it is, the Rabid Wolf Spider:
So we have our 1st pool, and I'm really hating it. These things are way too much trouble than what you get out of them. That's why there are community pools, that are nice and big and taken care of by OTHER PEOPLE!
Owning an in-ground pool has its own special subset of entertainment. Apparently every creature small enough to fit through the fence is Emo. At least once a week I pull out a dead baby bird, dead mole, a few dead frogs, and a buffet of insects. The worst ever was a tiny kitten. :( I had a hard time with that one.
So, basically my routine was to go out and clean the skimmer basket while I'm letting our dogs out 1st thing in the morning. This is fine in the summer months, as the sun is already peeking out, but when it got into early September, it would still be fairly dark. Since all the above mentioned critters have the potential to be deep six'd in the thing, I had the foresight to keep a bungee cord nearby that I could use as a fish hook to grab the basket's handle and pull it out without plunging my hand into the water.
On this particular day though, it was nowhere to be found. CRAP! Oh well, I just have to stick my hand in, and hope I don't feel anything squishy. Luckily I don't. Unluckily, I feel something tickly. Then more and more and MORE tickly. There are "things" climbing up my arm from the sensation, but I was still sleepy enough to be like "well, isn't that an odd sensation. I wonder what could be crawling up my arm at this hour in the morning? Well, no other way to find out than to look I guess. Ok, let's do that!"
By this time, the ticklish feeling was well past my elbow, but oddly still went down to my hands. Once I had the wherewithall to look down, I was practically face to face with 6 or so of the most ginormous spiders I had ever seen! These things were like the size of those gag gift rubber spiders, easily as big as a computer mouse!
I'm assuming our neighbors were perplexed, in that they weren't aware that a 10 year old girl was a part of our family, and why she would be out by the pool screaming at 5:00am on a weekday.
Yeah, I was a "bit unsettled" by them. After doing that flailing/wiping dance that everyone knows from prehistoric instincts stored in our DNA, I was able to control myself to try to memorize on of the spiders so I could look up what it was.
Here it is, the Rabid Wolf Spider:
Death by Pool Tarp
I'm trying to do this all from memory, since I can't find the original post I made of this. Don't expect it to be the same, as I'm sure I've forgotten the majority of it, but you'll get the gist.
Back at in the spring of 2008, we lived at a house that had one of those abominations of fun and leisure, an in-ground pool. For all you people that have fun and enjoy a home pool, know that somewhere hidden, most likely indoors, is the person that takes care of that pool. We pull all kinds of dead things out of it for you to enjoy it. Just remember that, ok?
So anyways at the start of the year, it was finally getting warm enough outside that I could open the pool. It's had a huge tarp over it for the past 6 months, which is plenty of time for an assload of leaves to fall and dissolve on it, 100's of birds to crap on it, and dozens of frogs to spawn 1000's of tadpoles on it. By May, this is all stewed itself into a green slimy water that has to 1st be pumped off.
That's the fun part.
Once all that water was off, and it was left for a few days to evaporate the remainder off, which never really happens, as random rain showers will screw it up. I have a whole Saturday to myself for "that yard work that daddy likes to do" while the rest of my family heads off to Holiday World. They get to have fun while I'm struggling with this stinky pool. My wife said "just leave it until I'm back, and I'll help you." That's when my wiener reared it's ugly head.
"Just open it yourself, there's only a tiny bit of water on it, so it'll be easy!" it said. "You'll get it done really fast, plus then you don't have to mess with it tonight, you can be done early" it added. "She'll be impressed you did it yourself, so we could get lucky tonight!" That's all the encouragement I needed. Guys will do all kinds of awful things, such as kill things, lift heavy things, or sit through Longaberger parties if there's the slightest inkling of sex as a reward.
Guys should never be left unattended with their wieners. They always seem to make so much sense at the time, but they just get us in trouble in the long run.
So I start to take the tarp off. Granted, it's just a tarp, but it's like 30' x 70', so all in all that's a lot of square footage to be full of stinky remnants. Anyone that has ever taken a pool tarp off will understand the "last few feet" dilemma. All that tiny surface of water that never evaporated looks like it's really no big deal, but by the time you get all of it out except the last few feet, it's collected into 100 gallons of nightmare juice. How the crap do you get that out, without it busting its symbolic nut all into the comparatively clear water it was protecting?
