Captain Crankypants Strikes Again

Nothing Says "Merry Christmas" Like a Little Wizardry

2007-11-20T12:29:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure exactly what I did to get on this mailing list. Needless to say, everyone on my shopping list will be getting a Lord of the Rings collectors knife. At $125, it's a steal!

Seriously, though, what on earth did I buy to get on this list?

Happy Halloween

2007-10-30T18:54:00.001-05:00

Learning your limits the icy-fresh way

2007-10-30T17:37:00.000-05:00

I have learned my limit. It is 54 degrees. Because I'm from Maine, and because oil is expensive, I like to see how long I can make it without turning on the heat in the house. My goal was to make it to November, and if it weren't for a recent cold snap, I would have made it.

When I got home yesterday, I noticed that the heat downstairs was a mere 54 degrees. I waved the white flag and bumped up the thermostat. It is now set at a balmy 58 degrees.

Photo Friday: Medicine Cabinet

2007-10-14T16:55:00.000-05:00

This week's assignment made me realize that I'm one tick short of being a big weirdo. Time to clean out the medicine cabinet. I present to you the itemized contents of our medicine cabinet. To be fair to Brooke, everything in here is mine, so I guess I get to keep the weirdo award all to myself.

Old contact prescription. Usually I end up getting a stronger prescription every time I go to the eye doctors. But, in the unlikely event that my eyes improve, I'll have fresh contacts.
Afrin. Is it really as addictive as they say? The bottle warned me not to use it more than three days in a row. What exactly happens on the fourth day?
Henna hair dye. It makes me smell like I've rolled around in the woods. Unfortunately, it doesn't really color my hair. So, to summarize: stinky, no color.
Eyeglass cleaner and wipes. I have no idea where the giant box of eyeglass tissue came from.
Last October I got a tick bite on my back. Brooke pulled out the tick, but couldn't get the whole thing. We decided to save the tick in a jar of alcohol. You know, in case my back fell off and the doctor needed to see the cause. I would say that it's probably safe to dispose of this jar, but that would involve touching it, which no one wants to do.
Red food coloring. When our toilet was leaking, I put red food coloring in the tank to find out where the leak was. The food coloring made its way into the bowl, so I replaced the flapper. Good times.
Wrenches from fixing the toilet.

No thanks, I filled up on carrots

2007-10-11T15:55:00.001-05:00

It appears that I should not quit my day job to become a farmer. While i did have a bounty of lettuce, my carrots did not fare as well. Apparently there is a downside of planting carrots way too late, and trying to grow them from seed. I present to you my carrot harvest:

Baby carrots seem to be really popular. Maybe these will catch on!

The Gayest LCD Monitor Of All

2007-10-10T17:41:00.000-05:00

So. I was visiting one of my vendors' websites, and came across this photo on the front page. Is it Gay Pride already?

Pick your own!

2007-10-03T14:44:00.000-05:00

We went apple picking this weekend. There's a fairly short window for really good apple picking in Maine, and this past weekend was about peak time for picking. I was surprised by the advertisement for crabmeat rolls, though. It just didn't seem to fit with the whole Orchard theme. Was I to believe people were picking their own crabmeat rolls off a crabmeat tree?

And proof that the apple didn't fall far from the tree...

Photo Friday: Buttons

2007-09-28T14:50:00.000-05:00

Oh, I know. You thought I'd forgotten about Photo Friday. Well, you're wrong, sucker!

This week's theme was buttons. I decided to share with you my swanky shirt, complete with super swanky buttons. If this is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

I Smell Like Drywall Screws

2007-09-28T14:33:00.000-05:00

When your wall isn't dry, just add drywall! Thanks to our recent septic invasion, some drywall in our finished basement had to be fixed.

Step one: Take out the wet drywall. Thanks to the new hole in the wall, our cats had to be sequestered upstairs. This is because I could just see our cats trying to explore the wall. I did not like the thought of them getting caught in the wall (I knew it would be Shelly. One time she managed to wedge herself in the box spring of a mattress. This time, it would be something to the effect of "Shelly, knock 3 times so momma knows where you are!") The cats did not appear to mind the lack of access to the downstairs. However, I was not excited about having to move their litterboxes upstairs into our bathroom. This increased my motivation to get the wall fixed.

Step two: Make the hole even bigger! I was extra cautious and shut off the power to the area. I knew I'd have to be wrangling around an open outlet box. Plus, I wasn't sure exactly where the wires were in the wall.

Step 3: Fill the hole with more drywall. Yes, the drywall is green. I opted for Greenboard. I don't think it's any more environmentally friendly than regular drywall, but it is marketed as moisture-resistant. I hope to not have any more septic dysfunction, but I figured for the extra 3 bucks, I'd go with the green stuff. Despite the fun appearance of having a chalkboard on the bottom of the wall, I will follow up with taping, mudding, primer, and a coat of paint.

As you can see, a good time was had by all.

Poised to Flush

2007-09-27T11:31:00.000-05:00

I know you've all been waiting with bated breath (what the hell is that, anyway? maybe I should substitute the phrase "bait breath") for word of our septic status.

First, let me say that it's not good when a plumber rattles off a list of things that are wrong with your septic system. At the same time, when you've cleaned up septic backflow in your basement, you just want things to get fixed. The plumber was here two days in a row, and at one point there were two plumbers. Basically, whoever hooked up our septic system took a number of sloppy shortcuts, which had to be redone in a more standard, code-meeting fashion. We also ended up with a rather unattractive service box sticking out of our lawn. I am now accepting nominations for ideas on how to hide the box.

The dogs do not seem concerned about how much this is going to cost.

Speaking in Code

2007-09-25T08:22:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I entered the vortex known as small town municipal government.
As I mentioned in my previous post, we are in the midst of septic malaise. Here are some phrases that have been muttered recently, in regards to our septic system:
"I'm sorry Ray did a half-ass job on your tank"
"You need to have your tank pumped immediately."
"That's not supposed to be there"
"The plumber shouldn't have told you to do that. That's a fire hazard."

You can see how it's going so far. I won't bore you with the smelly details, but I will say that I provided the new plumber with a two-page timeline of our septic troubles of the past few days.

One of my tasks is to obtain the septic design for our house. The Septic Pumping guy said that I could obtain the paperwork from our town hall. It would have had to be approved before installation, and they have to keep a copy.

So I went to our local town hall yesterday. Here's how it went down:
I go to the counter, and tell them I need a copy of the septic design for our house. "Oh, you'll have to talk to Dottie," the woman at the counter says, and points down a hallway. I could only assume that's where Dottie's office was. So I go over to Dottie's office and explain my situation. She has one of those throat microphone things (I don't know what they're called, but when I googled "throat microphone" I got some weird hits) that she has to hold to her throat every time she talked. It wasn't too hard to understand, but I really had to pay attention. Anyway, she went off into an adjoining room and started digging through paperwork. "I don't have anything," she said in the mechanical voice. "Let's go to the code office."

Let me say that it would be hard to imagine more code violations than I saw in the Code Enforcement office. Apparently the enforcement happens outside the walls. There was one spot where there clearly used to be a wall, and whoever took the wall down neglected to fill in the floor where the wall used to be. The electrical wire for the light switch was just stapled to the wall. It wasn't in the wall, or even in any sort of conduit. Exposed wiring abounded.

Anyway, Dottie had managed to find our lot map number, which unfortunately was of no use to the woman working in the code office. Of course when I say "office," I use that term loosely. It was more like a hallway and a former closet that had two desks in it. She couldn't find anything in the computer, and the filing "system" consisted of a giant pile of paperwork on the floor. Some of the paperwork was from 1983. Some was from 2005. This was not looking good. The woman told Dottie to look with "the yellow papers," because some of the septic plans were filed with them. Sounds like a really top-notch system they've got going on. What I gleaned from the chaos was that the previous code enforcement officer (who is shared between about 5 towns, since we're in a small town) wasn't exactly dilligent about filing. Or anything. And of course our plans would have been filed during his tenure. Anyway, Dottie and I went back to here office, where she proceeded to look again, and of course nothing turned up. We went BACK to the code office, where I got the number of the state wastewater management office. If you recall my last interaction with a state office, you'll know I was not optimistic.

Somewhere in all of this, Dottie was able to find some paperwork that was submitted for our plumbing application. This wasn't what I needed, but she thought that the septic design might have been done around the same time, and maybe that would help the state office find it. She was nice enough to make me a copy. While she was doing that, a woman who was apparently in charge of answering phones got a call. She had on what I'd call Giant Old Lady Glasses, and one of the lenses was covered with a patch. I am not trying to make fun of anyone's physical disability, temporary or otherwise, but dear lord this woman seemed to make up for her visual impairment by yelling. So she yells over to Dottie (who is about 5 feet away at the copier, and clearly trying to help me) "you have a phone call! Do you want to take it right know!!!!" (I know this is a question, but she really was yelling, and I thought that the exclamation points would be more appropriate to convey the voice modulation problems). So Dottie has to yell back (as best she can with her throat microphone) that she was helping me, and to just transfer the call to her office. Dottie gave me the paperwork (it was a copy of a carbon copy, so let's just say there wasn't much legible information) and sent me on my way. I know that she was doing all she could to help, but I was so very frustrated by the fact that something fairly simple (getting a copy of paperwork) would take an hour, and I still wouldn't have what I needed.

I got to work and called the state office. No one answered, and I left a message. Ditto for later in the afternoon. I called back this morning, and no answer. What is going on at the Wastewater Office? Does anybody actually work there? Do they not care about the fact that we're on a strict "if it's yellow, let it mellow" flush policy right now?

It's going to get worse before it gets better

2007-09-20T07:49:00.000-05:00

If only Blogger had Smell-O-Vision, you would be in for one wild ride.

However, they do not, and I get to experience the joys of septic failure myself. I won't go into great detail at the moment, but let's just say our toilet is out in the backyard right now, and I spent a lot of quality time with the wet vac last night. Oh, and I'm home waiting for the plumber/septic guy to show up. Yeah, Smell-O-Vision would have been too much.

I'm trying to remind myself that this could have been much, much worse. Unfortunately the stench that is emanating from the downstairs is blocking out the optimistic receptors in my brain, and I am left to curse whoever installed our septic system and our piece of crap (ha ha!) pump. Oh, the tales I will be able to tell!

Grout-tastic

2007-09-19T15:33:00.000-05:00

You know that your night has been well spent when you end up with grout all over your knees.

I present to you the before and after pictures from my kitchen tile repair. I did not photograph the barrier I created with cardboard to keep the cats and dogs off the tile while it cured, but I assure you it was spectacular.

Before:
And after:

Now that I've done this, I'm going to be like a grout-crazed crackhead, running around the house fixing grout. Good times.

