8 Years

Okay, I have much to chat about today, so I would like it if you guys kept quiet and listened throughout the entirety of my post. Save your comments for the end of the post and if there are any, I would be more than happy to answer them in the order in which they were received.

Firstly… happy 8th anniversary to Wifey and myself. We have been married for a whopping 8 years now. In some ways it seems like we just got together yesterday, but in others it seems like there has never been life without each other. The truth is probably somewhere in between. Year 7 has flown by, and I am sure it mainly has to do with Little Man.

These last 2 years have definitely been the most stressful, so let that be a lesson to you kids out there. If you are going to have a kid to save your marriage, you are a stupid stupid person. It will not work, it will only, at best, postpone the difficulties you marriage is experiencing. Wifey and I were fortunate enough that we had good communications skills prior to the arrival of Little Man. I say “fortunate enough” but we worked damn hard to get those skills. Otherwise, the relationship would be in much worse shape than it is right now.

So, in general, huzzah and kudos to us for beating the odds. I am sure some people have lost money on us. There are definitely some folks who did not think we would make it this far. Sadly, those people didn’t let us know what the wager was, or offer us a cut; we could have worked something out.

Secondly… The house deal has fallen through. In many ways it is good, in some ways it is bad. The stars did not line up correctly for us to move at the moment. I feel relieved that the process is over and the outcome has been determined. It would have been nice to move, but it seems like it is just not in the cards this time. It is a good house and we can definitely make the best of it for a couple more years.

Thirdly… Little Man was sick this weekend. He was sick enough that we had to get him on the Orapred again. This medicine makes Little Man into more like Fucking Insane Little Man. Last night at 7:30 pm EST he stripped down to his blue and green socks and decided it was time to eat some more Wendy’s chili. So he was standing on a chair drinking chili out of a plastic toy pitcher that came with his kitchen play set, naked as a jaybird except for his green and blue striped socks. He would drink some chili eat a tomato out of some salsa we made and grin at us all the while chattering at us about monkeys and ducks. Looney, I tell you… Looney. He walked in a circle for 5 minutes in the living room trying to figure out what he wanted to do. Turns out he wanted to jump on Papa (me) and climb over my back to get to the back of the sofa, so he could slide down Papa and get to his train that he was circling beforehand. Since day 2 of the 3 day Orapred cycle, he has constantly been jabbering half intelligible ramblings about cows and tractors. Almost mumbling to him self while twitchily walking in a circle. If you saw a grown up doing this in the park, you would give him a wide berth and wonder where the boot fell off of his head. Luckily, this morning was the last dose of the Orapred.

To Recap:
The US Men’s National Team basically just spanked Mexico 2 – 0 in Columbus on Saturday night
8 years is a surprisingly substantial amount of time
The anniversary did kind of sneak up on us with all the house crap and sick boy and stuff
No house deal is not really so bad, at least it is not up in the air anymore
When one eats a substantial amount of Wendy’s Chili over a short period of time, one’s solid waste looks surprisingly like “unprocessed” Wendy’s chili
Little Man is an insane ball of motion and energy right now
Sweet Mother of God, Little Man is an insane ball of motion and energy right now
Sweet Mother of God and all that is Holy, Little Man is an insane ball of motion and energy right now
Sweet Mother of God and all that is Holy, Lord help us, save us please, Little Man is an insane ball of motion and energy right now

House

So here is the deal. We have no idea what the holy hell we are going to do with the house situation. We just had the roof inspected, and it turns out that there are 3 courses of shingles on our roof. This is against the local fire codes, and we honestly do not have any idea as to how this came to be. We did not have another level of shingles added, so there have been 3 courses since before we moved in. I am really pissed at the home inspector that we used for not catching this problem. This is something that has to be remedied prior to us selling the house. Unfortunately, we do not readily have the disposable cash available to immediately jump up and get the roof replaced.

We have no idea housewise what is to come. We have some decisions that have to be made, and I honestly don’t know what the final one will be. Not sure we are moving after all. No recap… no funny… I am just down in the dumps

Enjoy.

No merge

Okay, this is getting quite annoying. This is the second driver’s side view mirror that has been hit and destroyed in less than 6 months for my car. I try and park as close to the curb as possible, and, in fact, I was only 2 inches away from the curb last night. Either you are deliberately targeting my car/s (Wifey’s driver’s side mirror was hit about 4 weeks ago) or you should not be driving on my street…. ever.

For some reason, I think it has something to do with it being my car. This is not my usual paranoia rearing its ugly head, this thought is due to the fact that nobody else’s cars on the street continue to get their side view mirrors damaged. Just Wifey and me. Now, I know some of you out in the blogosphere think that it may be that I drive a Ford f-350 extended super cabolicious truck and that the side view mirrors actually stick out like a startled elephants, but you would be wrong. I merely drive a VW Jetta with little tiny itty bitty side view mirrors.

Honestly, I am at a loss as what to do next. Last time this happened, it cost over $200 for the repair. I cannot add $200 every 4 months to my budget, so I guess I will have to get this fixed and then stay up each and every night from dusk until dawn for 6 months straight ready to beat the crap out of anyone with a baseball bat at the drop of a hat, or the smash of a mirror. Then they will think twice about damaging my personal property. Did I mention that I would not be showering for those 6 months, and most likely not brushing my teeth, nor combing my hair. I figured that I could be known as the insane guy of the street. Well, if I am not already…

Basically, that is what is on my mind today. I am ticked off that I have to get the sideview repaired yet again.

To recap:
I now merge by praying
I am not good at praying
Therefore, I will not be good at merging
I got a boost in site traffic due to the repeated use of the word “whores”
I am not too sure if all the traffic was desirable
Hopefully we will be moving and this will not be an issue much longer.

