Thursday, October 28, 2010

My Current Obsession With Weathersealing My House

I work in a hardware store, so I spend the majority of my days around various items for home improvement. Since starting my job about six months ago, I have learned basic (very basic) plumbing, what a chuck key is, and I am obsessed with weather sealing my house. I should probably explain a few things...

First off, anybody who has ever been inside my house knows that it is extremely cold. There are rumors that my house is on an Indian Burial Ground, thus why the temperature is always around ten degrees colder than everywhere else around us. Last year, when the Spring thaw came, driving down the street you could see everyone's lawn except my own, which was still covered in snow (and wouldn't melt for another week). Being a little guy, I hate the cold, as most little guys do.

I obviously wanted to do something about it, and you would to if you had to consider a coat as a piece of your pajamas. I'm constantly looking at the different products we have to make your home more energy efficient (and less cold). Double draft stops for doors, foam insulated pads for the inside of electrical outlets, plastic kits to stretch over the window, and I'm even thinking about getting a large insulated blanket to wrap around the hot water heater. This is insane!!! I should not be worried about the energy efficiency of my home, that's something my dad would worry about. I should be worried about the lack of pizza rolls in the freezer or how I'm going to sleep in my bed without having to actually clean all the crap off of it.

Six months ago if you would have asked me if I was concerned or thinking about weather sealing my house for the winter, I probably would have laughed. Now if you ask me, I would probably cry, because it's sad that I have enough time on my hands even working constantly to sit and think about stuff like this.

That's what the last six months have been like. I get spurts of energy where I suddenly become obsessed with 'fixing' something around the house because of something I saw while at work. I have still yet to re-caulk the bath tub. I was going to fix a hole in the drywall (so glad I talked myself out of that one), and made myself learn all the parts in the back of my toilet and how they function. I'm twenty years old, yet I think like a 47 year old South Warren handyman.

On a sidenote, everyone should learn about the back tank of their toilet if not the whole toilet. The toilet has to be one of the simplest things in the world, and pretty much anyone can fix a problem with it. Also, nine times out of ten if you're toilet is broke, you need a new flapper (write that down).

I had no idea how simple the mechanics of a toilet were, and upon learning the fundamentals of toilet repair, I became very angry at plumbers in general. I should open my own free lance part time back tank toilet repair company. All we'll do is fix things in the back tank of the toilet. When it comes to the bottom half of the toilet, that's when you can call a real plumber. Allport's Partial Toilet Repair Co. (we specialize in changing flappers). I think it's a very feasible plan.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

My (Favorite) Coffee Mug Is Broken

DISCLAIMER: The following post is me over-reacting to my coffee mug being broken.

In a matter of moments, my favorite coffee mug was broken. The handle was smashed into a million (actually three) pieces. Of course, I didn’t break it, I would never be so neglectful around my coffee mug. It was my mother who broke it while I was out of sight. I of course will be trying to repair it with some kind of crazy glue or epoxy. I would’ve started earlier, but I’m waiting until tomorrow when Employee Appreciation week begins at work and I get it real cheap. Sometimes you just gotta wait it out.

Of course though, I have tons of coffee mugs, all of which had they been broken instead, I would've said that they were my favorite. But they aren’t broken, so they aren’t my favorite, my favorite is the one that is broken, simply put.

She suggested that I use the cup as a pencil holder, and I calmly (furiously) rebutted “No! I have a place to put my pencils, I need a place to put my coffee!” and then she cried and I felt bad. (The following dialogue is not verbatim, and has been exaggerated immensely. Also, my mother did not cry.)

Having coffee in the morning, all I can feel is grief for that mug. Someone did mention to me that I could still drink coffee out of it, it was just the handle that was broken. After I broke both of that person's feet, I calmly told them "You can still walk, you're legs aren't broken, it's just your feet." If a person could drink coffee out of a mug without a handle, then they wouldn't make handles would they????