It's like syncronized swimming in the sky

2007-09-17T10:47:00.000-05:00

In prinicpal, I am fully aware that government-sponsored airshows are a waste of money, resources, and are a shameless recruiting tool. However, I must admit that they're also pretty cool. If you can suspend the negative feelings for a bit, it's easy to be impressed by the skill and precision required to fly a plane 18 inches from another plane. Oh, and while upside down at 700 miles an hour. I'm not sure how this benefits society, but it was a swell sight nonetheless.

It also helped to have a kickass vantage point...
For those of you with decent internet connections, I also have some video. I will note that my undisclosed location was a bit windy, and that I was using a digital camera, so please pardon the shakes and periodic out-of-focus moments. I prefer to think that those just add to the video. Or something like that.

Photo Friday: Light

2007-09-14T18:16:00.000-05:00

This week's theme is light. Taking a picture at night is always challenging, and this one didn't come out exactly as I'd anticipated. However, it is pleasantly creepy.

Smelt Shack Scramble: The Movie

2007-09-10T08:23:00.000-05:00

Okay, so it's more like a little video clip, but still, you can't go wrong with a shack on wheels.
If you missed my previous post, you can learn more about the smelt shack race here.

And now for the feature presentation:

My Saturday, by Sarah

2007-09-09T14:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I did the following things:

Stirred the doggie septic system. This is about as pleasant as it sounds. Our system is experiencing a slight slowdown, which necessitates a daily stirring and watering.
Cleaned up all the dog crap in the yard. Since the doggie septic system is still on the mend, I can't add any "new" deposits, so I have to go back to picking up crap in a pail.
Cleaned the litter boxes. Always a good time.
Stirred up the compost in the compost pile and added some water.
Shopped for laminate flooring.
Watched a smelt shack race.

I took pictures of one of the above activities. Lucky for you, this was one of the events that did not involve crap or stirring. Or stirring crap.

You see, every year our town has a little festival, with activities like a skillet toss contest and a smelt shack race. I was disappointed to miss the skillet toss (I was going to enter this year), but we did make it for the smelt shack race. The smelt shacks (for those of you urban dwellers or those not in Maine, when the ice freezes over on a lake or river, the smelt shacks appear. People setup colonies of shacks, and spent all day ice fishing).

For your reference, here is a photo of an ice fishing "neighborhood" on a local river:
Here's what happens when you put a couple of these babies on wheels:

Above you can see the two shacks at the starting line. The shacks have been modified with wheels. I think in the past the teams actually had to carry the shacks, and I heard that people would get injured. Hence the ambulance nearby...

Anyway, the "rules" (and I use that term very loosely) seemed to be: One person has to be in the shack at all times. The team had to run the shack up the road and pickup a bucket of wood. Then they came to the "break station" (a bucket of water) and one team member would have to chuck what appeared to be about 16 ounces of water while other shifted places.
It was all very interesting.

Check back in a couple days...I'll upload the video from work (faster connection) for your enjoyment and/or bewilderment.

I Can't Drive...37

2007-09-05T18:26:00.000-05:00

No, I am not a geriatric Sammy Hagar. Rather, I have a special request for those of you who drive an vehicle with an automatic transmission.

Don't drive 37 miles per hour. It makes me crazy. You see, 37 mph is the never-never land between 3rd and 4th gear, and I get very angry when following someone at this speed. If I get stuck behind you, I start off all optimistic and put it in 4th gear. Now we're cruising! But wait! No! 3rd gear! Oh, now we're speeding up a bit! Can we hit 39? Back to 4th! Oh, crap, you thought you saw someone hit their brakes 8 miles ahead and you're slowing down! Back to 3rd!

Just commit and drive 40 miles per hour. Please?

For 50 cents more you can get a barrel of soda!

2007-09-03T15:01:00.000-05:00

Today we went to the movie theater to see The Simpsons Movie (pretty good...kind of like a really long Simpsons episode). I didn't remember the last time we'd gone to the movies, much less the last time we ever purchased a beverage or snack. Typically we'll stop by CVS or something on the way if we want a snack for the movie (contraband!). Anyway, once we'd gotten our seats, Brooke sent me off for a small Sprite. I decided to get a small Coke. The stereotypically awkward teenager at the counter informed me that for just 50 cents more, I could make it a medium. I'm glad that I didn't. Really glad. When I saw the enormous cup that was passing as a small, my jaw may have actually dropped. I laughed to myself as I walked back into the theater. Now, at first glance, the cup may not seem THAT gigantic:

However, I believe the view from above really puts it into perspective:

I think if I'd opted to go for the Medium, they'd have to throw in a free snorkel.

Photo Friday: Show and Tell

2007-09-02T17:13:00.001-05:00

My latest project has been painting the fascia boards and soffits around our house. This is made less tedious by listening to music. I looked at the stack of CDs I'd listened to throughout the day, and sensed a theme: primarily loud and angry. Well, with the exception of Moby, perhaps. But who doesn't want to listen to a bald white vegan while climbing up and down a ladder all day?

Making Farting Noises with your Armpit is Immature

2007-08-28T15:54:00.000-05:00

Michael Vick: A short play by Sarah

Federal Prosecutors: Um, you're in trouble, Mr. Vick. J'accuse!
Michael Vick: No way. I'm innocent.
Federal Prosecutors: We mean it.
Michael Vick: No way. I'm innocent.
Federal Prosecutors: Your friends just pleaded guilty.
Michael Vick: No way. I'm screwed. And maybe a little guilty.

The end.

Sadly, it is not the end. As you may have heard, Michael Vick pleaded guilty to federal dogfighting charges, and apologized. To paraphrase, he basically said that everyone makes mistakes, and that he was immature.

I've made mistakes. Who hasn't? But somehow we've all managed not to torture animals for fun. Immature? I think the word he was looking for is inhumane.

Now, to be fair, I've only seen the story on TV, so I'm sure I don't know the whole story. The news media have a habit of saying that they have "the latest," but only seem to regurgitate the same sound bites. Still, I think we get the picture. Even if Mr. Vick didn't actually kill any dogs, as he claims (though he previously claimed that he was innocent), he was part of the operation, and gave us a pretty good glimpse of his character. I hope his sentence includes a lot of community service, preferably picking up poop at an animal shelter.

Fairly Entertaining

2007-08-22T18:27:00.000-05:00

This week I bring you an exclusive report from the Skowhegan State Fair. It is the place to be, after all. Last weekend Brooke's sister came for a visit, and we offered up a few suggestions of things to do (other top contenders were a balloon festival and visit to a lighthouse). I was secretly rooting for the fair, so I was pretty happy when that's what she picked.

We were a little late getting started, and missed the pig scramble. We did, however, make it to the Galaxy of Thrills. This consisted of a very small racetrack perched about 40 feet in the air. The guy rode around it on a motorcycle, and a woman in hotpants (Galaxy Girl, if you must know) twirled around, sometimes suspended by just her neck or her toes. Good times!

I was especially interested in the proximity of the "stay healty" sign to the giant Fried Dough stand. The back of the "stay healthy" sign held hand sanitizer dispensers. It was a tad windy when I attempted to "stay healthy," and I ended up getting hand sanitizer on my leg. Tingly!

Where else but a state fair will you find Steak on a Stick? Hopefully nowhere.

What fair would be complete without disturbing giant bears in overalls? Come on, little boy, climb into my belly! You can't run away forever, little boy.

A barn just for swine! Dreamy! Unfortunately by the time we got there, the swine barn only contained one lonely piglet. Maybe he didn't do well in the pig scramble, and was left to think about what he'd done.

And of course there are the rides, which are my favorite part of the fair. Brooke's sister and I rode a ride called the "Freak Out," which was pretty cool (but short). We also rode "The Apollo," which seemed pretty tame from the ground. However, upon being locked into the metal cage (always a good sign), we spun round and round, sometimes upside down. For a good portion of the ride, I had no idea where the ground was. It was pretty sweet.

Belated Photo Friday

2007-08-14T17:18:00.000-05:00

I finally found the picture I originally wanted to use for the Tree theme.
This was from the parking lot outside my dorm in college. Since I had a 10-speed, parking wasn't a big issue for me.Sadly, I'm pretty sure this tree has since been cut down to make way for more Saabs and Volvos.

Photo Friday catch-up: Artsy Fartsy and Trees

2007-08-13T14:57:00.001-05:00

I'm a little behind on my Photo Friday assignments. This is what happens when your lawn needs to be mowed and your shower is leaking. Thankfully, both issues have been remedied, and only one required the use of a basin wrench.

Anyhow, here are the past two themes.

Trees

Wall Art (or, what's on my wall)

Open Window, Insert Fan

2007-08-10T08:56:00.000-05:00

It is now safe to put your window fans back in your windows. After two months of living on the edge just to enjoy a breeze, I have finally heard back from the folks at Holmes:

Hello Sarah,

First and foremost, I do apologize for the delay in responding to your
e-mail. In answer to your concern, this was a typographical error on
our part. I apologize if this may have caused you any inconveniences. We
are in the process of correcting that in our future manuals.

Thank you for your time and patience.

Marvina
Jarden Consumer Solutions

Composting for Jesus

2007-08-06T09:35:00.000-05:00

On Sunday I built (I'm using that term loosely) a compost bin. After seeing the prices for new compost bins, I figured it'd be way cheaper just to build my own out of pallets. Plus, it's probably more environmentally friendly to recycle used pallets than to buy a new plastic compost bin.
Getting pallets is fairly easy, provided you have a vehicle in which to transport them. Most any business that has a loading dock will be happy to let you take away their old pallets (I'd recommend asking first, if you don't want to end up in the newspaper's "Police Blotter" section).

I used eight corner brackets, which cost about $5 for the lot. All that was needed for tools was a cordless drill. I also used a reciprocating saw; this was not actually necessary -- it came with my circular saw, and I hadn't had a chance to use it yet.

Anyway, assembling the bin took about 1/2 hour, and probably another 1/2 hour or so was spent clearing out overgrowth in the area I wanted to put the bin. I will be the first to admit that it isn't what one might call "pretty," but it is functional and mostly out of sight. If everyone who went to church on Sunday (in the interest of full disclosure, I did not go to church on Sunay; I prefer to express my spirituality on Saturdays at Home Depot, generally in the plumbing aisle) came home and built a compost bin, the world would be a better place.

Flippin' Out

2007-08-04T13:39:00.000-05:00

We live in a society, people. A SOCIETY!