Little Man knows why Mr Ed was famous

Turns out that Little Man is actually speaking foreign languages. Over the weekend, we had dinner at Little Man’s caretakers, and they put in Baby Einstein’s Language Nursery. Lo and behold, my little boy was speaking German, French, Russian, Spanish, Hebrew, Japanese, and a couple other languages as well. Sure, there is a very good chance that he did not know what the heck he was saying, but he was definitely mimicking the DVD. I do not think that one of the languages on the DVD was Welsh, but I could be mistaken.

Also, it seems that he refers to horses as “whores.” I guess he feels that any animal that just lets multiple people “mount and ride” is of loose moral and ethical virtue. I try and correct him, and let him know that for one to truly be a whore, one must be monetarily compensated for the mounting and riding actions, but he insists that they are whores, nonetheless. I have tried to teach him the more appropriate terms of “slut” and “easy,” but he is determined that they are 4 hoofed “whores.” He thinks all kinds of horses are truly denizens of the red light districts… draft whores, wild whores, police whores, Clydesdale whores, Arabian whores, Abyssininan whores, Appaloosa whores, Andalusian whores, Quarter whores, all of them whores! And when he sees a horse he will let that horse know what he thinks about it. He will point at the animal with steely eyes and shout at the top of his little lungs, “WHORE!!!!”

To recap:
It may not be Welsh, but it is foreign
A whore is a whore
Of course, of course

Hangnail!

Okay so the “birdy” finger on my right hand has a hangnail issue. About 7 years ago something happened to that fingernail that caused it to do some odd splitting thing just on the outside of the nail. Ever since then, a thin sliver of finger nail grows underneath the left edge of the main finger nail area. About once every 2 months I have to dig out the sliver piece and yank it out of the nail bed. This process hurts like holy hell. I am not saying the yanking of said hang nail is the most painful thing I have ever done, but I think it qualifies as the most painful thing I have to do on a regular basis. My finger will smart for the rest of the day, but the mild smarting I feel at the moment is better than the dull aches that preceded the yanking. Anyway… as I type, I my finger is bleeding a bit, and is frankly annoying as all get out.

The buyer for our house did turn in their request for remedy, and they did request a bunch. There were 9 points that they wanted us to pay attention to, and some of the points were multi-part “issues.” There list though is somewhat suspect. Number 8 of the 9 was to weed one particular area. Ummm…. When it is your house, weed it all you want… ditto for a couple of other things. I would not be averse to weeding the area myself, but their Request for Remedy contract stipulated that all work be done by licensed professionals such that all receipts could be shown on the day of the final walk through. I am simply not willing to have a licensed contractor come in and do weeding for me. There were some other poorly worded requests as well as some things that were just not true. It has made the entire process absolutely un-palatable. It is good, therefore that we have a very level headed realtor who has very kindly talked us down from hunting down the buyer and whacking her real good in the knee with a lead pipe, Tanya Harding style. We are going to entertain some of their concerns, but the other stuff they can do if they want to. So the next phase of negotiations is in process. Stay tuned.

Anyway… not much else is going right now for the good ole SRH household.

To Recap:
Sucks to be on the Gulf Coast right now
I work with a bunch of 12 to 14 year olds
She said, “Coxswain”
My finger has gone from dull ache to tingly pain
I have typed soooo much on this blog that my finger is bleeding…
No, it had nothing to do with pliers
Fix the doorbell your damn self!

Damn you Little Debbie! Damn you to Hell!

Still no word from the buyer about the inspection. They actually have until mid-night tonight to submit a “request for remedy.” After that, as far as we know, the deal moves forward. At that point I will actually inform my parents of our impending move. We figured they should know at some point. I mean really, it is not going to be a big deal. We will have the same phone number and our mail will be forwarded. I mean, what’s the big reason for telling them?

Anyway… lunch today was horribly unsatisfying. To start with, the base of today’s midday repast is a cheap ass frozen thing from Stouffer’s. Now of the frozen types of meals, Stouffer’s seems to have some of the highest quality and good consistency of product, but it is, nonetheless, a cheap ass frozen thing. These meals are never enough sustenance on their own so I have started supplementing it with chips of some form. Today I have decided on the organic Tostitos that are out at the moment. The ingredients for these bad boys is corn meal, corn oil, sea salt and love. They are quite the delectable chip. Well, this morning whilst trying to usher Little Man out of the house, he saw my chips and wanted some of them. He has a limited array of potential foodstuffs. He wants my chips that he can eat… he gets my chips that he can eat. As a substitute I get a measly bag of Doritos from the vending machine. Crappy assed frozen thing and measly bag of Doritos of an unknown vintage constituted my unsatisfying lunch today.

Needless to say, I went down to the snack machine and purchased for myself a dessert since I was still hungry and the main course did not satisfy. I chose a “Double Decker Oatmeal Creme Pie” from the evil bastards that work for Little Debbie Snacks at McKee Foods in Collegedale, Tennessee. Did they really have to make this thing a double decker? Sweet mother of Debbie! The single is unhealthy enough. I might as well just eat a spoonful of lard with a high fructose corn syrup chaser.

For me the oatmeal creme pie is one of my seriously unhealthy little dalliances. My other is the Hostess Lemon Pie. Those things are evil incarnated with sweet white and yellow centers respectively. Mmmmm…. Hostess Lemon Pie…. Anyway… the issue with these 2 particular foodstuffs, is that whilst partaking of their confectionary goodness, it is like eating a sweet slice of heaven on a cloud, but once the last morsel is consumed, the heavenly cloud sits in your gullet like a clod of clay.

Due to my weakness for the delicacy of my childhood, I will be weighed down by unseen forces exerted upon me by the disembodied spirit of the double decker oatmeal creme pie for the rest of my day. Moving has definitely become an issue, and motivation is right out. At least we know where all of this stands now, and by stand, I mean “sit languidly at my desk trying not to sleep.”