There are 2 methods. You either have to get something to suck out as much of that water as you can, or you heave it out. Since I'm lazy, I took the latter option and tried to heave it out. That may be counter intuitive, but it's much less time than spending another hour sumping out that spooge. Needless to say my plan backfired, and all that goodness came flipping out the tarp into the water, like a big green cloud covering the water. Oh well, screw it. Let the filter get it I say.
Where was I? Oh yeah, I was about to kill myself.
The next step is to drag this thing around the house to the front driveway to hose off the half year of bird debris and amphibian fornication. There's still lots of live wiggling going on, and a smell that is hard to forget, or wash off. To add insult to injury, it's a VERY windy day. Wind and tarps are not a good combination, so I carry around some concrete blocks to weigh down the corners. I commence hosing. Since it's such a sunny day as well, to stand on the tarp is really hot, as the water is pretty much evaporating on contact. You can see the steam coming off the thing.
I hate wind.
When I'm about half way finished hosing, a huge gust of wind comes up from behind, catches the tarp despite the blocks, and flings it up and over me knocking me down in the process. Since I'm on an angled driveway, I roll down it a few turns, wrapping myself up in this tarp. And it's hot! And I can't get out! Almost instantly, the air gets so hot inside I'm feeling like I'm suffocating. I'm just imagining myself dead on my driveway, wrapped up like a tadpole and fat guy burrito. My wife probably wouldn't notice and would run me over for good measure.
The only thing I could think to do was to roll myself uphill, and in the process unwind the tarp. Luckily, I was only wrapped like 2 turns, so I got out relatively easy. I'm just covered in failed frog sex and dead leaves, but at least I got out. I finish my work in a huff, as well as somehow cleaning out the pool and all its glory. By the time I go in to shower, I'm more or less dry again. Apparently I had some hitchhikers all day, as two tadpoles washed out of my hair. Ewwww!!
Guess how many times I swam in that pool this year? Answer: 2
Back at in the spring of 2008, we lived at a house that had one of those abominations of fun and leisure, an in-ground pool. For all you people that have fun and enjoy a home pool, know that somewhere hidden, most likely indoors, is the person that takes care of that pool. We pull all kinds of dead things out of it for you to enjoy it. Just remember that, ok?
So anyways at the start of the year, it was finally getting warm enough outside that I could open the pool. It's had a huge tarp over it for the past 6 months, which is plenty of time for an assload of leaves to fall and dissolve on it, 100's of birds to crap on it, and dozens of frogs to spawn 1000's of tadpoles on it. By May, this is all stewed itself into a green slimy water that has to 1st be pumped off.
That's the fun part.
Once all that water was off, and it was left for a few days to evaporate the remainder off, which never really happens, as random rain showers will screw it up. I have a whole Saturday to myself for "that yard work that daddy likes to do" while the rest of my family heads off to Holiday World. They get to have fun while I'm struggling with this stinky pool. My wife said "just leave it until I'm back, and I'll help you." That's when my wiener reared it's ugly head.
"Just open it yourself, there's only a tiny bit of water on it, so it'll be easy!" it said. "You'll get it done really fast, plus then you don't have to mess with it tonight, you can be done early" it added. "She'll be impressed you did it yourself, so we could get lucky tonight!" That's all the encouragement I needed. Guys will do all kinds of awful things, such as kill things, lift heavy things, or sit through Longaberger parties if there's the slightest inkling of sex as a reward.
Guys should never be left unattended with their wieners. They always seem to make so much sense at the time, but they just get us in trouble in the long run.
So I start to take the tarp off. Granted, it's just a tarp, but it's like 30' x 70', so all in all that's a lot of square footage to be full of stinky remnants. Anyone that has ever taken a pool tarp off will understand the "last few feet" dilemma. All that tiny surface of water that never evaporated looks like it's really no big deal, but by the time you get all of it out except the last few feet, it's collected into 100 gallons of nightmare juice. How the crap do you get that out, without it busting its symbolic nut all into the comparatively clear water it was protecting?
There are 2 methods. You either have to get something to suck out as much of that water as you can, or you heave it out. Since I'm lazy, I took the latter option and tried to heave it out. That may be counter intuitive, but it's much less time than spending another hour sumping out that spooge. Needless to say my plan backfired, and all that goodness came flipping out the tarp into the water, like a big green cloud covering the water. Oh well, screw it. Let the filter get it I say.