I was driving home from work the other day, and stopped at a stop sign. Shocking, I know. As I waited for the traffic on the main road to pass so that I could turn right, a red truck approached from the opposite direction. I have recreated the scene for you:

Since (a) I was at the intersection first and (b) I was taking a right and Mr. Red Truck was taking a left, I clearly had right of way. However, this information was of little importance to Mr. RT, who, when I started to turn right, proceeded to pull out in front of me. Not only did he cut me off, but the big-haired hoochie in the passenger seat flipped me off! She even went so far as to extend her arm out the window of the truck, just to ensure that I got a good look at her middle finger.

I was kind of hoping that Mr. RT's tire would blow out as some sort of retribution for ignoring basic rules of driving. Either that, or a giant winged creature (see illustration) could come down from the sky and pluck he and his lady friend up in their jerk-mobile. I would have been satisfied with either occurence.

Photo Friday: Pink

2007-07-27T14:05:00.000-05:00

This week's Photo Friday theme is Pink. You will note, however, that it is not P!nk. This is all for the best, since I'm not a member of the paparazzi, and have been asked to maintain at least 300 yards distance from any celebrities.

die installation!

2007-07-26T11:32:00.000-05:00

I tend to have a lot of "other duties as assigned" parts to my job. Today I had to test an installer for a German software program. While this was an interesting task, it was slightly hindered by the fact that, aside from Farfegnugen, I don't know any German.

Things were going pretty well until the end, when I may have accidentally clicked "I don't agree" to the licensing terms. So close...no bratwurst for me!

Photo Friday: Lucky Charms

2007-07-20T14:40:00.001-05:00

I don't have any lucky trinkets, so I took a more literal approach to this week's theme. In doing so, I became the weird girl at the grocery store photographing cereal.

Do you think the marshmallows are whole grain too?

For those who don't want to refinance their house to buy a box of cereal, there are Marshmallow Mateys. Matey's are fronted by a friendly-looking kangaroo named Cool Blue, who oddly reminds me of Charlie the Starkist Tuna. Cool Blue would like to you know that Mateys offers you twice as much gelatinous goodness as Lucky Charms. Take that, you bastard leprechaun!

Coloring outside the lines

2007-07-14T17:00:00.000-05:00

While taking my Photo Friday pictures, I just kept snapping. Here are some pictures I took, outside the Photo Friday theme.

Photo Friday: Tshirt

2007-07-13T14:11:00.001-05:00

I'm a sucker for bad computer humor, or anything with flames.
For this Photo Friday installment, I submit my geeky tees:

Photo Friday: vacation

2007-07-07T13:13:00.000-05:00

Alas, I am not going ON vacation (though I did take off a couple days to do work on the house...do I know how to have a good time or what?), but rather posting pictures of past vacations for this week's Photo Friday theme.

We tend not to go anywhere terribly exotic, so you will not be treated to pictures of me parasailing on the Rio Grande, nor will you see me swimming with sting rays. Mainly because I can't swim, but also because those sound like awfully expensive vacations.

A few years ago we went up to Moosehead Lake. While trying (and eventually failing) to find Mt. Katadin (only we could manage to lose a mountain), I spotted some moose. Naturally my first instinct was to jump out of the vehicle. The moose were not helpful in offering directions.

The undiscovered vacation destination: Muleshoe, Texas!

Get Moxie at Moxie Falls! If only this waterfall were made of Moxie...mmm, it's the official soft drink of Maine.

Please call us back and we'll tell you if you're okay!

2007-07-06T09:56:00.000-05:00

So, last week I had a pesky pair of moles removed. No biggie -- I've had plenty sliced off. As a precaution, the doctor sent them in for testing to make sure they weren't chock full of cancer. I had kind of forgotten about them, except when fighting the urge to pick the scab left by the cauterizer (now with more cauterizing action!!!). I was checking my messages this morning, and had one that was left by the dermatologist's office at around 6 pm yesterday. The woman said that my results were back, and that I should call them back. That doesn't sound good. I call back and am informed that I have to talk to the nurse, Julie, and that she'll call me back. Does this sound good to you? No, it does not. And it's a Friday. Will she get back to me by the end of the day?

Finally Julie calls back to inform me that she had the test results. Pause. "Everything looks fine," she informs me. Why couldn't they have just said that on the message, instead of making me think that I was going to have to have a head transplant?

Happy Independence Day, America. Let's Get Nuts!

2007-07-04T09:46:00.000-05:00

As a special present to our star-spangled nation, I am about to propose a sweeping change to our electoral process. I'm not sure exactly whom I should speak with regarding what I'm sure can only be a step forward in the democratic process. You see, my idea is sure to save millions of dollars AND provide wholesome (maybe) entertainment. Who would turn down such a gift?

Let's face it, no one really understands the Electoral College. You know someone agreed to it when they were high and were too embarrassed to admit their mistake, so they just went along with it. It's no secret that Americans are the biggest complainers, yet don't show up to the polls on election day.

However, we are really good at voting eight million times for our favorite contestant on Who Wants to Be A Big Star for The Next Few Days. I feel it is only natural that we completely abandon the presidential primaries, the electoral college, and the Straight Talk Express, or whatever the hell John McCain had.

What we need is a presidential reality show. Let's call it "The Big House." All the candidates will have to live together in a house, and each week one will be voted off the show. House neighbors would include Ann Coulter and Al Franken. There will be special challenges, like explaining immigration policy to third graders, milking cows, and boot camp day. Who wouldn't want to see Hilary Clinton climb a wall, or Mitt Romney move commando-style over unfavorable terrain? There would be special elimination round games, including Wheel of Impeachment and Name that Constitutional Amendment. Viewers could look forward to a special field trip wherein all the candidates would be dropped in the middle of nowhere, and must find their way back to civilization sans Blackberry or GPS. If they can't lead themselves out of the woods, how are they supposed to lead the nation?

You see, America, it is all so simple. It's not that we don't care about electing our president. It's just that we want to sit on our asses eating microwave Freedom Fries while we do it. And we want to be entertained, damn it!

Photo Friday: Red Alert

2007-06-29T14:54:00.001-05:00

This week's Photo Friday theme is Red. I have one new picture for you, and because I am lazy, three old pictures.

New:

Old(er):

Highway to Heaven

2007-06-22T15:14:00.000-05:00

Clearly the world is about to come to a close, as I am in agreement with the Vatican that the world is full of bad drivers. As you may have heard, the big V has issued a new set of commandments, which apparently Moses has driven down the mountain in his hulking SUV. You see, these are no ordinary commandments, but rather, driving commandments. If you weren't plagued by enough Catholic guilt, here are 10 more things to keep you in line, straight from His mouth to your bluetooth headset.

For your reading pleasure, here are the new commandments. Snarky comments are in blue.

1. You shall not kill. If you say so.
2. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm. Does that mean I get to eat little wafers while driving?
3. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events. Maybe if people would sit upgright, the road would be safer. What is it with 20-something guys leaning way to the right when they drive? Do they think it makes them look cool? It makes them look like they have a horrible spinal defect. And also stupid.
4. Be charitable and help your neighbor in need, especially victims of accidents. What if my neighbor caused the accident, and what if I hate him?
5. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin. Sorry America, you're going straight to hell.
6. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so. Define "charitably." Does that preclude opening a can of whoop-ass?
7. Support the families of accident victims. Well, even I can't come up with a sarcastic comment for that.
8. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness. Again, when would be the appropriate time for whoop-ass?
9. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party. I think the more vulnerable party is Planet Earth. We're gonna have to to about a zillion Hail Marys for that one.
10. Feel responsible toward others. Only if they use their turn signal.

Photo Friday: Foot Fetish

2007-06-16T14:46:00.000-05:00

Technically this week's theme was "Sock it to Me," but I don't have any good sock shots. I was wearing socks in one of these photos, if that counts...

That Cow is Really Mad

2007-06-15T15:33:00.000-05:00

I will drink hot coffee if it is one thousand degrees Calvin outside. The air conditioning in my truck is broken, which makes driving to work while drinking coffee really special on those nice hot days. However, I firmly believe that cold coffee is just wrong - I don't care if you call it "Iced," it's just the chilled spawn of Satan.

Today I found an exception to the rule. It is called the Mad Cow Milkshake, and consists of espresso and skim milk (I was doing pretty well until the coffee slinger asked if I wanted whipped cream -- to cancel out the skim milk, of course). Oh, sure, it has 8 bazillion calories, but like Lucky Charms, it is Magically Delicious.

It's All So Clear To Me Now

2007-06-07T17:48:00.000-05:00

I have breaking news for you. George Orwell is not dead. He is alive, and apparently writing safety manuals for Holmes electronic products. That is the only explanation for the superb doublespeak propaganda that came with our new Holmes Window Fan.

See our window fan manual? Doesn't it look friendly and informative? Don't be fooled. Things are about to get nuts.
As an alert consumer filled with endless paranoia, I diligently read the Instructions and Important Safety Warnings contained in the manual. I was particularly interested in Safety Warning #17 (is it bad that a window fan comes with more than 17 Safety Warnings?):

Yes, you read that correctly. They have warned consumers that the Holmes Window fan should not be used in a window. I decided that I really must inquire about this.

Here's what I wanted to write:

Please help. I placed my Holmes Window fan in a window, unaware of the danger that awaited me. After turning the fan on, I sat in the gentle breeze and became panicked when I read that to reduce the risk of electric shock to my person, I should not put the Window Fan in the window. I immediately became disoriented but managed to run away from the fan. I am now hiding in my office, afraid that the fan will injure me. It has been 7 days and nothing has happened, but I am afraid to come within a 20 foot radius of the wind demon. Please send help.

Here's what I really wrote:

I recently purchased your Holmes HAWF3095 Window Fan. While reading the Owner's Guide, I was surprised to learn that you do not recommend placing the Window Fan in a Window. I am confused. Please advise.

I have yet to hear back, but can only imagine that the answer will be clear and concise.

Nasology

2007-06-01T14:49:00.000-05:00

Today has been plagued with unfortunate, and in some cases, potentially OSHA-violating smells. There was a large-scale barbecue nearby today, and starting at 9 a.m., there were a few industrial-sized charcoal grills working their way through 2000 pieces of chicken (I got the official count when I called to complain about the smell). Oddly, it wasn't so much the smell of chicken that bothered me, but the fact that my office, a mere 30 feet from Barbecue Central, smelled as if it had been doused in lighter fluid.

At lunchtime the smell was really bad, so I decided to go for a walk and get some fresh air. As I walked by chicken char-char, I saw, much to my delight, that a truck was unloading fresh seafood! Another smell to envelop my space! A present from the sea. Hooray!

I just went to dump out some water in the bathroom, and was met with an unfortunate funk. It seems that the smell attack is not over. There's only an hour left until 5 pm. I think I will leave work early today.