To recap:
If we don’t hear something by midnight tonight, we don’t have to repair a darn thing
Frozen lunches are not satisfying… ever
Little Man likes the tortilla
I feel really ill for having eaten the forbidden double decker creme pie
Me so tired
Damn you Little Debbie! Damn you to Hell!!

meh

I have only a little bit before I go and pick up the little man from his care takers. This has been a complete waste of a day. I was never really able to engage into the work waiting for me at my desk. Sure I was able to get some work done, but my heart was really not into it. I do not know where this particular malaise is stemming from. It could be a multitude of things. I have not yet fulfilled my recently acquired mission in life of killing the dreaded hippo. Mark my words, Water Horse, You will die! Die I Tell You! DIE! My allergies are trying to kill me slowly with a death by asphyxiation. The Yeti is still out there being all nemesis-like… mocking me… judging me. We are waiting with baited breath the results of the house inspection that took place yesterday afternoon and lasted an hour too long. Any of those things could have led to my general sense of blah. Well, any and all of those things have probably contributed somewhat to my ultimate feeling of “meh.”

So last night both Wifey and Little Man were starting to feel under the weather. This led to some really un-satisfying sleep for the night by any of the 3 inhabitants of the house. The lack of sleep led to some rather quick and flawed decisions as to what to wear today to work. Those faulty decisions led to me picking a clean shirt that happened to be permanently stained. This led to me wearing a stained shirt all day long. I are professional lookin’. Maybe that is why I could not get into the whole work mode.

To recap:
You will die hippo
Wifey, why didn’t you warn me this morning that the shirt I had on was stained?
If you have not heard of FSMism or "Pastafarianism," you might want to check it out. I think I might be a convert
I am tired, and I am done for the day.
Well, you know you make me wanna
(Shout) Throw my hand up
(Shout) Kick my heels back
(Shout) Throw my head back
(Shout) Come on now
(Shout)Don't forget to say you will
(Shout, Shout) Don't forget to say
(Shout) Yeah yeah yeah yeah, come on
(Say you will) Say it right now, baby
(Say you will) Come on, come on
(Say you will) Say it right now, baby
(Say you will)

House Inspection

So I noticed over the weekend that the Columbus Zoo is devoid of hippos. Do you think that they are afraid of me and my cunning prowess of hippo killing? I have mad hippo-killn’ skilz. The problem with hippo-killin’ skilz is that one could be filled to the gills with the skilz and never realize it due to lack of hippo-killin’ opportunites. I, dear reader, am indeed filled to the gills with the hippo-killin’ skilz. I am a whirling dervish of death to hippokind, but my lack of exposure to the hippo population greatly limits my hippo-killin’ potential. Now, Wifey, feels that this is my own latent inadequacy coupled with laziness that has made the hippo my natural enemy, but I tell you that it is nature’s sick sense of humor to place me in a hippo-free environment. If there were hippos in Central Ohio, you know what we would be having for dinner, Wifey? Hippo Flambé, Babycakes, with a mango chutney and asparagus.

On to something completely different… the house inspection is going on even as I type. This means that someone whom I do not know is currently appraising our ability to be stewards of property. Frankly, I do not like being evaluated on how I live. How I live my life is my own business, right? And the inspection process is all pretty subjective anyway. For example, I am sure that the inspection would not go very well if I had a fresh hippo carcass in the kitchen ready for the cleaning and the butchering. My lot in life is to bring death to the hippos; that should not be a strike against my ability to sell my house at a reasonable price. Sure, there is not a hippo carcass in the kitchen, but a ceramic tile floor that needs to be re-sealed instead, but that is beside the point. The point is that it is difficult to have someone rate your performance as a homeowner or a hippo slayer. I’m just sayin’…

Anyway… The back is feeling better. I slept in a better position last night, and the back is not nearly as achy today. My hips still sound like someone is hanging up the phone on my desk, but the back is not nearly as achy. Thanks for all the well-wishes. Oh wait, there weren’t any. Bastards. The lack of love I feel from you loyal readers is appalling. Here I am slaving over a hot keyboard day in and day out for you. Where is the love, I ask you, “where is the love?”

To recap:
If there are no hippos in Central Ohio, have I fulfilled my mandate from God?
Don’t judge me, house inspector, you weren’t there, man… you don’t know what it was like…. You don’t know, man!
I cry out in pain and agony, and all I get is ridicule… stop looking at me!
Where is the love?

Just so all of you know...

Due to Spammy McSpamson from Spammiesburough, Ky I have changed the setting on my blog for comments. Now you have to do the word verification to get a comment posted.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blog...

Old

So, not much commentable going on in the life of this here blogger. Everything is kind of in limbo for the housing situation. At the moment we have the house inspection scheduled for tomorrow afternoon/evening, and following that we go into another round of contract negotiations. Here is to hoping that there are not any really contentious points that the buyer wants done. Something tells me, that the buyer will want the garage access door repaired, but that is perfectly understandable.

So last night we went to bed early, so I could be nice and rested for the beginning of a new work week. It was a good idea, but, unfortunately my body had other plans. If I did not even think it before, I know it now: I am old. How do I know this, at the tender age of 31? Well, it seems that last night I slept wrong, and I mean “really really wrong” not just plain old “wrong.” Around 3 in the morning, I awoke feeling mildly uncomfortable, and drifted back in and out of sleep for the next hour and a half, focusing primarily on the drifting out of sleep. I must have slept wrong leading up and past the middle of the night wakefulness, because this morning when I woke up my hips were hurting, my lower back ached, and I think I could pinpoint where in my legs my sciatic nerves existed: I could feel the tingles all the way down my legs. Finally, my left heel was sore like I had jumped on a pointy rock repeatedly. All this happens not from playing in some x-treme sport or being involved in a car wreck, but because I “slept wrong.” Now that is “getting old” for you. So, for the remainder of the day I have been trying to stretch out my legs, pop my lower back and get my hips moving. It has not been a pretty site. I honestly think it may be time for a chiropractic “adjustment.” God! I am old.