But, I can lament and rant about the architectural history of the coffee mug in it's many dynamics, and it's immense trials and tribulations over the years, but it won't fix my broken (favorite) coffee mug.

From what I can gather, something fell out of a cupboard and landed on the mug (which was in the sink), and of course the rest is history. Just like that, something falling from a high shelf completely shook and rocked my whole world, disturbing the very bedrock of my existence as it has never done before.

In all seriousness though, it would make a very handy pencil cup on the desk in my office... doesn't mean I will though.

Monday, October 18, 2010

A Brief Wonderous Journey Into The Eclectic (And Eccentric) Collection Of Stuff

I own a lot of stuff. Amongst all my stuff is some rather quirky items that I impulsively bought purely out of immaturity, nostalgia, or both. I thought that I would gather some of it together to illustrate just what kind of crap I just have laying around my room.


1. Those of you who are not familiar with Harry Belafonte would know him best as the guy who sings 'Day-O" from one of the greatest scenes in the movie Beetlejuice, where they dance around before mutant lobster hands attack them. (Sidenote: Those mutant lobster hands scared me alot when I was little)







2. This shirt, which proclaims 'Fooey On Fouts' regards current Warren Mayor Jim Fouts. I got this from somebody awhile ago, and it always makes me laugh. I have never worn it, it's way too big. It fits like a nightgown. It's sits in the back of my closet, and makes for a great conversation piece every now and then should the topic of Warren Politics come up (which it rarely does).






3. As the title suggests, this is indeed a book written by disgraced former Illinois Governor Rod Blagowhatever. (I know I could just look at the pic to learn the spelling). I didn't know there was something this man could be worst at then being governor, but there is, being a writer. Is it just me or does he kind of look like a Cabbage Patch doll??






4. One of my favorite things is B1. I used to have both of the Bananas In Pajamas, but somewhere along the way B2 got lost. Seriously, I am holding onto this for my children, and I hope they'll pass it along to their children as well.









5. This is of course an action figure of the popular host of HBO's 'Tales from the Crypt' The Cryptkeeper. He is of course donning a very elegant tuxedo, complete with tails. This was my favorite show when I was five years old. Why was a five year old allowed to watch Tales from the Crypt? Don't ask me, I don't know. BTW, I didn't know this, but Danny Elfman composed the theme music to the show. For those of you who aren't familiar with Danny Elfman, he's done the music in basically every Tim Burton movie.



6. This is the entire series of MGM Classic Horror Film Monsters plush collection. They are (from left to right) Dracula, The Phantom Of The Opera, Creature From The Black Lagoon, Frankenstein, Bride Of Frankenstein, The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, The Mummy, and The Wolfman. Six of them were easy to find in a dollar store. It would be three years before I would complete the collection. The Creature From The Black Lagoon was the hardest one to find. The Hunchback comes in a close second though.

Friday, October 15, 2010

A Post About Mom

A lot of people ask me how me and my siblings are so eccentric and quirky. Well, it's because of the larger than life character in our lives that we call 'mom' or when we're mad 'Linda'. I decided that I would like to just share a bit of the eccentricity that is my mother today.

First things first, she can't remember the first names of certain politicians (In 2004 she constantly referred to John Kerry as Bob Kerry) and at the moment she keeps calling Republican for Michigan Governor Rick Snyder, Tom. Such as "Jake, are you gonna vote for that Tom Snyder guy?"

She loves to share facts and stories about celebrities. Below is a list of statements she has made to me out of the blue:

"Did you know Tony Curtis and Robert Wagner both had sex with Yvonne De Carlo, the actress who played Lily Muenster?"

"Did you know that Judy Garland internal organs were rotting?"

"You know what I'm getting out of this book? Martha Stewart is a real bitch."

"Apparently Cary Grant was a huge homosexual even though he was married a few times"

"I just finished McKenzie Phillips' book... the word I wish to describe it as is debauchery"

"Pam Grier met John Lennon once, and thought he was a complete asshole"

My mother really likes all the aforementioned celebrities though.