Upta Boothbay Hahbah (translation: Up to Boothbay Harbor)

2007-05-22T18:02:00.000-05:00

You see, in Maine, "up to" is one word. Also, whenever you're going somewhere, you're headed "up." The actual direction you're headed in is of no importance. I remember one of my supervisors for my college job talking about how she was going "up to Rhode Island." If you have ever glanced at a map, you will know that Rhode Island is a good day's drive south. Anyway.

Brooke's mom has been visiting, and we were low on ideas for what to do on a cool, damp day in Maine. A coworker had recommended a trip to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens; however, upon arriving in the CMBG parking lot, it was clear that not much was in bloom. We decided not to pay $10 per person admission to see what would eventually become pretty flowers.

Instead we toodled around in Bar Harbor, and came upon a large man of the sea. How could we possibly resist this photo opportunity? Brooke was embarrassed that I was taking pictures. She was perhaps more embarrassed when she realized we were all wearing yellow -- including the giant fisherman.

We then had lunch at a local eatery known as "McSeagulls." I was surprised to have a couple vegetarian items to choose from on the menu. I decided to avoid the "Mc" in McSeagulls with a mexican salad. Ole!

Photo Friday: Water, Water Everywhere

2007-05-18T11:24:00.000-05:00

For a person who doesn't care for water, I sure do have a lot of pictures of it.
This week's Photo Friday Theme is water.

Mackworth Island, Maine
Androscoggin River, Topsham ME
(in Sagadahoc County -- we just love our long names here)
Muleshoe, Texas
While this picture isn't technically of water, it is of something that spews forth water, so I thought that was close enough
And even more Mackworth Island...
Because I am an overachiever, I also have a sub-category for you:
Animals Drinking Water

Farewell, Falwell

2007-05-17T07:13:00.000-05:00

(I'm saving "Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead" for the departure of Fred Phelps)

In honor of the recently departed, I have composed a short note to Mr. F:

Dear Jerry,

You were right. Gays caused the whole September 11 fiasco. Specifically, it was me. You see, I change the oil on our cars. Bin Laden got wind of this after a long day of misinterpreting the Qur'an once again (you can understand that, can't you, Jerry?). Not only did he want to cut off the American oil supply -- he wanted to make damn sure no queer was pumping synthetic oil into a truck (egads! a Ford!). You can understand that, can't you, Jerry?

When you were alive, I just couldn't bear to admit that you were right. But now that you're gone, the floodgates are going to open. For example, Katrina was also caused by gays. We got levee mixed up with dyke, and well, once we got started we just couldn't stop.

Bye bye!

Photo Friday: Green

2007-05-11T09:32:00.000-05:00

Imagine! Posting my Photo Friday submission on a Friday. Unheard of. Because I am an overachiever, I have four "green" themed entries for you.

Green Tree (not to be confused with Green Tea)

Green Bugs:

Green Machine:

Green Light (my grandmother likes to stock up):

D.O.T: Department of Topophobia

2007-05-08T20:05:00.000-05:00

Today I got to experience my tax dollars hard at work.

Exactly one week ago I left a message at the Department of Transportation. Today my call was returned. Let me back up just a little bit. We live in a small town of about 2,400 people. That number may include some goats, I'm not sure. While we live on Main Street, it is not exactly a bustling village center. We do, however, get a fair number of folks driving by. Unfortunately we also get a fair number of nosy-nellies (or lookie-loos, if you will), and wanted just a wee bit of privacy, as our house is fairly close to the road. Additionally, a significant amount of trash ends up on our lawn, as the Nellies and Loos are also litterbugs. Hence my idea for putting up a fence. Oh, sure, some nations are tearing down the walls. Myself, I'd prefer to put them back up.

Anyway, before I started drawing up the plans for a fence, I decided to contact our local code enforcement officer (who, I believe is also the code enforcement officer for about 5 other towns) to see how far back from the road I had to put the fence. You know, to allow plenty of room for the snow plows and all. I was thinking maybe 3 or 4 feet. So of course I thought he was all hopped up on the crack when he told me that the setback distance was 33 feet from the center of the road. He informed me that since I live on a state road, I have to call the Department of Transportation, but that they're probably going to tell me the same thing. Hooray. So I leave a message with the DOT, explaining what information I'm looking for, and eagerly await a call back.

That brings me to today. I got a call back from Ms. Authority (names have been changed to protect the innocent; but she did refer to herself as "Ms" -- who the hell does that???). I had to once again explain what information I needed, and why I needed it. She informed me that the general setback was 33 feet. "But that's going to put me in the middle of my front lawn," I informed her. She did not seem to see what the problem was. She asked where I lived, and said she'd look it up on the map. She informed me that some setbacks were 33 feet, and some were 50. Fifty feet would put the fence approximately in my living room. "Where do you live?" Little did I know what a time-consuming question this would turn out to be. I told her my town, and said "I live on Main Street. It's right off the highway." Well, these would have been simple enough directions in a normal, sane universe. However, Ms. A informed me that the map showing right-of-ways was from 1940, before the highway was put in. I was stunned. Stunned and silent. She may as well have been looking at a map from when Maine was part of Massachusetts.

"It could take me awhile to find this," she warned. She kept naming roads. I'd heard of the roads, but could only say "that's nowhere near me." I asked if she could look it up online. No, she could not. I offered to fax her a map (I sensed that an email attachment might just send her over the edge). No.

Eventually Ms. A named off a road that at some point intersects with my road. "Yes! That's it!" I exclaimed, nearly choking on a grape (I needed some sort of sustenance during what I could only imagine would be a very long phone call). "Yeah, it looks like 33 feet. From the center of the road. Make sure to measure from the center of the road." Now, I'm pretty sure that when I'm in the middle of the road with a tape measure and get hit by a car, Brooke can sue the state for telling me to stand in the middle of the road to measure my setback distance. Order in the court!

The Higher the Heels, the Closer to God

2007-04-23T18:31:00.000-05:00

Clearly I've been going about this the wrong way. I need to lose weight. Not like those skinny girls who say they need to lose weight, therefore making you want to punch them in their skinny little faces. No, I really do. My motivation for going to the gym is the thought that I might be able to fit into some of my old clothes. It'll be like I went shopping, but without the horror of having to actually go shopping. In a clothing store. With people. It would be great, I thought.
While reading the Sunday paper, I came upon this Nutri-Hoochie ad and realized the error in my thinking. Instead of thinking about my favorite old pair of pants, I should be trying to figure out what type of heel would look best with a string bikini. Now I see where I went wrong! Oh, sure, I'll talk a big game about how I hate women's clothes because they're poorly made and chock full of spandex, but it is now evident that I need to refocus. Perhaps I'll start off slowly, with a nice leotard and a pair of pumps.

Well, crud.

2007-04-18T14:47:00.000-05:00

What's going on with dog food? There's yet another recall, this time affecting the brand of dog food we switched to recently. Keep in mind that we picked this dog food specifically because it was not affected by the previous Menu Foods recall, and contained no wheat gluten/rat poison.

I'm at a loss as to what dog food to feed. Perhaps I should just feed them suet cakes. It seems to work well for the my chubby-cheeked chipmunk friend.

Photo Friday: What's on TV

2007-04-14T16:22:00.000-05:00

With the newly released DVD of Twin Peaks Season 2, my TV is ripe with the image of Special Agent Dale Cooper. Very special, indeed. This photo shows our TP collection: Season One, Season Two, Fire Walk With Me, and of course commemorative Twin Peaks cards. I think there's even a card for creamed corn. If you've never watched the show, this will make no sense, and is perhaps for the best.

I am including, for your benefit of course, a photo of the Log Lady gracing our screen.
Also in view are some more of our series' on DVD...Seinfeld and The Simpsons. Delightful. I will note that this very TV was purchased on Craigslist. You are filled with a feeling of awe, I can tell.

Mitt Romney Invented Hunting

2007-04-11T11:28:00.000-05:00

Oh, Mitt Romney is the man. Yes indeedy. If you haven't heard the latest, allow me to summarize:

Mitt Romney said he's been a lifelong hunter.
Someone figured out that he hasn't had a hunting license in ages.
His campaign says, "oops, he's only been hunting twice."
Romney says, "I shoot varmints. Rats and rabbits." Does not specify how many times he's been hunting.

Is this going to be the caliber of the presidentail campaign? Is hunting the barometer of manliness? "Hey, vote for me! I like to aim my gun at little furry creatures and pull the trigger!" Is this really what it takes to lead the country?

It is no secret that I'm no fan of hunting. I can understand if you're hunting to provide food for your family; however, I suspect that Romney doesn't hunt for sustenance. How can people call hunting a sport? If I'm involved in a sporting event, chances are my opponents are aware that they're playing, and have comparable equipment.

Don Imus-t be an idiot

2007-04-10T16:56:00.000-05:00

So, you've heard the ruckus about Don Imus' recent comments. I like how he said that he's not a racist. This is just another example of why people don't get to say whether or not their a racist -- their words and actions decide that.

Will Imus be the next in what is becoming a long line of celebrities whisked away to "rehab" (read: mudbath, followed by a Swedish massage; perhaps you can just exfolliate out the ignorance) for racist or homophobic comments? Or, were his ratings low, and this little outburst merely a ploy to boost listenership?

My coworker had an excellent suggestion. Don Imus should be fined heavily. The money from the fine should then go to fund a Rutgers women's basketball scholarship. I bet that's money better spent than on a spa retreat. Oops, I mean rehab.

Photo Friday: Spring

2007-04-05T18:38:00.000-05:00

What the hell, Al Gore, what the hell? The calendar says April, but the weather says "screw you!"

Welcome to Spring in Maine. Last weekend it was warm enough to go outside without a coat (well, for Mainers, anyway; when it hits 50 degrees we start pulling out the shorts). This morning, I awoke to the following spring-like weather:

The dogs were vaguely interested in the snow.

Later in the day, after the plow trucks had done their magic, I spotted a few dedicated souls at Fat Boys, the local drive-in restaurant. Please note that the roof is not normally white.

And finally, nothing says spring like having to bury your groceries in the snow because the power has been out for 7 hours. Springy!

Photo Friday: Before & After

2007-03-30T18:26:00.000-05:00

We embarked upon this project a couple years ago. It seems to fit this week's "Before & After" theme.

Before... Our "family room," complete with carpeting:

During: It turns out that our carpet was liberally glued to the concrete floor. Fun!
During, Phase Two: It took an industrial floor sander, many days of scraping, and some potentially toxic chemicals to get the adhesive up. Note to self: do not glue carpet to concrete.After: No more carpeting! Easy to clean industrial surface!

Jambalaya!

2007-03-29T12:33:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I'm writing a post about American Idol. I'm not a regular viewer, but I have tuned in a couple times, perhaps driven by sheer curiosity as to how Sanjaya is still on the show. Man, if I knew about the ponyhawk in high school, the hair landscape of Lisbon Falls would have been much, much different. But I digress.