Where was I? Oh yeah, I was about to kill myself.
The next step is to drag this thing around the house to the front driveway to hose off the half year of bird debris and amphibian fornication. There's still lots of live wiggling going on, and a smell that is hard to forget, or wash off. To add insult to injury, it's a VERY windy day. Wind and tarps are not a good combination, so I carry around some concrete blocks to weigh down the corners. I commence hosing. Since it's such a sunny day as well, to stand on the tarp is really hot, as the water is pretty much evaporating on contact. You can see the steam coming off the thing.
I hate wind.
When I'm about half way finished hosing, a huge gust of wind comes up from behind, catches the tarp despite the blocks, and flings it up and over me knocking me down in the process. Since I'm on an angled driveway, I roll down it a few turns, wrapping myself up in this tarp. And it's hot! And I can't get out! Almost instantly, the air gets so hot inside I'm feeling like I'm suffocating. I'm just imagining myself dead on my driveway, wrapped up like a tadpole and fat guy burrito. My wife probably wouldn't notice and would run me over for good measure.
The only thing I could think to do was to roll myself uphill, and in the process unwind the tarp. Luckily, I was only wrapped like 2 turns, so I got out relatively easy. I'm just covered in failed frog sex and dead leaves, but at least I got out. I finish my work in a huff, as well as somehow cleaning out the pool and all its glory. By the time I go in to shower, I'm more or less dry again. Apparently I had some hitchhikers all day, as two tadpoles washed out of my hair. Ewwww!!
Guess how many times I swam in that pool this year? Answer: 2
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Blaxsploitation Provided Free of Charge
(Old message from July 2008)
Something funny just happened. Was on the phone with AT&T paying our corporate long distance. The lady was "overtly" black, and apparently wanted me to know this. I personally do not take any issue with any race, opting to never even utter things like "my black friend", they're just my friends. :)
Ok, so we're going along, give out our info to look us up, and I get an "oh, Indiana huh?" but no other explanation like "my cousin lives there" or anything, so I just sit quiet. Everything's fine, but there's just this vague perception that you could tell she "wanted" me to know she was black.
This apparently backfired on her, big time, which is where the funny comes in. :)
She gets to the point of giving me the confirmation number, which was 1LS4IN. This is how she said it:
"Ok, sir, your confirmation number is the number 1, L as in Luther, S as in Sudan, the number 4, I as in Islam, and N as in Nigge... N... N as in ...."
To which I replied:
"How about N as in Nancy?"
She had it so on the brain I'm assuming that I was going to be some racist hillbilly that she couldn't keep from saying the word. :) I had a hard time keeping my "corporate voice" going instead of laughing.
Something funny just happened. Was on the phone with AT&T paying our corporate long distance. The lady was "overtly" black, and apparently wanted me to know this. I personally do not take any issue with any race, opting to never even utter things like "my black friend", they're just my friends. :)
Ok, so we're going along, give out our info to look us up, and I get an "oh, Indiana huh?" but no other explanation like "my cousin lives there" or anything, so I just sit quiet. Everything's fine, but there's just this vague perception that you could tell she "wanted" me to know she was black.
This apparently backfired on her, big time, which is where the funny comes in. :)
She gets to the point of giving me the confirmation number, which was 1LS4IN. This is how she said it:
"Ok, sir, your confirmation number is the number 1, L as in Luther, S as in Sudan, the number 4, I as in Islam, and N as in Nigge... N... N as in ...."
To which I replied:
"How about N as in Nancy?"
She had it so on the brain I'm assuming that I was going to be some racist hillbilly that she couldn't keep from saying the word. :) I had a hard time keeping my "corporate voice" going instead of laughing.
Please don't call CPS on me
I'm a bad daddy.
So one Saturday night back in April, I just finished giving the kids a bath and was getting them ready for bed. Neal (he's 6) and I start picking on each other trying to whip each other, him using his PJ pants, and me using a towel.
I was swinging slow, so he'd have time to avoid, or he'd block it. Laughing ensues. On the last shot I make, he instead turns to run away, and the towel goes CRACK!!! right behind his knee. One of those 1 in a million, Indiana Jones would be proud, type whip crack sounds. If he was a foot closer or farther, absolutely nothing would have happened.
Being his mother's son, he knows how to lay on a guilt trip. All tear choked he goes "that whip sound hurt real bad. That must be like the whips they used on Jesus at Easter."