So, here I am at work, stretching my hamstrings and groin. My bones are popping fairly loudly, and my back is aching enough to cause the odd occasional grunt. The co-workers are a bit worried. Stretching my legs and back has helped me feel better, but it has also helped me look even weirder. That is saying something; the co-worker folk already deem me pretty darn odd. I am still waiting for the loud crack that my back needs to make and the subsequent euphoric “ahhhh” that will accompany the loud noise. That would be great, because then my back would not ache so much. That would be nice.

To recap:
House stuff is still moving on
I am old
I hurt due to the oldness
My co-workers are thinking me even odder than before
That is saying something…
Get a ladder you freak

20 Questions

Since I could not come up with a topic today, I decided to have some people I know ask questions.

1. How long does it take your facial hair to get beardish?

To truly get beardish it takes about 2 full weeks of lack of shaving. To look scruffy, 3 days, to look deranged 1 week. To look homeless, well, it itches too much to get to that point

2.. Are you a side, stomach or back sleeper and do you get the jimmy legs when you sleep?

I am primarily a side sleeper, but I have been known to belly and back it as well. I rarely get the “jimmy legs” when I sleep, but occasionally I will have a dream during that cusp of sleep and kick a bit.

3. What is the first thing you built as a child?

My walls of denial and suppression. Why didn’t you love me Mommy, why!?

4. Why is Jon Stewart so angry now on the Daily Show?

I think this has to do with how he perceives the current presidential administration to be lying to the American people on a daily basis.

5. Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?

Last time I checked she was in Caracas, Venezuala. Trabajamos todos por Venezeuala

6. What would your preferred choice of murder weapon be? Blunt club, pointy dagger, ranged weapon (bow or gun), etc?

Depends of course on if I was the one doing the murdering or the dying, but to answer your question

As the murderer: somebody else’s arm
As the murderee: old age

7. What would your dream job be?

Invulnerable super hero, you? Who doesn't think that Superman has a sweet gig.

8. What would be the worst job you can think of?

Assistant crack whore

9. Is there someone (besides your immediate family/close friends) that you think the world would be a poorer place without?

Why, what are you planning to do? First a question about murder and now who would be bad for humanity to not have. I'm watching you...

10. Is there anything more irksome than a paper cut?

Yes, 2 paper cuts

11. What's your most embarrassing moment, that you can safely share in a blog....

Nice try, I am not giving you ammo to use against me. Well, I am not giving you more ammo to use against me.

12. Did you have to sit on Wifey to get her to marry you or just get her REALLY drunk? Personally, I'm betting you made her promises that you still have yet to keep...there's just no other explanation for it!

Honestly, I get this question a whole bunch. I have no Idea why this wonderful woman decided to marry me. I really think she must have drawn a short straw at one of your meetings and resignedly decided that she would do this for the betterment of humanity. That, and I have some dirt on her.

13. If little man had been a girl, what would you have named her? Is there any special reason why?

Well, duh, it would be “little girl.” I am typically not into gender-typing, but I also am not about lying either, so I would go with that apt description of her.

14. If your best friend were ever to become your jester, what's the first thing you'd have him do?

Well, I think the motley fool get up would be required first of all, but after that, I think a dirty limerick would suffice for beginnings. There once was a man from Nantucket... Do you think that when they named Nantucket they knew that they were about to be the beginning of most dirty limmericks?

15. Is there anything you truly regret having done OR not done?

Not really. What I have done and not done to this point has created who I am. I am pretty happy with who I am.

16. Why are you so caustic?

I’m not the caustic one, you’re the Caustic one, Caustic McCaustic from Causticton.

17. Why, instead of simply saying yes, so people waste time and breath saying "Does a bear shit in the woods?"?

People love a good colloquialism. Dan Rather is the case in point. “It’s hotter than a honey bee burning in the fiery pits of hell,” is much more fun to say than “oh, about 87 with a heat index around 93.”

18. What is this thing in my hand?

It is your destiny, and I have to say, it has probably looked better. Did you type this one- handed?

19. Would sex still be taboo if it sounded like a slidewhistle?

No, not at all, it would be widely accepted and encouraged

20. Why is Darryl Hannah considered an actress?

There are things even I, in all of my wisdom and knowledge cannot even attempt to answer, but I think it is connected to Rosanna Arquette’s fame as well. The 80’s were a simpler time…

To recap:
I have completely run out of ideas.
Feel free to ask questions in the comments, I will answer them, I swear
Bangkok, Oriental setting
And the city don't know what the city is getting
The crème de la crème of the chess world
in aShow with everything but Yul Brynner

I Love You Too, Demon House

Okay, so here is the situation. Wifey went to bed before me. She went upstairs and doing her evening rituals decided to express her love to me through little man’s baby monitor. So, she said in a sweet loving whisper, “I love you.” I was not paying attention to the monitor, so I did not see the lights on the monitor light up when the cracky demonic low breathy voice from no where said menacingly, “I love you.” I almost crapped my pants. I have always had an unmitigated fear of abode possession ever since I should not have caught Amityville Horror as a young impressionable kid when it was on TV in probably 1980. It actually took me a minute to notice movement sounds coming from the monitor. I finally realized that it was not demons from the ninth plane of Hell cooing at me their infernal sweet nothings, but instead my wife’s loving voice being distorted through the evil devil monitor. Just for the record, had she said, “Get out, for God’s Sake Get Out.” We would be living in a motel prior to the closing.

Anyway… Not much else going on other than the potential demonic possession of my current domicile.

To recap:
“I love you,” is a sweet sentiment when being administered by a loving and caring significant other
“I love you,” will scare the sweet ba-jeezus out of you when delivered by demons, and yet, it is oddly flattering and exciting to think that Asmodeus might actually be sweet on me

3 - 2 - 1- Contract! Contract is the reason....

We are now officially in contract. The buyer accepted our counter-offer. I have to say that I am not really sure how I feel about this. It is good because it means that we will be able to purchase the house we have bid on, but part of me is wondering if we are truly “done” with our current residence. In many ways I do not feel finished at the Casa del SRH. I just have this nagging feeling that we were meant to be in that house a bit longer.