On Tuesday, Brooke and I watched American Idol. I explained (as if I am some sort of American Idol tour guide) how Sanjaya really wasn't a good singer, and that he was hanging on by hair alone. Brooke thought I said Jambalaya, so now that is what we call him. Anyway, we had a reasonable enough time making fun of the judges. Could Randy complete a sentence without using the word "dog"? Could Paula, in what appeared to be a drug-induced haze, finish a sentence? Would Simon call me directly on my mobile? Will the Rebuplicans fire the judges because they're not promoting the party's agenda? America needs to know!

The small shred of dignity I was holding onto was based on the fact that while I do admit to watching the show one or two times, I didn't vote. But then I felt like Bill Clinton. You know, Mr. "I tried marijuana, but I didn't inhale." Who the hell tries marijuana and doesn't inhale? I really trusted him less after that. That reminds me... who's voting for Hilary?

Once again, I digress.

Get a Grip!

2007-03-27T14:33:00.000-05:00

Me: The tires on Brooke's car were really bald.
You: How bald were they?
Me: They were so bald, Sy Sperling put them on the Board of Directors for the Hair Club For Men!
You: WTF???

Today I got new tires for the wagon. Because the Jetta was apparently designed by the Crazy Hippie Lady who built our house, the tire camber (I had a fascinating conversation with the tire guy about alignments. Seriously.) is really weird on the Jetta. What this means is that you can go 70 miles an hour on an off-ramp, but the tires don't wear evenly. Thank you, Volkswagen.

I did resist the urge to get the tires inflated with Nitrogen. It makes me feel like a race car driver (what with the drive-like-an-asshole tire camber and all), but (a) I hardly ever drive the Jetta, and (b) I know it's probably a load of crap (or, as ABC's John Stossel would say, "What a Crock!"). The nitrogen pushers claim that it keeps the tire properly inflated, and expands and contracts less than "regular" air. But regular air is about 78% nitrogen anyway, so does it really make that much difference? Maybe Dateline should do a series called "To Catch a Nitrogen Predator." It's just a suggestion.

The Monday of My Discontent

2007-03-26T17:20:00.000-05:00

Today I went on the stairmaster for 15 minutes, which on the Fat Burner Plus setting, is about enough time to climb nearly a mile worth of stairs. After that I wipe down my machine, and survey the exercise bike situation. This beefy sweaty guy gets off one of the machines, and just walks off! He has big sweat rings all over the place, and does not wipe down his machine. Okay, maybe he's just going to get a drink of water. No, he is not. He just walks out of the gym, never to return again. So today I became the crazy woman who wipes down the machines before she gets on them. And after, of course. I'm not an animal.

I had a quick bite to eat, and then off to a meeting. Since I called the meeting, I got to the room early, cleaned off the whiteboard, and proceeded to write down the agenda (one of my pet peeves is a meeting with no agenda). Most people arrived on time, which I appreciated. However, it was like pulling teeth to get people to commit to anything. Maybe we just had really non-decisive stuff to discuss. Or maybe we all had a case of the Mondays.

Photo Friday: Bra-vo

2007-03-24T10:16:00.000-05:00

This week's assignment was to take an artistic picture of a bra. I am not making this up. I decided to go for cheap, sophomoric humor on this one. It's really the best I could do. Really.

Nice Jugs

And, to complete the series,

Nice Rack

Photo Friday: Dirty Secrets

2007-03-19T12:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm taking a safe approach to this week's (well, techically last week's) theme. I could have done a post about how I got chicken pox in college (yes, it really is awful to get it as an adult) and about how I got it EVERYWHERE. Places a lady doesn't want the pox, if you know what I mean.
But I really can't take a picture of that, and even if I could, you really wouldn't want to see it. Really.

ANYWAY, my post for this week is of my Place of Shame. The crazy hippie lady who built our house left us an unfinished storage space. In addition to being unfinished, it was also uninsulated, which caused quite a draft. I got some Raft-R-Mate, and several rolls of insulation and went to town. The picture doesn't completely do it justice, but this space is not very tall. It might be 4 feet at its highest point. This makes for very difficult insulation, and much of the work had to be done lying down. You'd think that'd be relaxing, but it is not.

Our friends were kind enough to give us some leftover sheetrock. We had to cut it down to load it in my truck, and then again to fit it through the very narrow, short door that leads into the storage space. I was lazy and decided to "eyeball" it when I was cutting the sheetrock, and didn't exactly end up with nice squared off edges. I quickly grew tired of having to lay on my back, knees in the air to support the sheetrock, while trying to hang the stuff. An excellent ab workout, but that's about it.

Pet Food Recall

2007-03-18T10:11:00.000-05:00

I just learned that a number of dog and cat food companies are recalling various types of wet food. For the full story, go here.

Below is a summary of brands covered under the recall. You can find specific information (brands and products, and product codes/upc codes to check for here (click on dog or cat food, and then the brand you use).

Below are lists of specific brands recalled by Menu Foods, in addition to Proctor & Gamble's recall of certain Iams and Eukanuba products. Menu Brands lists the brands on its Web site, www.menufoods.com, and advises consumers to call 1-866-895-2708 for more information.

Recalled cat foods

Americas Choice; Preferred Pets; Authority; Best Choice; Companion; Compliments; Demoulas Market Basket; Fine Feline Cat, Shep Dog; Food Lion; Foodtown; Giant Companion; Good n Meaty; Hannaford; Hill Country Fare; Hy-Vee; Key Food; Laura Lynn; Li'l Red; Loving Meals; Main Choice; Nutriplan; Nutro Max Gourmet Classics; Nutro Natural Choice; Paws; Presidents Choice; Price Chopper; Priority; Save-A-Lot; Schnucks; Sophistacat; Special Kitty; Springfield Pride; Sprout; Total Pet; My True Friend; Wegmans; Western Family; White Rose; and Winn Dixie.

Recalled dog foods

America's Choice; Preferred Pets; Authority; Award; Best Choice; Big Bet; Big Red; Bloom; Bruiser; Cadillac; Companion; Demoulas Market Basket; Fine Feline Cat; Shep Dog; Food Lion; Giant Companion; Great Choice; Hannaford; Hill Country Fare; Hy-Vee; Key Food; Laura Lynn; Loving Meals; Main Choice; Mixables; Nutriplan; Nutro Max; Nutro Natural Choice; Nutro; Ol'Roy; Paws; Pet Essentials; Pet Pride; President's Choice; Price Chopper; Priority; Publix; Roche Bros; Save-A-Lot; Schnucks; Springsfield Pride; Sprout; Stater Bros; Total Pet; My True Friend; Western Family; White Rose; Winn Dixie and Your Pet.

Healthology

2007-03-16T08:50:00.000-05:00

Once again I am left to solve this nation's problems. As you may have heard, Dick Cheney recently had a little case of DVT. This does not, I found out after thorough research, stand for Democrats Vowing Treason. No, it actually stands for Deep Vein Thrombosis, which I'm sure is just as life threatening to Mr. Cheney. As a service to my readers, I have compiled a time line of Cheney's hospitalizations. As a reminder, this is the guy who is second in command. Of the country. I hope you appreciate that I have spent valuable minutes of my work day on this task.

Since I am not one to merely identify a problem, I will present you with my solution:

Joan Rivers. She's what, 800 years old? This woman is held together by Botox and the fear of a stiff Santa Ana wind. Yet she manages to get to work. Speaking of which, she can clearly work while intoxicated. This is the woman I want to be our second in command. The United States of America can count on Joan Rivers to pull through in the event of a transfer of power. She'll do so with style and grace. And if that doesn't work, she'll bonk you on the head with her microphone.

Look Ma, No Tank!

2007-03-12T18:47:00.000-05:00

I may have mentioned the crazy hippie lady who built our house. She may or may not have purchased our plumbing fixtures from the back of a truck (and not even the back of a nice truck). I'm not sure where she managed to find our downstairs toilet. The toilet itself looks new and functional, but it was running all the time, and no amount of adjusting would stop it. So I decided to replace all the parts inside the tank. To start fresh, if you will. This is when I discovered that the downstairs toilet is not a normal toilet; "universal fit" parts will not fit, universally or otherwise. Our toilet does not have a flapper (and by that I don't mean a sassy lady from the 20's). If you know anything about toilets, you will know that this is not normal.

I didn't know anything about plumbing before we bought our house, but necessity has dictated that I learn. I invested in a very handy plumbing book, which covers lots of stuff. It does not, however, cover our style of toilet. I ended up having to order the parts from a plumbing supply dealer in Knoxville, Tennessee. Yeehaw. I was delighted to see that the packaging claimed that it "installs easily." Only 15 easy steps!

I have a very long list of things to do around the house. I was convinced that I'd be able to cross this one off my list this weekend.

I dilligently went through the steps, and replaced not only the flush valve, but also the fill valve and the watter supply line. You know, while I was at it. I wouldn't have normally taken so long, but apparently Conan the Barbarian installed the toilet, and overtightened everything to the point that things had seized up. Choice words were exchanged between myself and the toilet. But I finally got everything put back together, put the tank back on...shiny and new parts waiting to make their debut. I even put thread tape on anything threaded. Mostly because the thread tape helps prevent leaks, but also because it is pink and pretty.

As a final step, I put a few drops of food coloring into the tank, to check for leaks.

A small but distinct leak, matching the food coloring that I had put in the tank, appeared between the base of the toilet and the floor. To quote Homer Simpson, "D'Oh!"

There wasn't even a leak there before! It waited until I had put everything back together. So now I get to disassemble the toilet once again, this time adding a Wax Ring to the mix. I am going to have the biggest plumber's crack this side of the Androscoggin River!

I'd Rather Have an Exclamation Point than a Period

2007-03-09T17:52:00.000-05:00

Dear Uterus,

What the hell? Who did you piss off to get stuck with this crap? Oh, sure, you can give it a cute name like "aunt Flo," or "the visitor," or, as they said on the one episode of Everybody Loves Raymond that I saw, "Ladies' Days." All the cutsie names will not negate the fact that this is a giant pain in my ass. Or uterus, if you will. So, uterus, what gives?

Love, your friend Sarah.Allow me to explain. I got my period in 5th grade, and have been pretty annoyed by it ever since. I mean, is this absoultely necessary? Really? Couldn't something else happen once a month instead? Like, I could get a funny-shaped rash. I get enough rashes anyway; one more wouldn't be much bother. Or maybe I could pop out a miniature coin from my hoo-hoo every month. It would be like a prize! When I collected enough coins, I could redeem them for something, like a basketball, or a car.