So, to even the score, I went out and got the big fatty rubber band from the junk drawer and held it to my arm, and he pulled that bad boy about 1.5 feet away and gave me a good thwack! Then he goes "haha did that hurt? I don't even feel mine anymore!"
My son's a conniving bastard like me.
So one Saturday night back in April, I just finished giving the kids a bath and was getting them ready for bed. Neal (he's 6) and I start picking on each other trying to whip each other, him using his PJ pants, and me using a towel.
I was swinging slow, so he'd have time to avoid, or he'd block it. Laughing ensues. On the last shot I make, he instead turns to run away, and the towel goes CRACK!!! right behind his knee. One of those 1 in a million, Indiana Jones would be proud, type whip crack sounds. If he was a foot closer or farther, absolutely nothing would have happened.
Being his mother's son, he knows how to lay on a guilt trip. All tear choked he goes "that whip sound hurt real bad. That must be like the whips they used on Jesus at Easter."
So, to even the score, I went out and got the big fatty rubber band from the junk drawer and held it to my arm, and he pulled that bad boy about 1.5 feet away and gave me a good thwack! Then he goes "haha did that hurt? I don't even feel mine anymore!"
My son's a conniving bastard like me.
Odd Conversation with my kids
Whole family's in the car for a drive to the fine local Wal-Market establishment. Everyone who has kids knows how those drives are. Questions from almost angle coming in rapid fire. I'm used to this. I pride myself in having an answer, no matter how deep in my butt I have to reach to find it. Only if I'm grouchy will I resort to the "ask your mother", but since she was there with us that one was off the table already. Then the curveball question from "H-E double-hockey sticks" happens.
My son (age 6) says: "What do people taste like?"
O.O
It's not what you think. Our son is a nice, quiet boy. Never gets into trouble. He's also very helpful and whatnot. CRAP!!! That's like every episode of "Unsolved Mysteries"!! It's the quiet guy that end up having a cellar full of human rump roasts! Don't eat those cocktail wieners!
Ok, yes I'm being silly, but it definitely was a WTF type question. My wife bobbed and weaved with the "correct" answers, that people don't do that because other people would miss that person, we only eat animals X, Y, and Z because of our need for protein, and yes there are weird countries that eat animals not on the normal lists, but that's ok for them to do for some reason. I wanted to say "because they're heathens", but I was too busy blurting out the 1st thing that came to me:
Me: "Well, I think women taste like Long John Silvers, just without that malt vinegar."
I could actually feel my face cooking from my wife's death ray glare. She's a peach. :)
Trying to pull it back on track, my wife says "what are some good sources of protein to keep us healthy?" My 4 year old, obviously having missed that entire conversation due to distractions caused by magic squirrels in her pocket, shouts "we buy it at Wal-Mart!"
My son (age 6) says: "What do people taste like?"
O.O
It's not what you think. Our son is a nice, quiet boy. Never gets into trouble. He's also very helpful and whatnot. CRAP!!! That's like every episode of "Unsolved Mysteries"!! It's the quiet guy that end up having a cellar full of human rump roasts! Don't eat those cocktail wieners!
Ok, yes I'm being silly, but it definitely was a WTF type question. My wife bobbed and weaved with the "correct" answers, that people don't do that because other people would miss that person, we only eat animals X, Y, and Z because of our need for protein, and yes there are weird countries that eat animals not on the normal lists, but that's ok for them to do for some reason. I wanted to say "because they're heathens", but I was too busy blurting out the 1st thing that came to me:
Me: "Well, I think women taste like Long John Silvers, just without that malt vinegar."
I could actually feel my face cooking from my wife's death ray glare. She's a peach. :)
Trying to pull it back on track, my wife says "what are some good sources of protein to keep us healthy?" My 4 year old, obviously having missed that entire conversation due to distractions caused by magic squirrels in her pocket, shouts "we buy it at Wal-Mart!"
Monday, September 29, 2008
Not appropriate conversation
On Saturday, our whole rabble went to the Home Depot and Lowes to look for new and exciting things for our house, like soaker hoses and towel bars. Being of the type that oozes efficiency my wife splits the list between us, so we each got a cart and one older kid, then RPS'd for the last. I still think that whole "paper covers rock" is a cop out, so I ended up with Emma (not that we don't love her, but a 2 year old at something as boring/dangerous as a Lowes is always a treat) and our 6 year old Neal.