We have done a whole hell of a lot to this house since we purchased it 4 years ago. We tiled the kitchen. We made the attic into a walk up closet/office. We put in new hardwood floors in the downstairs. We got the place a new hot-tub. We really made this place our home. I guess in general I am feeling some loss about the old house. It has been a great house for us.

I know that Wifey is more trepidatious about purchasing the other property (Maison d’SRH) because it is more of a fixer-upper. The fixer-upperness of that property is not so disconcerting to me, but Wifey is absolutely correct that Maison d’SRH will indeed need some updating.

Firstly the kitchen needs top be remodeled. At the moment the kitchen cabinets (if one can call them that) need to be replaced. These wooden objects are not deep enough to stack dinner plates in them. That will be an issue to say the least. Luckily the space that the kitchen will occupy is a good space, and there is a great deal that can be worked with in that area, but a kitchen remodel is going to cost a good bit, even if we do the work ourselves. We plan on remodeling this place on our own. The only thing that we are worried about is moving electrical crap around.

Currently the floor in the kitchen is a light wood looking Pergo laminate. It is nice enough material, but I think we are going to go with the Daltile French Quarter Oleans Moss tile, like we currently have in our kitchen. It will be something to tie the 2 residences together: continuity between houses. Plus we love how it looks and it is fairly easy to install. All we need to do in the kitchen is flooring, appliances, and cabinetry/countertops. That’s not so bad…

Secondly, the downstairs hardwood flooring needs to be replaced. It is not thick enough to refinish, and it definitely needs something. Luckily we are acutely knowledgeable about hardwood flooring now.

Thirdly, there are portions of the upstairs that need to be cosmetically updated. The ceilings of the upstairs rooms have a glued on acoustic tile. There will need to be some kind of cosmetic changes to that. The master bed room needs to have the horrid wall-paper taken down. Roses everywhere I look.

Fourthly, the finished portions of the basement need to be carefully looked at and re-planned. It is an odd set of spaces to say the least. That and the electrical down there needs to be re-wired as well. There are just plain odd places for light switches and outlets. It is all grounded, and it all works perfectly, but it is just in weird places.

Fifthly, the garage is looking a bit bad. It looks like previous owners did not have the best depth perception. The rear wall of the place is off the footer in the center of that wall. It is a nice and even arc though.

I am looking forward to making the new place my home, but I am also a bit sad that this place that we have made into our nest will no longer be home.

To recap:
The counter offer was accepted
I will greatly miss our current house
The possibilities for the new place are really endless
Sorry for the “lack of funny”

Yellow Jackets

How was my weekend?

Well, thanks for asking. Let me tell you… but first let me give you just a smidgen of backstory.

A little more than 2 years ago, whilst we were in the hospital for the birth of little man, some kids attempted to break into our garage. I say attempted because all they ended up doing was fucking up the doorjamb, and I said kids because an adult would have been able to pop the door tout suite. Since then we have not really used the garage access door because it is difficult to open and close and there is a big opening that we drove our car through with which we can enter and exit.

Enough backstory… This weekend we were to have an open house on Sunday afternoon. There are some things that we wanted to get accomplished prior to actually having tons of people running amok through our house, and on top of the open house, we had a showing scheduled from 10 to 11 on Sunday morning as well. So Saturday was going to be all about getting the house ready, at least that is what we thought. Friday we got calls from our realty company and 3 showings were set up for the day on Saturday. There goes Saturday’s daytime ability to get the little things done around the house to make it show better. Simple little things like taking the growing things out of the garage’s gutters.

Anyway… fast forward to Saturday evening. We are attempting to get little man asleep. He is falling asleep just wonderfully and his eyes are closed…. He is drifting… drifting… drifting… THUNDER AND LIGHTNING. He’s awake now, but still tired. The sound and light show seem to be more or less not bothering him after about 10 minutes. So, again he started drifting off again…. drifting… drifting, and there he was, our little angle asleep. It was a light sleep until the power went out and freaked his shit out. Came back on… went off… came back on… went off… came back on, and then went off. This multiple power outage seemed to awake the little one out of his light slumber and freak his shit out even more.

Here begins out night of playing with the little one instead of cleaning the house. The power was out until 12:30 that night, and the little one was up until around 10:30. Needless to say, the cleaning did not happen Saturday evening as well.

Sunday morning arrives. We are cleaning like mad folk. Little man is intent on playing like a made man as well. These 2 cross purposes do not mix well. We know that we have to get out of the house by 9:50 for the showing that has been scheduled at 10. One of the tasks that needs to be taken care of prior to showing a house is the removal of trash. A house that smells like rotten vegetables tends not to show well.

So, I take the trash out to the trash can out back. On my way back in, I notice that the door jamb on the garage access door is a bit more askew than normal. (remember the backstory, it comes in to play from here on) As I walk past the rumpled door jamb, I quickly shove the thing back into place. Within second s of touching the door jamb, I get a searing stab of pain in my left elbow-ish area. I look down, and to my astonishment, there is a yellow jacket there (not this yellow jacket, or this yellow jacket, or even this yellow jacket, but this yellow jacket) stinging the holy hell out of my arm. I flick the bastard off my arm and start heading for the house. I get on the back porch and feel the fire of a yellow jacket sting on my right thumb near the palm of my hand. I shake the bastard off my hand and have to do some evasive maneuvers to keep from getting a third sting, and slipped on the rain slicked deck. One of my left quads erupted into pain, as I slipped. Pretty sure that is a pulled muscle. It will hurt more later. I head into the house trying not to curse like a sailor.

Trying not to curse like a sailor when in great deals of pain tends to come out in oddly pain induced grunts and yelling, lots of pursed lips and whistling. One should not curse like a sailor in the house of a parroting 2 year old. “Squawk, shit fuck damn, squawk!”