Did you realize how much feminine hygeine (don't you love that? It sounds like scrubbing bubbles for your Lady Bits) products cost? They aren't cheap, especially if you're like me and prefer to buy the kind not soaked in toxic chemicals. AND, as an extra slap in the face, they're taxable items! There should be some sort of tax deduction wherin I would be reimbursed for these costs. Technically, they're health-related. I can see it now. I imagine calling the IRS to ask a question, and getting the following message: "If you'd like to e-File, press 1. If you have a question about your imputed income, press 2. If you need a copy of the W-1056 Aunt-Flo Form, press 3."

Photo Friday: Mug Shot

2007-03-09T17:33:00.000-05:00

This week's assignment was to take a photo of your favorite mug. Well, not YOUR favorite mug; how the hell would I know what your favorite mug is? And while we're talking about it, it's rather rude to assume that I even want to take a picture of your mug.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's talk about MY favorite mug, or mugs as the case may be. The mug on the left supports the claim that everything really is bigger in Texas. Mugs are no exception (the photo really doesn't do it justice; the thing could probably hold an entire pot of coffee).

The mug on the left is my Twin Peaks ("A Damn Fine Cup of Coffee") mug, or, as I prefer to call it, my Sunday mug. I use it every Sunday when I drink coffee and read the paper. Mmm, coffee...

I'm such a jock.

2007-03-06T12:37:00.000-05:00

Before you know it, my neck will be as wide as my head! What a jock I am, indeed.

So, last week I had my annual doctor's appointment. My doctor noticed a little rash that had just popped up that very morning (I get so many rashes, it's really hard to keep track; maybe a rash-o-meter would help). She recommended that I get some Lotrimin, as the rash "looked angry." I made a mental note to blame the gross people at the gym who don't wipe off the equipment when they're done.

Today I stopped by Rite-Aid to pick up some Lotrimin. Imagine my horror when I saw this:
Note how your eyes are drawn in by the arrows. How could you possibly ignore the pulsating nether regions? Oh how delighted I was to bring this package up to the counter. Do I have jock itch on my arm? "Does this really cure jock itch?" I wanted to ask the cashier, "because I've got a hell of an itch!"

To add to my joy, it is about 8 degrees outside. I did not want to leave my JOCK ITCH CREAM in the truck all day, as I worried that it would freeze, and then separate when it thawed. Isn't it good that I think about these things? Anyway, I didn't want to leave it out in the arctic tundra all day, so I brought it in to work with me. I have this fear that I'll have to go get something out of my bag, and my JOCK ITCH CREAM will fall out, for all to see.

It's not a trick, Michael. It's an ILLUSION!

2007-03-05T19:14:00.000-05:00

Sorry, I couldn't resist the Arrested Development reference.

I am a cheap do-it-yer-selfer. I also was tired of looking at the mess in my computer desk (not to be confused with my toaster desk, my stereo desk, or any other electronic type of desk). So, I bought some plexiglass down at the local glass shop. Did you know that if you sand plexiglass, it looks like frosted glass? And also, that you can make a big giant mess by sanding plexiglass? Oh, yes you can! The nice thing about plexiglass (aka Lexan) is that it is very lightweight, and you can drill though it. Can't say that for glass. Well, maybe you can say that, but you'd be lying.

Anyhow, I present to you the "before" picture:
Add a couple heavily sanded plexiglass doors (complete with equiangular spiral ventilation holes) and way-too-big hinges...
And voila!

Putting the Roll in Rock and Roll

2007-03-04T11:28:00.000-05:00

It's gone too far.
In case you weren't aware, I thought that I should alert you to the existence of the first (and I hope the last) iPod dock/toilet paper roll. So you can jam to tunes while you...you know.
I hope that this will fill the void in your life.

Photo Friday: Favorite Cleaning Product

2007-03-04T10:53:00.000-05:00

We have 3 cats and 2 dogs, so I do a lot of vacuuming. A few years back, we got one of those bagless Eureka filter vacs, thinking that bagless was good. Boy were we wrong. Most of the time I end up using an old Electrolux upright vac (with an easy-to-change bag), which used to be my grandmother's.

What's wrong with bagless vacs, you ask? They are new and shiny, so they must be sent straight from heaven, right? Wrong. They came to us from the depths of hell. You see, with my allergies, trying to empty the canister is bad news, so Brooke usually ends up doing it. She has to empty the canister. But wait, that's not all! She also had to pick the dust and crap off the filter. Apparently to get it all off, she goes to the edge of the property and bangs the filter against a tree. I did not know this, until recently.

I spotted footsteps leading from the woods (where she bangs the filter on a tree) to our trashcan (where she dumps the canister), and I was convinced that someone was coming from the woods to go through our trashcans in an attempt to steal our identity. I even called the local Sheriff's office (we don't got no po-lice here) to see if anyone else had reported footprints (it had just snowed) from the woods to their trashcans. I called Brooke at work to alert her to the situation. She was sufficiently freaked out until she remembered that it was HER footprints leading from the woods to our trashcan.

So you see, the moral of the story is that bagless vacs are bad news.

Get Fixed the Easy Way!

2007-02-22T12:50:00.000-05:00

I'm on a very weird mailing list. I get catalogs for stuff like this:

It's a replica of a pound of fat. How fun! I can also order pens that look just like hypodermic needles. I am so lucky to be on this list.

Today I got a medical book supply catalog. Did you know that there's a book called "Alarming Signs & Symptoms"? I can just picture someone with a giant, pulsating growth the size of a cantalope lying on an exam table while a very calm nurse checks this handy reference guide.
My favorite is "Cardiovascular Care Made Incredibly Easy." Not just easy, but incredibly easy. You know what shouldn't be oversimplified? Cardiovascular care. Now if I'm ever having chest pains, I'm going to have to ask if my doctor has read"Cardiovascular Care Made Incredibly Easy." If the answer is "yes," it might be time for a new doctor.

Photo Friday: Bad Hair

2007-02-17T15:59:00.000-05:00

When I saw this week's assignment, I didn't know where to begin. I've had so many bad hairstyles throughout the years; it's really hard to narrow it down. You see, I have naturally curly hair. And I grew up in the 80's. It was a powerful combination.

The picture to the right shows me in my Miami Vice phase. In the absence of a white blazer, a white button-down shirt would do the trick. The picture also features my toothpick bridge, which qualified me for the finals at the state Science Olympiad. I was soooo cool. My bridge could hold well more than the recommended one brick. Unfortunately the bridge itself was pretty heavy, which subtracted some points, and I lost, thus dashing my future as a structural engineer.

In the next picture, I was in the awkward regrowth phase after my "I want to be Annie Lennox, so I'm going to get a crewcut and dye my hair" episode. Perhaps in an act of revenge against my mother, my grandmother took me to get the crewcut, without my mother's knowledge. Not only did I have bad hair, I also sported bad earrings, bad clothes, and, apparently, a bad attitude. Outta my way, or I'll get all Material Girl on your ass! If that doesn't work, I'll bonk you on the head with my big pink earrings.

You Get More For Your Money With Peter Pan

2007-02-15T20:14:00.000-05:00

I was watching the news this evening and heard that Peter Pan is recalling a bunch of peanut butter for possible salmonella contamination. I checked our gargantuan 6-pound tub of peanut butter, only to find that we had one of the recalled batches! We buy the big tubs of peanut butter for the dogs (they get a sterilized bone with yogurt and peanut butter, frozen overnight, for a snack); thankfully they haven't gotten sick.

I went to the ConAgra website for more information, and found what could be seen as an unfortunate statement. Maybe you don't want to advertise yourself as "The Right Kind of Food Company" when you're issuing a News Release about salmonella contamination. But what do I know about timing?

Warming the Cockles of Your Heart, One Weird Card at a Time

2007-02-14T11:22:00.000-05:00

Surprise! I'm a giant mutant heart-head, and I want you to be my valentine!

To view this and other peculiar Valentine's cards of yesteryear, point your browser to Cap'n Wacky's Unfortunate Valentine's Card collection. I was alerted to this site by an otherwise non-creepy coworker.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll feel a little unsafe.

ps. Is that a nose or a pulmonary valve? So many questions...

Anna Nicole Smith Exclusive (or, Not Without My Uterus)

2007-02-14T09:09:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to let you all know that I am the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby.
Sure, all these other fellows "had relations" with her, but if seemingly everyone else can throw their hats in the ring, why can't I? Just because my uterus has provided me with an exceptionally low sperm count, I don't see why I should be excluded from the hoopla.

Also, on a semi-related note, I would like to put forth my very own conspiracy theory regarding Anna Nicole Smith's death. I figured someone would bring this up by now, but apparently it is my responsibility to waste valuable minutes thinking about this. Why has no one asked whether or not her death was related to Trimspa? I read that Trimspa has stopped listing ingredients on its bottles, instead opting for something vague like "our exclusive x32 formula."
I did find a listing of the ingredients, as many "health supplement" sites post it. You'd think someone might be looking to see if some of the ingredients might be harmful in large doses, or perhaps interact badly with certain prescription medications. However, I find that if a phrase is prefaced by "You'd think that..." -- whatever follows is sure to not happen. For example, we have Transitions lenses for our glasses. You'd think that they'd come up with something similar for car windsheilds. Or, we've known that fossil fuels are in limited supplies. You'd think that we'd be driving poop-powered cars by now. Again, I am left to waste valuable minutes solving the world's problems with nary a thank-you. You'd think that I'd have a nobel prize in crankiness by now.

Photo Friday: Your Favorite Place

2007-02-10T12:36:00.000-05:00

This week's Photo Friday theme is "Your Favorite Place." Or, in this case, my favorite place. This was a pretty easy one. Unlike my other Photo Friday posts, I did not, as you can see, take this picture (our Sony DSC-S45 would have to have one hell of a wide angle lens).

Maine is my favorite place. Conveniently, it's also where I live. Whenever we go somewhere (we rarely venture accross state lines), it's always great to drive across the bridge and see the "Welcome to Maine" sign.

Maine used to have this ridiculous sign for those exiting the state. It said "If your business were in Maine, you'd be home now." I understand the point behind it, but we used to joke that it said "If your business were in Maine, your business would be in Maine." Well, we thought it was funny, anyway...

We may have below-average incomes and high taxes, but it sure is pretty here! Plus, there are no billboards. Whenever I'm in a state that allows billboards, I'm always reminded of how glad I am that Maine's roadsides have trees, and not giant blinking advertisements. Ayuh.

The Beat Goes On...the Wall

2007-02-08T19:31:00.000-05:00

I thought I would share with you my recent decorating inspiration.
I love albums. Something about the sound of a record appeals to me. However, I do not have a record player. Next best thing to listening to albums? Looking at them.
Please note that the CD shelf is perfectly level. This was no easy task.