So we're running (yeah, we're those people) to try to "beat" mommy with our list. She's a conniving f*ck though, as she stacked the deck against us. Everything was scattered all over the store, plus it was the difficult stuff like a tile soap fixture for our tiled shower, and a tub drain fixture. So as we sprint through cross-traffic, we head down the plumbing isle past all the expensive commodes. WTF, who would pay $800 for a poop catcher? They display it with 20 golf balls in it to show what it can do. If I ever passed something as confronting as 20 golf balls, the commode better have a chipper attachment or something.
Then something catches my son's eye.
Neal: "What kind of weird potty is that?"
Me: "Well, that's not really a potty, that's called a bidet."
Neal: "What's that for?"
Me: (points at nozzle thing) "See that, you hover your butt hole over it, and it hoses it off after you go poop."
Neal: "..... ....... So.... Like if you don't wanna wipe?"
Me: "well, I guess so. Maybe just to make sure you got it all, like from squirty poops."
Neal: "heh" ;)
So we then take off and look for stuff. Amy (wife) catches up with me, with a full list completed. We're still looking for the first item. CRAP!
So fast forward 2 days later. I'm home for lunch, and no one but me and Neal know about the above bidet story. Both girls, Amy, and me are sitting around the table (Neal's at school) so I break into a retelling for Amy. The girls could care less, as they are both princesses and are talking to each other on toy phones about their castles in the sky.
After the story, Amy says to me in a hushed tone:
Amy: "I wonder if 'Gee-Aye-Why' men like bidets a whole lot. Tee-hee!"
Me: "Well, I wouldn't know why, they have the same nerve endings there that I do. Maybe I would like it too?"
Amy: "Ewww. Did you have to go there?"
Me: "Yes, yes I did."
...and then...
Princess Mary, after showing no inclination she was listening to us, says in her high pitched "Glenda the Good Witch of the North" voice says:
Mary: "I don't think this is appropriate conversation for the dinner table." /wags finger at us
So we're running (yeah, we're those people) to try to "beat" mommy with our list. She's a conniving f*ck though, as she stacked the deck against us. Everything was scattered all over the store, plus it was the difficult stuff like a tile soap fixture for our tiled shower, and a tub drain fixture. So as we sprint through cross-traffic, we head down the plumbing isle past all the expensive commodes. WTF, who would pay $800 for a poop catcher? They display it with 20 golf balls in it to show what it can do. If I ever passed something as confronting as 20 golf balls, the commode better have a chipper attachment or something.
Then something catches my son's eye.
Neal: "What kind of weird potty is that?"
Me: "Well, that's not really a potty, that's called a bidet."
Neal: "What's that for?"
Me: (points at nozzle thing) "See that, you hover your butt hole over it, and it hoses it off after you go poop."
Neal: "..... ....... So.... Like if you don't wanna wipe?"
Me: "well, I guess so. Maybe just to make sure you got it all, like from squirty poops."
Neal: "heh" ;)
So we then take off and look for stuff. Amy (wife) catches up with me, with a full list completed. We're still looking for the first item. CRAP!
So fast forward 2 days later. I'm home for lunch, and no one but me and Neal know about the above bidet story. Both girls, Amy, and me are sitting around the table (Neal's at school) so I break into a retelling for Amy. The girls could care less, as they are both princesses and are talking to each other on toy phones about their castles in the sky.
After the story, Amy says to me in a hushed tone:
Amy: "I wonder if 'Gee-Aye-Why' men like bidets a whole lot. Tee-hee!"
Me: "Well, I wouldn't know why, they have the same nerve endings there that I do. Maybe I would like it too?"
Amy: "Ewww. Did you have to go there?"
Me: "Yes, yes I did."
...and then...
Princess Mary, after showing no inclination she was listening to us, says in her high pitched "Glenda the Good Witch of the North" voice says:
Mary: "I don't think this is appropriate conversation for the dinner table." /wags finger at us
Why I'm not a plumber
I think I've mentioned before in other settings, we moved into a new house about 4 weeks ago. It has not been the princess fairytale that we were hoping for. We have newly refinished hardwood floors that somehow produce some ick that stick to your feet so it looks like you've been walking in muddy water all day. The gods of wind and trees hates us too, with all the crap that happened from Ike. The house almost caught fire from the downed power line. And some unforeseen hole is in our house I'm guessing, as there are 3 to 45 house flies buzzing around on any given day. My towel snapping prowess has come in handy on that part. I've even managed to hit a few in flight. /flex
But that's kid stuff. I can do those problems in the dark, hands tied behind my back. I have been tempered from everyday problems. Tempered with nightmare.