So whilst I am dancing around my dance of pain, the phone rings and Wifey’s mom is on the phone. Turns out that one of her cats died overnight. She was not willing to remove the body of the cat and needed us to come over and help with the cat’s ultimate destination. Of course we will help. It is our job to help. It is Sunday morning at around 9:30 at this point. There is not a single darn vet open at the moment. Luckily we were able to find a vet tech who was watering and walking the dogs at a local vet and ask them what we should do to take care of Henry’s (the cat’s) remains. Luckily, the vet was there as well, and $50 later that issue was taken care of. It is 10:05, someone is most likely in our house. My stings still hurt, but not with the white hot heat of a thousand suns, but my leg is starting to ache more.

Now we start heading to an indoor playground for little man… for he is bored with the dead animal disposal process. On our way to a local mall we get a call from the realty office asking if we would mind having a showing at 12:15 to 1:15. We wonder why the person cannot wait a bit and go through the open house, but we are looking to sell the place, so we say, “Sure why not.”

The showings go well, the open house goes well, but we were not able to do any of the minor cleaning that we needed to do. More importantly, I was not able to try and take care of the yellow jacket issue prior to having tons of litigious strangers walking in my back yard. FYI No one was stung.

That evening, while the little one was getting his bath, I went out with my handy can of Yellow Jacket death and a broom. They seemed like a good pairing of tools at the time. I poked at the doorjamb with the broom, holding the spray can of insect killing (+4 against yellow jackets and hornets for the gamers out there) and nothing happened. I poked harder, still nothing. I opened the garage door expecting a devil swarm to encompass me, but still nothing. There were no more yellow jackets.

It seems that the door jamb looked in worse shape than it had the day before, significantly worse. It seems that someone during the power outage, or right after the power outage, had attempted to re-break into the garage. I imagine that, again, it was kids because they did not make it in.

Let me reconstruct a timeline for everyone. We had not used the door in 2+ years. Saturday night there was another attempt at getting into the garage to an already weakened entry point. Sunday morning I was stung by a lone yellow jacket. Here’s where my supposition comes in. I think that during the past 2 years some yellow jackets found that door jamb to be a great place for a home. Then, under the cover of darkness, some folk attempted to gain entry into our garage through a door we have not used in 2 years where yellow jackets have taken up residence. The people did not get into the garage due to the stingy and flying insects that issued forth from the disturbed entry point. The colony started the move, since the doorjamb was no longer a safe neighborhood. I was stung by one of the few remaining yellow jackets. It brings a tear to my eye thinking that somebody trying to break into my garage got the everliving crap stung out of them. Makes the 2 stings I endured and the pulled thigh muscle somehow worth it.

So, how was your weekend?

To recap:

Our garage is mainly meant for storage
We are showing the house a hell of a lot
Yellow Jackets are the spawn of the devil.
God rest ye, Henry
At least it was not hornets
Some kid is currently still in pain from multiple yellow jacket stings… tee hee
I had the luxury of daylight to see what was causing me pain
We just got an offer on the place, but it low, and we like money… you do the math

Questions, Questions, Questions

I am having a difficult day coming up with blogable crap, so I have enlisted the help of Wifey to help with the filler…

So without further ado, questionnaire from Wifey:

Here are questions that I’ve always wanted to know about you, but I’ve been too lazy in the ten years we’ve been together to ask:

1. Did you like your first French kiss? (I didn’t by the way. The guy had just drunk a Pepsi. It was quite disgusting.)

My first French kiss occurred when I was in 8th grade. It was fine, but as far as liking or dis-liking, that is difficult to say. I have continued kissing so I guess it was not a complete turn off

2. Is your love of the color green tied to a love of nature and its verdant abundance or something else?

I have pretty much always been driven towards the color green. I think it has to do with my coloring and how most shades and hues of green clothing seem to work for me. All in all most greens make me look good.


3. What is the genesis of your “economy of motion” life credo?

“Economy of motion” is a concept that I came up with in College. It boils down to getting the desired outcome of an event with as little output as possible. I would have to say that the genesis of this life credo has to do with justifying my laziness in comparison to my parent’s inherent laziness. I try not to have my laziness interfere with my abilities to accomplish tasks. But, let’s be clear, if it takes too much effort to do that, it would not truly be an “Economy of Motion.”


4. Why do you prefer tall women? Follow up question: Why did you marry a short one?

Well, here is the “economy of motion” principle in action. I do not have to bend over to kiss a taller woman, yet to kiss a shorter woman I do. Same action, more energy expended. For the follow up, and it is a sappy, sappy answer, there is no one better than Wifey.


5. Why aren’t you nicer to people at church?

I find most of them to be tiresome. It is difficult for me to find a commonality with them, and, frankly, to me most of them are boring. It is difficult to talk about how difficult it is managing 2 people to someone that works part time at a Starbucks.

More likely though is that I also have a difficult time opening up to people at church due to the fact that I got burned so bad by my last church. It is easier for me to be aloof and un-engageable.


6. What do you think is the nerdiest thing about yourself? The coolest? (who am I kidding, just answer the first question)

Hmmmm…. Nerdiest. But there is so much to choose from. I would ave to say at the moment, that the nerdiest thing I have going on right now is my collection of Wizkids Pirates game pieces on my cubical shelves at the moment. Some friends here at work get together and play the pirates game over lunch during the week. Yep, that is pretty nerdy.

As for the coolest thing, honestly, I think it has to do with having wholeheartedly embraced my nerdom. That and lets be clear, Wifey is clearly the coolest thing about me.

7. What’s your favorite memory with your brother?

We were out gallivanting in the woods behind our house one time. I think we were trying to see where an owl flew off to when my cat Boots (hey, stop laughing, I named him when I was probably 8 and we had a similar cat at the time with the same markings named Sox) decided that he was going to mark my brother. The dialog went something like this.

“Hey, brother.”
“SHHHH, be quiet we don’t want the owl to fly away again”
“Brother!”
“Be quiet.”
“But, Boots is…”
“Will you be quiet?”
“But Boots is going to”
“SHHH!”
“Nevermind, he’s done marking you.”
“What?!?”
“Yup, the cat just peed on your leg”

I laugh to this day thinking about this memory.