I wasn't excited about the proximity of the smoke detector (that's what the white thing is...it's not one of those children's records that you have to play on a special record player).

Brooke was at first a bit apprehensive about my placement of the albums, as they are not perfectly symmetrical. I like the lack of symmetry, and think she's okay with it now. I believe what completed the entire piece was the 45 of the Bee Gee's "Jive Talkin." Now we're talkin'.

From Sir with Love

2007-02-06T20:24:00.000-05:00

So, I went to a conference in Amherst, MA yesterday. I was driving home, and by around 6 pm I was feeling pretty hungry, so I stopped at one of those rest stop/service stations along the highway. Since I'd had a lot of water on the drive, I stopped in the bathroom to pee first. Exciting, no?

I exit the bathroom, which for most people doesn't cause much of a stir. But of course I am not most people. As I walked out the bathroom door, an older woman looked at me, stopped, and said, "oh!" -- and appeared startled. She looked at me, and looked at the "Women" sign on the bathroom door I had just exited. To her, it just didn't compute. Why was this man coming out of the women's room? What is this world coming to? I think she *may* have figured out that I wasn't a man, but she was still visibly startled.

If a short-haired lesbian is the scariest thing you run into at a roadside rest stop, you're not looking around enough.

State of the Unicorn. I mean Union.

2007-01-25T09:39:00.000-05:00

Well, yesterday I was too busy yammering on about my deceased fish that I forgot to post my Official Thoughts (tm) about Tuesday evening's State of the Union address. Unfortunately (or not), I fell asleep during the speech, so I can really only comment on about the first 30 minutes, which mostly consisted of the pomp and circumstance (what the hell does that mean, anyway) leading up to the speech.

I think more Americans would watch the State of the Union if it were treated like one of the many game shows. What's the game show with Howie "look ma, no hair!" Mandel and the briefcases? I think that members of congress should all be wearing little black dresses (yes, I mean you, Ted Kennedy!) and holding briefcases. The president would have to pick a member of congress, who would open their briefcase. The briefcase would contain a topic on which the president must speak for a minimum of 2 minutes. There would also be a special elimination round wherein he would actually have to explain his positions.

My other idea was to have everyone wear those wigs, like in British Parliament.

Anyway, back to the speech. I was pleased that Bush didn't sound like a big arrogant prick this time (well, at least before I fell alseep). However, I really wish he would have had to elaborate on things. For example, he said we're supposed to cut our gas consumption by 20% in the next 10 years. Um, yeah. First of all, 20 percent over 10 years isn't very ambitious. And second, how flipping convenient to put forth a 10 year goal, when he's in office for another 2 years. Brilliant. Also, how does he propose we cut consumption? Is he going to even suggest that people not buy ugly hulking SUVs and actually walk somewhere instead of driving? I'd like to see that.

Did anyone else notice Dick Cheney looking under the table on more than one occasion? What the hell was under there? I was concerned that he was hiding a gun down there, and that he would use it to shoot Nancy Pelosi in the face. It's his M.O., don't you know?

He is Gone, but he is Not Gone

2007-01-24T11:31:00.000-05:00

Fabio Update:

Fabio is still dead (the fish... don't want to cause an internet ruckus by implying that Mr. "I can't believe it's not Botox" is dead).

The departure occured yesterday while I was out sick. My thoughtful coworker, who does not believe in flushing fish, presented me with an urn of sorts. Fabio is now a paperweight, sealed under some little colorful rocks. It's sweet and creepy, all at the same time.

The Big Fish Tank in the Sky

2007-01-24T09:56:00.000-05:00

I am sad to say that my wonderfully handsome office fish, Fabio, has passed on to more blue waters. He was a delightful fish, and will be missed!

Photo Friday: M

2007-01-19T09:52:00.000-05:00

M is for Maine

M is for Mackworth Island (in Maine)

And finally, M is for Mr. Creepy Chair (not in Maine)

I'll prove it like a theorem!

2007-01-15T10:37:00.000-05:00

I know it is sad to be quoting an episode of "Friends" in my subject line. Don't worry, it's about to get weirder.

First, I will note that I am fully aware that what I am about to say reeks of being one mouse click away from crazy. Read on and you'll see why that sentence was funny.

As I've noted in the past, we've had a mouse visitor or two. I don't have anything personal against mice. I just want them out of my house. This provides a dilemma. As a vegetarian, I try to keep the animal killing to an absolute minimum. Now, if my cats kill the mouse, well, I can't be held responsible, as that's just nature taking its course.

Unfortunately, there seem to be some rather raucous mice that our cats haven't been able to exterminate. They've found their way into our suspended ceiling (we have a finished basement) and like to make a racket. So much so that we were certain there was a squirrel up there. Being the good doobie that I am, I put up a couple little Havahart traps... the little plastic ones where the mice get in, and then you go release them into the country. The problem is that we already are in the country, and I've got the distinct feeling (a theorem, if you will) that I'm releasing the same mice back into the woods outside our house. To prove my hypothesis (or dispute it, perhaps), I had to figure out a way to tell if I'm catching and releasing the same two mice.

My first idea was to spraypaint the mice. However, the headline "Local Woman Caught Spraypainting Mice; Local Authorities Puzzled" flashed before my eyes. Better keep that as a backup plan. Instead, we bought one of those little plastic gerbil cages and some wood shavings. Ah, you can see the crazy now, can't you, just over the horizon? The goal is to either (a) just catch two mice, or (b) catch more than two mice. Either way, we're taking them for a drive to the next town and dumping them in what I hope will be their new habitat.

You will note that the mice (only one is visible in the picture) have a very plush setup. Brooke was responsible for the water dish and the cardboard tube. I have explained to the little freeloaders that their stay here is limited, and they will NOT be pets. They are very cute, but I don't want their diseases, thankyouvery much.

Speaking of pets, our anxiety-ridden sweetheart, Lilah, is of course upset. She does not like precipitation. Or wind. Or any low-pressure system, really. You see, today, we are finally getting some snow here in Maine. Unimpressed by this return to normal weather, she has decided to ride this one out in the safety of the bathroom.

Photo Friday: L is for Late!

2007-01-12T09:57:00.000-05:00

L is for Ladybug...

L is for Let's Go Bowling

L could also be for the Leftover Mouse Head that I found downstairs this morning. Yes, I found the severed head of a mouse, courtesey of one of our cats. Happy Friday! As a special favor to you, I opted not to take a picture.

Don't be a Jerk(y)

2007-01-05T16:52:00.000-05:00

Well, this certainly changes everything!

Back in the days when I became a vegetarian, there were no veggie burgers. No Chick'N Tenders. No Veggie Crumbles. No BBQ "Riblets." No, my friends, we had to find our own damn protien. And we had to walk uphill both ways, of course.

Did you ever want to become a vegetarian, but just couldn't put down the Slim Jim (I suspect that there's not much actual meat in those things; I'm pretty sure they're pure asbestos and mercury), your time is now! The world has been blessed with Primal Strips, the vegan answer to Slim Jims. How long before they start showing up in the checkout aisle at your local convenience store?

2007: How you doin'?

2007-01-03T13:01:00.000-05:00

Now is the time to look back, bleary-eyed, at the past year. Here is my year in review:

Stuff that Didn't Suck:
1.After years of procrastination, finally came out to the rest of my family in Texas. I kind of assumed they knew I was a big 'mo, but taking the final step eluded me for quite some time.
2.Brooke's mom's cancer was declared gone.
3.Got Married (in Canada, eh?).
4.Jumped out of a plane. On purpose!
5. Coworker going through divorce, moved in with us for a month. Brought 4 cute weiner dogs (though for her, I think this would be filed under "Did Suck"). Got to know her better.

Stuff that Pretty Well Sucked
1. Had nose surgery. Wasn't the magical solution I'd hoped.
2. Brooke's mom's cancer wasn't really gone.
3. Marriage only recognized in Canada. Desire to move to Canada: zero.
4. Favoritest coworker left. Who will listen to me bitch now?

My Favorite Christmas Present

2007-01-03T12:54:00.000-05:00

Oh, sure, I could say "my health" or "family." But when you get this coffee for Christmas, how can you not be thankful?

A reLAXing Christmas

2006-12-29T15:43:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay in posting, but I've been busy re-enacting the Stations of the Cross in my front yard. By re-enacting stations of the cross, I of course mean loading sand tubes into my truck.

We spent the holiday visiting Brooke's mom and stepfather in Arizona (thanks for the tickets, Richard!). There's nothing quite like air travel to make me want to carry an electric cattle prod. How did we manage to invent air travel, yet some people can take 15 minutes getting their luggage out of the overhead compartment?

Anyhoo, this post will inevitably cross the line into Too Much Information. If you're not a fan of TMI, just stop now. Really.

So, you know how sometimes when you go on vacation, so does your regularity? You know what I mean. After 4 days of, let's say, lack of productivity from the colon region, I was not feeling so well. Brooke thought that if I took a stool softener, perhaps that would, shall we say, get the ball rolling. So she gave me some Dulcolax -- what she thought was a stool softener. I took the pill, and since I wasn't feeling so hot, I declined to join Brooke and her mom on an errand run. When she came back to find me in the fetal position on the guest bed, she said "I have something to tell you, and I don't think you're going to be happy." She proceeded to inform me that I had actually been given a laxative. Oh, that explained so much! Apparently it was a fast acting (and long lasting!) laxative. It all made so much sense now.

I have decided that my body is apparently only feels at home with my bathroom at home. If I travel, I will have to bring my own toilet. How long do you think it'll take me to get that out of the overhead compartment?

Double Feature Photo Friday

2006-12-29T13:58:00.000-05:00

A belated Photo Friday for J...
J is for Jalopy

K is for Kokadjo

Hello, My Name is Doofus.

2006-12-18T10:20:00.000-05:00

I'm really bad with names. I see someone, and I know they know me, and I can't remember their name. It's a problem for me. I can remember weird stuff, like so-and-so has a Linksys WRT54G router, but just don't expect me to remember their name.

Thus is my current dilemma (not to be confused with diorama). There's this woman who works in the next buidling over from me. Of course I do not know her name, but I probably should. She knows my name, or at least so I thought. Often times when I'm leaving work, she'll be outside smoking, and say "Hello, Sandy." My name is not Sandy. At first I didn't realize she was calling me Sandy. Once I noticed that she was calling me Sandy, I did not correct her. What would I say? "Um, I have absolutely no idea what your name is, but I can tell you that I'm not Sandy." So now I have put myself in the position of having to answer to "Sandy." She says "Hi Sandy," and I say "Hello." I suppose it could be worse; it's not like she's calling me "Burt."

Is there anyway to undo this? Or has it just gone too far?