It all started this last Friday. That morning when I took a shower, you could hear the toilet bubble air every 20 or so seconds. "Great" I thought. Most likely the kids flushed some baby wipes or something (they use those to clean the floor gunk off). I notice then after a test flush the toilet doesn't go down. Oh well, I leave for work. I'll mess with it tonight, as we have another bathroom they can use till then. When I get home, it's seems to have fixed itself. Yay! I give it a THOROUGH test after supper (don't make me say it), and so far all seems well. The kids test it in their own ways as well. Great! Nothing better than problems that fix themselves, right?
(Can you sense the appending doom?)
So after starting a load of laundry we start watching Speed Racer. I'm assuming it's a good movie, as I only saw the 1st 20 minutes. I go to the bathroom, so see the floor covered with water! The waste water from the washing machine was backing itself out the stand-up shower, since it's the lowest drain. Whew, I say, as it's at least fragrantly clean gray water. I shut off the washer, then spend 20 minutes soaking and cleaning the floors with bleach, just to be sure. Problem though, the water is still in the shower. Tried plunging it, but I just hear the water an air bubble out the commode and the sink. NOT GOOD. It's a Friday night, and unless we want to pay emergency $200/hour rates, we're screwed until Monday.
Then I remember. I'm a Man! With a capital M! I held onto my wiener, just for reference and comfort. I bet I can get this going. I've worked construction. So I head to the basement, with a determined look on my face. My wife says "what are you doing?", cause she obviously misconstrued that as a look of "I'm going to go f*ck something up." That's a common misconception for "other" guys apparently. As I enter the basement, I see the main drain sticking from the wall. It has that nice 4" plug on it, with the big square nut on the end. I'm no moron, I know if I take that off, all that water from the shower will come out. But that's what I wanted! To get that water out! I brought the proper tools, flashlight, and an old trash can that could hold like 12 gallons. Piece of cake.
I opened the cap....
So I'm standing in front of this, with that trash can ready to catch the water that runs out. I untwist it to the point I can just snatch it off and grab hold of the trash can. I'm trying to find the best word to describe what happened next. A torrent of water.. A deluge of water.. A metric ass-load of water.. (Take your pick) came FLYING out of the thing! It hits me square in the chest, and hard. The trash can I was holding filled up so fast I dropped it in seconds! I almost stumbled to the ground it was so forceful! As I jumped out of it's continued path, its strong enough to hit the opposite wall 10' away! The floor is instantly covered in about an inch of sewer water! After about 30 seconds, if finally starts to die down. FINALLY I think. I grab up the plug to put it back on, but WTF the pressure builds back up! It does this cycle about 2 times before the DOH sets in. We have a sump pit in our basement (more of a cellar, totally unfinished thankfully) so as the water drained into it, the sump would kick on and reapply it to the far wall. Being a quick thinker, I unplugged it, and finally the cycle stops.
Well, that was fun, eh? Might as well see if I can fix the clog. I find a 10' tent pole that happens to be there, and shove it in the pipe up to my wrist. Trust me, it's not sexy. I can feel the end of it pushing into something. Something I'm sure that's yummy. Since it's a tent peg, and I'm a doofus, naturally it does nothing to fix the problem. So I give up, put the cap back on, plug the sump back in, and let it pump it all back out of the pit. Well, I guess it wasn't a total loss, as I can hear that the water is going out now. Not completely fixed, but at least there's a path out.
That's when I decide to go back upstairs. But 1st I look at myself. Nightmare switches to Freddy Kruger mode. I'm COVERED in bits of toilet paper, and a multitude of other unspeakables! Let's put it this way, I could tell the kids enjoyed the corn on the cob the other day. So I strip naked, walk upstairs and out the side door (thankfully directly from those stairs, so I don't track it through the house), and while standing in my own side yard in the middle of town at the house that everyone likes to drive slowly by and see our tree damage, I'm hosing myself off. My confident wiener is looking for somewhere to go. I think it even had some travel brochures.