8. Will being late to an event actually kill you or do you just act like it?

I have been late to many events, and have not died as of yet.


9. Do you consider yourself “handy”?

As opposed to “Footy?” Yes. I am not terribly handy, but I am handy enough around the house to survive. I can do some maintenancy things in the house, and I know who to take my car to for repairs, but that is about as “handy” as I get.


10. How can we make it so that we are independently wealthy and can ditch our jobs? (don’t mention anything illegal here – we can talk about that later)

I keep waiting for you to write that best-selling novel, so I no longer have to work. I am banking on you, Babe.

To recap:
I could not come up with a topic and Wifey had to save me.
Economy of Motion is a good credo. Well, at least, there are worse credos out there
Okay, Okay, I am lazy
Organized religion tends to suck, due to the lax requirements of belonging to a religion
Shiver me timbers!!!! Avast ye scallywags! Arrr!!!
Boots technically owned my brother from that point on
So, I don’t like being late, what of it?
So, I am not the handiest person to have around, what of it?
Get writing woman!

3rd time is a charm

Time got away from me today. There I was minding my own business, trying to ignore the work that I was supposed to do when I turned around and it was almost 4 o’clock. Well, poop! I am supposed to get a blog done prior to getting out of the building, and I have not started anything yet. My blogging public expects… nay, demands that I update every day that I am at work So here it goes, my pathetic attempt at blogging for the day. I apologize for the tardiness and lack of quality prose provided to you today for free.

Wifey and I have found that repeating someone’s name 3 times with growing volume and urgency does not get that person to do our bidding. Oh that it would, I would try and employ this tactic at work.

“Hey, Bossman, I need a raise. Bossman. Bossman! BOSSMAN!!!”

But really we want to be able to curb the little one’s behavior, and if that tactic will not work for a bald 50-something man, it sure as Hell is not going to work on a 2 year old. Little man has been testing boundaries recently, and one of those boundaries is his ability to ignore us. He needs some boundaries and some rules, and he is not really excited about the prospect of us setting those things up. So far we need to really figure out what it is that we find acceptable and unacceptable as well as what the consequences of unacceptable behavior. Nothing major... No big deal. We just need to establish a system of morays and values for him to adhere to for the rest of his life. You know, a code of ethics and behavior. Nothing major. Good God! This parenting thing is daunting.

Anyway… aside from the future of our child as we know him, not much going on.


To recap:
Time seems to move in a forward direction, except if you are a 4th dimensional being or greater
Repeating a name 3 times with greater volume and urgency does not cause someone to do what we want
My bossman has very little hair, but has a beard… discuss
Blogging takes time, and I ain’t got no more
I need to pick up little man
See you suckas later

Allergies

Allergies suck.

This time I am not blogging about the little one’s vast and disturbing allergies. This time I am talking about my own craptastic allergies. For some reason the hot humid weather coupled with the cooler dryer air of indoor air conditioning causes my sinuses great calamity. This is the absolute worst time of the year for me. Late summer has always caused me great heart ache and pain, not to mention the vast amounts of lost hemoglobin.

Case in point: I have just spent waaaay too much time today trying to get my stupid nose to stop bleeding whilst in the very bathroom I was lamenting about in yesterday’s post. Did I mention that sometimes that bathroom smells like ass? So there I was in the bathroom. I was washing my hands because I am a sanitary fellow. Not the “just put your hands in the water so you look sanitary” washing that most guys do, but does absolutely nothing except get germs wet, but the full on “30 seconds of intense scrubbing with soap” washing that actually does some cleaning. All of the sudden the water had a red drop in it as well as the soapy bubbles. Oh, crapo! So after 5 minutes of having a paper towel crammed up my nose my boss walks in. He mentions how bad his day is going prior to noticing the paper towel gracefully hanging out of my nose. He notices the towel and says, “Well, my day could be worse.”

Thanks bossman, you da best. Sometimes I think he keeps me around for the comic relief aspect and not just for my mad cartographic skilz. Oh yeah, I gots the skilz!

Stupid allergies

To recap:
Allergies + Me = bad
Little man does not like to eat at the table… that’s just way too mainstream for him
Why is “phonics” spelled so non-phonetically?
I have work to do that I am ignoring
Stupid work
Stupid Allergies
Stupid work and stupid allergies

Open Letter...

An open letter to the sick, lazy, fuck who wipes his nasty-ass nose nuggets on the bathroom stall walls:

Dear Sir,

I realize the discomfort that the dried mucous membrane in one’s nostrils can cause, for I too have had dried snot in my nasal passages. In fact, it is highly probable that I do produce more “boogers” than the average human of my age. Sometimes the lodged nasal mucous requires the finger digging method of removal. I am human, I understand this necessity. The prodigious amounts of smeared snot on the walls indicate that this method of removal seems to be your “method of choice,” and potentially, your only method. Whatever, you are in a men’s room, there are infinitely more disgusting this that occur within those confines, pick away! I, sir, however, have found it ways to get rid of my nasal discharge in a more sanitary and polite manner than smearing the rhinal residue on the cement block wall on the bathroom stall.

The stalls of our upstairs bathroom are too narrow for those of us who are not of a minor size maneuver without great care. While I do not consider myself to be of gargantuan proportions, I am larger than the average male in our office, and thusly find the bathroom stalls to be a bit lacking in space. This lack of space sometimes causes wall brushing with my shoulders, and every male that I have spoken to within the office wish that we did not have to worry about brushing up against your nose bullets.

For the love of God and all that is holy! You are sitting next to the perfect fucking substitute for tissues and on top of a god-damned fucking waste receptacle! How fucking lazy are you?!?! For Christ’s sake, you cranially challenged knuckle-dragger, wipe you God-Damned snotty fingers off with some toilet paper and flush that disgusting nasal discharge down the damn toilet with your shit! Sweet mother of Jesus, where in the Hell did you grow up where you felt that wiping snot on the walls was okay? What kind of adult are you, you disgusting bastard?!?! Walls are meant for paint, not your snot. Well, sometimes a tasteful wall paper is okay, but definitely not your nasal residue. How fucking disgustingly lazy are you?!!? You make me sick to my stomach, and I have a pretty good tolerance for bad habits.