Flannel-riffic

2006-12-16T16:51:00.000-05:00

Tula and Lilah have discovered flannel. It has become impossible to pry them from the futon.

Tula: I think the humans have known about flannel all along.
Lilah: WTF?

It's not such a small world, after all

2006-12-16T13:59:00.000-05:00

I really couldn't care less about professional sports. I don't read the sports section, I don't follow the Red Sox, I don't have any negative feelings towards the Yankees. I'd much rather play baseball than watch it on TV.

With that said, I will bring you today's Sports Update:

As you may have heard, the Red Sox have were courting, and have now finally begun a monogamous relationship with Daisuke Matsuzaka, who comes to Beantown from Japan. This completely blows my beliefs about Major League Baseball right out of the icy waters of the Atlantic.

You see, I just assumed that the Major League Baseball Commission, its players and fans included, had absolutely no idea that there was life outside the United States. I really thought that they operated under the assumption that the United States was just floating around in space, much like a trash bag in the wind. Why on Earth (haha) would I think this?

How else to explain that every year the World Series is held. This series is comprised of teams from the United States. That is all. How can it possibly be a World Series, when the rest of the world is not invited? Now that we've finally figured out that there is Life Outside These United States (not to be confused with "Life in these United States," which is of course a collection of heartwarming, often hilarious -- or so they tell us --anecdotes found in Readers Digest), perhaps one day we'll put the World in World Series.

Photo Friday: "i" is for....

2006-12-15T15:29:00.000-05:00

Integer

In Flight

Dear Craft Person

2006-12-12T20:25:00.000-05:00

Well, I survived my first craft fair. You know, it is damn near impossible to find a "Craft Fair Virgin" t-shirt these days. Why do you think that is? Perhaps I should make one. It would most certainly have an applique of some sort, and lots of glitter. Yes, that would be crafty indeed.

Anyhow. I won't say I had a fantastic time at the craft fair. I am not one for chatting up strangers; my face hurt from smiling all day. But it wasn't like someone was gouging my eyes out or anything, so it wasn't all bad.

The display turned out okay... I went for the industrial chic look. I built a frame, covered it with pegboard, and finished it with metal corners and upholstery nails. You can't tell from the picture, but the display rotates, thanks to a handy dandy lazy susan bearing. I also had two light switches (complete with an actual switch; I told one person that everytime they flipped the switch, somewhere in the building a light was going on and off) mounted on top of the display.

There was a fairly decent selection of plates, I think. One woman bought 6 plates, and I think she's going to order up some more. The John Deere plates were popular, and I had requests for black lab plates, as well as Red Sox plates.

I had this dream of selling all of the lightswitch plates, but of course that was just a dream. I would have been happy with selling 50, but I only managed to peddle about 30 of the things. I think that particular craft fair was perhaps not the best venue, and the fair was held on a weekday. Perhaps if I had some knit switchplates with doilies glued on, I would have fared better.

And thus ends this episode of Tales from the Craft Fair.

Sunday is the new Photo Friday

2006-12-10T18:19:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm a little late on my Photo Friday post. Sorry.

H is for Hay:

And How!

2006-12-05T09:37:00.000-05:00

I will have you know that I am going to resist wearing my "I am a Consumer Whore" T-shirt at the craft fair. I don't think you fully understand the sheer resistance this will require. For those of you who do not have the luxury of a weird little independent DVD rental store in your vicinity, I must tell you about one of my favorite DVDs, "Rejected." I can only tell you that it is weird and funny, and that it is 7 minutes long. Not only did we rent it, but Brooke got it for me for Christmas one year. It never ceases to make me laugh, or want to quote it ("now with 50% more sodium; sweet jesus!") Oh, it is so very strange. You should really buy it; you, too, can be a consumer whore.

Speaking of flagrant consumerism, my coworker called yesterday to alert me of an important situation. The situation, you see, was that there were some candy-cane striped Converse hitops on clearance at TJ Maxx. Being that I do not frequent the Maxx (get the Maxx for the Minimum at TJ Maxx!), I was glad for the tip. I ran out at lunchtime and procured the last pair of size 7 (Converse has unisex sizing, so while I'm really a size 9, I get to feel all petite and crap when buying Converse) Candy Cane Chuck Taylors. Normally I hate shopping, but do make an exception when it comes to candy cane Chucks on clearance. Now I must resist the urge to lick my shoes.

Is it Hot in Here, or is it Me?

2006-12-04T14:09:00.000-05:00

What I learned this Weekend
by Sarah

Yesterday I had the bright idea that I would try eating a hot chili pepper. You see, I have this plant at work. Let's call it Chili. Actually, maybe it should be Chili 2, in honor of Chili the dachshund. Anyway, Chili 2 has been bearing quite a lot of fruit, and I decided to pick off the chilis and grind them up for seasoning. But for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to eat one. A whole one. I can eat jalepenos, certainly this measly chili would be no match for me. Oh, I was so very wrong. There was so much burning, for a moment I thought perhaps I should coat the inside of my mouth with Preparation H. Instead I sucked on some ice cubes. I know that's not what you're supposed to do, that yogurt is better. However, I can't stand yogurt, and at least the ice numbed my mouth. Four ice cubes later, the burning had subsided to a tolerable level. "Remind me not to do that again," I said with my firebreath. I produced hot burps for the rest of the day, just as a gentle reminder.

Photo Friday: G is for ...

2006-12-01T09:58:00.000-05:00

G is for Green.

G is for Gayoland. No, that is not a cute term for Ogunquit, Maine. It is a type of coffee. I have no idea why it's called Gayoland.

Clearly I Have Lost My Mind

2006-11-29T12:22:00.000-05:00

Here's how it went down:

My coworker: You should sell your lightswitch plates at a craft fair.
Me: Okay!

You see, I make these delightful decorative lightswitch plates. My coworker saw them, and thought they would sell well at a craft fair. Who wouldn't want a chili pepper lightswitch plate? Or maybe a mod design? Or barnyard animals?

Somehow I thought this was a good idea, and signed up for the craft fair. What I did not realize was that (a) I would have to make a lot of lightswitch plates, and (b) that I would have to deal with people. Instead I thought, "hey, maybe I can make some extra money."

As a result, I have spent pretty much all of my spare time working on the lightswitch plates. Making them is not exactly rocket science, but it does take a bit of time, and involves several steps. In order to make this profitable, I set a goal of making 100 lightswitch plates by the day of the fair (December 8). I have since learned that making one or two for the house is much different than making 100. Anyhow, I should be able to meet that goal in the next day or so. Hooray!

The part that I'm a wee bit apprehensive about is the actual craft fair. There will be people there. If you know me, you will know that I am not a bubbly, outgoing person, and am not well versed in the ancient art of small talk. How will I do this? How exactly will I interact with people in a pleasant manner? Maybe I should do some role playing:

Scenario 1.
Shopper: Hello.
Me:

Scenario 2.
Shopper: Hello.
Me: Who the hell are you? Stop talking to me.

Scenario 3.
Shopper: Hello
Me: Hi.

Clearly this needs some work, but as you can see I've already made great improvements between Scenario 1 and 3.

Bratz Dolls Promote Marriage Equality

2006-11-27T12:51:00.000-05:00

Imagine my surprise when I came upon this ad in the recent Target flier. I was able to overlook my disdain for the egregious spelling offenses ("Bratz" and "Babyz" -- no wonder kidz kant spel) and bask in the glory of this milestone. Oh, sure, the makers of Bratz will tell you that this is indeed a government-sanctioned heterosexual couple. But anyone who looks at this will realize that it is a lesbian couple about to exchange vows.

They said Tinky Winky was gay. They said Spongebob was gay (why is that again?). But this Bratz couple brings new meaning to the term "baby butch." Or should it be "Butch Babyz"?

You know, I think I've had the haircut of the doll on the right.

Photo Friday: F is for Futon. And also Ford.

2006-11-25T18:13:00.000-05:00

Friends on a Futon.
Tula and Delilah share a moment:

Ford.
Muleshoe, Texas, 2005:

A Simple Game of Cat and Mouse

2006-11-22T10:09:00.000-05:00

You'd think that, as a vegetarian, I would have very minimal exposure to dead animals. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong. Somewhere in the house, I fear, lies the head of a dead mouse. Being that we live in Maine, and it's winter (though I'm still wearing short sleeves, as it's a balmy 40 degrees outside), it is that special season wherin mice find a way into the house. This is when our cats enter stage left, to give the moue its final curtain call. Though our cats are strictly indoor cats, they have not lost their finely tuned mouse hunting (and apparently, mouse-killing) skills.

Yesterday morning, I stumbled upon (not literally, thank goodness!) what I can only assume is an internal organ of a mouse. Now, I did pretty well in biology class, but without other organs attatched to the organ in question, I was unable to identify it. I am, it appears, better at biology when it is in context. For example: "Oh! That's the the liver; I know this because it's right above the stomach." Anyway, I was left to pick up the mystery organ, as well as what appeared to be a tail. Yep, lucky me.

Where is the rest of the mouse? That's what I'd like to know. Did they eat it? Did they actually eat the face???? Or is it somewhere, waiting for me to find it? Neither prospect is terribly appealing.

Who is responsible for this? I know it's not Shelly. She likes to keep her prizes intact. When I came home yesterday afternoon, there was a deceased mouse, all organs where they should be, waiting for me (she puts them where she knows they will be found; if Brooke is lucky enough to find one, she will come find me, as I am apparently on eternal Mouse Duty). I picked it up and apologized to it. I think she just looks at the mouse and it dies. Shelly, you see, has no soul.

Is it Ophelia? I don't know. She's not very bright. At all. However, she does love food, and I guess technically a mouse is food.

Or is it Java? It's hard to fathom, as I think eating a mouse would really take away from her routine of crying and sleeping.

I have grown tired of finding mice. Thankfully, it seems that after a few mice turn up dead, it seems to send a warning to the other mice that this is not mouse-friendly
territory. If only the mice could read, I'd post a tiny little mouse-sized sign outside, just to save them the trouble.

Michael Richards: If I Only Had a Brain

2006-11-21T10:28:00.000-05:00

So, I was driving into work this morning, listening to "Eye of the Tiger," and thought, "Boy, that Michael Richards sure is a doofus, and not in a fun-loving sort of way."

You have perhaps heard that Mr. Richards spewed forth racist comments after being heckled during his stand-up act. A real comedian would have said something funny and clever. Instead, Michael Richards said something hateful.

Richards later apologized, stating adamantly that he is not a racist. That left me to think (danger! Danger!). I don't think that a person can state with any authority whether or not they are racist. Their words and actions make that determination. So often, after someone says or does something racist, they try to wash it down by saying "but I'm not a racist." Methinks the mister doth protest too much.