I go in the front door, walking past my loving family all nakedy and head straight for the shower. I say "loving family" as none of them looked up from Speed Racer as the fat man that smelled like poop walked by naked. Well, except my wife. My "confident" face was now morphed into my "don't ask me about it" face, which she again misconstrued to be my "please ask me why the house stinks" face. As I enter the bathroom, I hear Neal say "Mommy, I think Emma's poopy."
A competent plumber came out on Monday, and fit his big spinning spring snake thingy down the pipe, and pushed the blockage all the way out to the main sewer line. What caused the clog was there is a large vining plant just above the sewer line, and most likely the roots had entered the pipe. He said "it's good now, the water's flowing beautifully when I tested it now." I told him he has a misconception of what "beautiful" means. His wife works where I do, and when I told her that she said "well that's great, he calls me beautiful too."
It's now 7 days later, and after multiple cleanings by me with a garden hose and bleach, that basement is clean enough to eat off of. Our house when through he stages of smelling like a dump, to a sewer treatment plant, and is now on the final stage of smelling like a retirement home. Hopefully by this Monday we can pretend that the last week never happened.
By the way, I couldn't find my wiener all last week. I think it ran away from home. It sent postcards of itself at Mount Rushmore, with a little stick and handkerchief pack over it's shoulder. But it came home last night, so I sexed my wife for the 1st time since the move. Life is getting back to normal. :)
But that's kid stuff. I can do those problems in the dark, hands tied behind my back. I have been tempered from everyday problems. Tempered with nightmare.
It all started this last Friday. That morning when I took a shower, you could hear the toilet bubble air every 20 or so seconds. "Great" I thought. Most likely the kids flushed some baby wipes or something (they use those to clean the floor gunk off). I notice then after a test flush the toilet doesn't go down. Oh well, I leave for work. I'll mess with it tonight, as we have another bathroom they can use till then. When I get home, it's seems to have fixed itself. Yay! I give it a THOROUGH test after supper (don't make me say it), and so far all seems well. The kids test it in their own ways as well. Great! Nothing better than problems that fix themselves, right?
(Can you sense the appending doom?)
So after starting a load of laundry we start watching Speed Racer. I'm assuming it's a good movie, as I only saw the 1st 20 minutes. I go to the bathroom, so see the floor covered with water! The waste water from the washing machine was backing itself out the stand-up shower, since it's the lowest drain. Whew, I say, as it's at least fragrantly clean gray water. I shut off the washer, then spend 20 minutes soaking and cleaning the floors with bleach, just to be sure. Problem though, the water is still in the shower. Tried plunging it, but I just hear the water an air bubble out the commode and the sink. NOT GOOD. It's a Friday night, and unless we want to pay emergency $200/hour rates, we're screwed until Monday.
Then I remember. I'm a Man! With a capital M! I held onto my wiener, just for reference and comfort. I bet I can get this going. I've worked construction. So I head to the basement, with a determined look on my face. My wife says "what are you doing?", cause she obviously misconstrued that as a look of "I'm going to go f*ck something up." That's a common misconception for "other" guys apparently. As I enter the basement, I see the main drain sticking from the wall. It has that nice 4" plug on it, with the big square nut on the end. I'm no moron, I know if I take that off, all that water from the shower will come out. But that's what I wanted! To get that water out! I brought the proper tools, flashlight, and an old trash can that could hold like 12 gallons. Piece of cake.
I opened the cap....
So I'm standing in front of this, with that trash can ready to catch the water that runs out. I untwist it to the point I can just snatch it off and grab hold of the trash can. I'm trying to find the best word to describe what happened next. A torrent of water.. A deluge of water.. A metric ass-load of water.. (Take your pick) came FLYING out of the thing! It hits me square in the chest, and hard. The trash can I was holding filled up so fast I dropped it in seconds! I almost stumbled to the ground it was so forceful! As I jumped out of it's continued path, its strong enough to hit the opposite wall 10' away! The floor is instantly covered in about an inch of sewer water! After about 30 seconds, if finally starts to die down. FINALLY I think. I grab up the plug to put it back on, but WTF the pressure builds back up! It does this cycle about 2 times before the DOH sets in. We have a sump pit in our basement (more of a cellar, totally unfinished thankfully) so as the water drained into it, the sump would kick on and reapply it to the far wall. Being a quick thinker, I unplugged it, and finally the cycle stops.