About once every 3 months, the custodial staff has to scrape off the walls in that stall, and within a week they are covered again with your snot. Good Lord! Why do you think it is okay for the other people in your office to have to contend on a daily basis with your disgusting habit?

Sincerely,

SRH


To Recap:
Still have not sold the house
Little man is talking more, admit is de-Welshifying
Use the damn toilet paper and flush that stuff, you sick freak!

Dental Visits

I abhor going to the dentist. At least the dentist I go to now tries to make the experience as enjoyable as possible. They have TV’s in each exam room, usually I am able to change the channel to something that won’t melt my brain. Today, however, I got to be subjected to Regis and Kelly Live whilst having my teeth scraped. Lucky me. So on the show they were talking about the soon to be mega hit movie The Dukes of Hazzard.

(Side note: how does someone from the South screw up a Southern accent? Jessica Simpson, you are from Texas, Sweet Mother of God and All that’s Holy!!!! Can’t you fake a Kentucky Accent that doesn’t sound like a New Zealander acting like a drunk auctioneer from Georgia? Just talk in your Texas accent, it is not that difficult)

Again, lucky me. I had to sit through watching Kelly Rippa wax eloquent about the amazing performance of Johnny Knoxville as one of "them Duke Boys.” So, I had someone shoving my mouth open, picking at my teeth with a metal spike, watching Kelly Rippa try to make it sound like Johnny Knoxville is an actor. Kill me, Kill me now.

(Side note 2: Why does Hollywood feel the need to take cancelled TV shows and make them into movies? I cannot wait for A-Team, or MacGyver, or Sheriff Lobo. But come on, they could not do a Sheriff Lobo movie until the BJ and the Bear movie came out, and we all know that BJ and the Bear was a cheap knock-off of Every Which way but Loose, so it will never be made due to copyright laws...)

Regis was thankfully not on the show this morning. That supercharged octogenarian would have pushed me over the limit. The homicidal rampage limit. Oddly enough, I think Grant Hill of basket ball fame was substitute hosting for the aged sprite. Get it? Grant Hill… Sprite? He was a Sprite spokesperson during the height of his popularity. Get it? Grant Hill…. Height? See, Grant is tall….

Anyway… Clean bill of health from the dentist in question. They, of course feel that I should floss more often, and I, of course, feel that they should back the hell off and get off my back. Yes, this is the dentist that I previously mentioned was a Needy, Needy Black Hole of Need. 30 minutes of getting my teeth preened and I do not have to deal with them for another 6 months. I am sure they will want me to be flossing more then as well. Honestly, I think I could floss 20 hours a day and they would not feel it was enough. I could come in with floss hanging out of my mouth, and they would mention that I need to floss more. I could replace meals with flossing, and they would mention the need to floss more. Hey, all you dentists out there… how much flossing do you want from us? We are only human!!!!

Oh well… That is all I have today

To recap:
Going to the dentist used to be bad because of the nasty gooey trays of fluoride crap they made you keep in your mouth for 5 minutes
That fluoride came in different “flavors” that were in reality just different colors
Going to the dentist still sucks, but for less gooey reasons
The Dukes of Hazzard should have been laid to rest a long long time ago
One has to be a really bad actress to be from the South and screw up a Southern accent.
Maybe there should be an Automan movie? But not before Tron 2.0
Grant, I still like the Sprite in you
Look, Ma no cavities!

Mono

I should not feel good about taking advantage of a very sick woman who is currently in a near constant state of malady and transitional upheaval… and yet... Hey, it's survival of the fittest out there. Dog eat Dog and such. Hey, I don't make the rules… Don’t shoot the messenger!

Perhaps I should explain: The seller of the house happens to have, within the last month, graduated from college, gotten married, moved in with hubby, and contracted a raging case of mono. She had no fight left within her, and thought that getting rid of the house was worth 9k less than asking price. As I said, I should not be gleeful about this, but oddly enough there is still glee.

And let's be clear, it's not like she's dying. She's got mono. Terrible to be sure, but not fatal., well… except for that whole ruptured spleen part. Again, let’s be clear, if we knew that she were dying, we would have offered less. I just hope she has enough energy to sign all the paperwork if we get to the closing. FYI: I am bringing my own beverage to the closing. The way I see it, the stars lined up, the fates were on my side, and Wifey’s karma is good (Thank God for Wifey’s karma) - we got the house for 9k less than asking price.

Luckily, we have all the major obstacles over and done with. It is still just the little details that are keeping things from being done. Minor details like structural integrity, etc… The home inspection should take care of that stuff. Oh, and we still need to sell our current domicile. Yes, it has only been on the market for 1 day now, but it has not sold yet. Come on! What is taking so long!

I will end with 5 questions a la the early version of the Daily Show with Craig I’ve-gone-nowhere-since-screwing-over-Laura-Kightlinger-and-the-Daily-Show Kilborn.

1. What color do you hate? I don't mean easily hate like cat-puke yellow. I mean, just a color that gets in your craw kind of hate?

This one

2. Why are people so stupid?

Mainly it is complacency mixed with genetics. Genetics loads the gun and lack of predators is the trigger man

3. What's the best thing you've ever done?

Got married to Wifey

4. One regret?

No, I do not regret my answer to 1. I really hate that color

5. No really, why are people so stupid?

Okay, it really has to do with lack of herd culling


To recap:
Did I mention Glee?
Mononucleosis is an infection caused by the Epstein-Barr virus. Signs of mono include fever, sore throat, headaches, white patches on the back of your throat, swollen glands in your neck, feeling tired, not feeling hungry, and selling a house at a ridiculously low price
Jon Stewart has made the Daily Show so much better
Wifey has good karma
Me, not so much
Yeeee-uck