Well, that was fun, eh? Might as well see if I can fix the clog. I find a 10' tent pole that happens to be there, and shove it in the pipe up to my wrist. Trust me, it's not sexy. I can feel the end of it pushing into something. Something I'm sure that's yummy. Since it's a tent peg, and I'm a doofus, naturally it does nothing to fix the problem. So I give up, put the cap back on, plug the sump back in, and let it pump it all back out of the pit. Well, I guess it wasn't a total loss, as I can hear that the water is going out now. Not completely fixed, but at least there's a path out.
That's when I decide to go back upstairs. But 1st I look at myself. Nightmare switches to Freddy Kruger mode. I'm COVERED in bits of toilet paper, and a multitude of other unspeakables! Let's put it this way, I could tell the kids enjoyed the corn on the cob the other day. So I strip naked, walk upstairs and out the side door (thankfully directly from those stairs, so I don't track it through the house), and while standing in my own side yard in the middle of town at the house that everyone likes to drive slowly by and see our tree damage, I'm hosing myself off. My confident wiener is looking for somewhere to go. I think it even had some travel brochures.
I go in the front door, walking past my loving family all nakedy and head straight for the shower. I say "loving family" as none of them looked up from Speed Racer as the fat man that smelled like poop walked by naked. Well, except my wife. My "confident" face was now morphed into my "don't ask me about it" face, which she again misconstrued to be my "please ask me why the house stinks" face. As I enter the bathroom, I hear Neal say "Mommy, I think Emma's poopy."
A competent plumber came out on Monday, and fit his big spinning spring snake thingy down the pipe, and pushed the blockage all the way out to the main sewer line. What caused the clog was there is a large vining plant just above the sewer line, and most likely the roots had entered the pipe. He said "it's good now, the water's flowing beautifully when I tested it now." I told him he has a misconception of what "beautiful" means. His wife works where I do, and when I told her that she said "well that's great, he calls me beautiful too."
It's now 7 days later, and after multiple cleanings by me with a garden hose and bleach, that basement is clean enough to eat off of. Our house when through he stages of smelling like a dump, to a sewer treatment plant, and is now on the final stage of smelling like a retirement home. Hopefully by this Monday we can pretend that the last week never happened.
By the way, I couldn't find my wiener all last week. I think it ran away from home. It sent postcards of itself at Mount Rushmore, with a little stick and handkerchief pack over it's shoulder. But it came home last night, so I sexed my wife for the 1st time since the move. Life is getting back to normal. :)
Collecting my Woes
Ok, at the behest of several people I'm making sure to keep a copy of all my stories on something a little more long lived than the World of Warcraft forums. It stinks that several have already vanished out the bung of the interwebs, but hopefully I can recant them enough so that they're accurate.
Accurate? Yes, hard to believe but a lot of what you will be reading here is actual life events for me and my poor anonymous family. I am apparently a magnet for happenstance. Don't expect any "boy, I ate a sausage biscuit today, and I'm all burpy" type entries. I'm talking about dog fecal nightmares, spiders, and other man problems like how to unclog a sewer line, pool tarp near death experiences, or what not to do to get the sex time with misses.
If any of you coming here remember a story I've told, let me know so I can fish it out, or recreate it. Here's what I remember so far:
- Why I'm not a plumber DONE
- Not appropriate conversation DONE
- Pool tarp mishap DONE
- Spiders in the pool skimmer DONE
- Dog assplosion DONE
- Wife's "mishap" in the family room
Remember that I'm a man, and anything beyond 2 weeks ago is going to be skewed from what you may or may not remember. Unless you have concrete facts, I'll just make it up as I go. :)
Accurate? Yes, hard to believe but a lot of what you will be reading here is actual life events for me and my poor anonymous family. I am apparently a magnet for happenstance. Don't expect any "boy, I ate a sausage biscuit today, and I'm all burpy" type entries. I'm talking about dog fecal nightmares, spiders, and other man problems like how to unclog a sewer line, pool tarp near death experiences, or what not to do to get the sex time with misses.
If any of you coming here remember a story I've told, let me know so I can fish it out, or recreate it. Here's what I remember so far:
- Why I'm not a plumber DONE
- Not appropriate conversation DONE
- Pool tarp mishap DONE
- Spiders in the pool skimmer DONE
- Dog assplosion DONE
- Wife's "mishap" in the family room
Remember that I'm a man, and anything beyond 2 weeks ago is going to be skewed from what you may or may not remember. Unless you have concrete facts, I'll just make it up as I go. :)
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