She loves watching movies, all kinds of movies. It's strange to think that a person who cries every time they watch 'Terms Of Endearment' would also like the movie 'Smokin' Aces', and will often get Goodfellas and Casino mixed up, and just simply ask "Ok, which one is the one where Joe Pesci get's beat to death with a shovel and buried alive?" (That one is Casino by the way).

Anyone who knows my mom knows that she will slip in and out of accents throughout the day. One minute she'll be speaking normal, and then suddenly she becomes British, or Jewish, or her favorite, a tough ol' broad from the streets of Boston. But anytime she goes into an accent it always ends with the phrase "What are you trying to kill your poor mother over here?"

She also is addicted to sniffing candles. She's a good old fashion American candle sniffer. Can't walk past a candle without putting her nose to it. There could be a label that says "This candle smells like nothing" and she'll still sniff it to see what it smells like. She could do some real damage at a Yankee Candle.

So, basically what I'm saying is, if you think my being weird is a bad thing, you can blame my mother. If you think it's a good thing, you can thank her.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Singing and Dancing When Nobody's Around

Whenever I am the only person in my house, I really enjoy singing very loud and dancing like a complete idiot. I mean like a total and complete dork, I really get into it. I’m pretty sure my neighbors can hear me though. They’re probably just getting up and suddenly hear someone shouting the lyrics of Frank Valli’s ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ (A song I know all the words to thanks to the radio at work), always cracking at the high notes. I can just hear them talking to each other "What a jerk!" or "Will someone shut that kid up?" or "Do you hear that singing? It's probably coming from the only house on the street that isn't renting"

I have injured myself many, many times whilst dancing around my living room. I have hit my foot on the coffee table so many times, I really can’t feel pain in my right foot anymore. I’ve slipped and fell a few times trying to slide across the linoleum floor in the kitchen (I do that move mostly just after Christmas when I get new socks for presents) And one time I was dancing and ended up standing on the couch, and I just simply fell.

The shower of course is still the best place for singing. The acoustics of a bathroom plus the sound filter of running water is almost as good as Auto-Tune. I sound like hot shit when I sing in the shower. You ever notice how odd the combination of the bathroom and music is though? People love music in the bathroom. They'll sing the shower, get a shower radio, whistle on the toilet... something about bathrooms just brings the inner Mozart out in everyone. What's my favorite song to sing the shower? Surprisingly I love to sing a great oldie, Bobby Darin's 'Beyond The Sea'. I sing it more than anything else. I don't know why, I just always really liked it.

On the subject of music, Halloween is coming up, so the music has changed at work, and I can only guess that when I'm at work today, I'll only hear "The Timewarp" thirty times. And I'm pretty positive that should I be down an isolated aisle where I'm all alone, I will do The Timewarp every time.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Half Assing It


That's pretty much the work I've been doing around the house lately. Anytime I set to do something at home, I give it a lackluster, mediocre effort. I give it the so-called "community college' try. For example, yesterday I did a load of laundry, and at this moment I am still not done with it. I put a load in the washer around 3 pm yesterday, and completely forgot about it, so my clothes didn't go into the dryer until around 8 pm. I forgot about the dryer, and pulled my clothes out around 10: 30 pm. I folded them on the floor of my office, and there they are still sitting, at 5:01 pm the next day.

But they are just one mountain of incomplete work laying around the house with my stamp of approval all over it. There are books scattered all over the place that I took off the shelf, read the first three pages and got distracted by something else (probably TV or the internet).

My room itself has completely self destructed itself into a den of a crazed, rabid, fiend. There is just crap tossed all over the place. But the fact remains that I am just too damn tired to get anything done anymore. With all the clutter, mess, and complete disregard for the sanitary integrity of the dwelling, should one see the room without knowing who it belongs to, they would assume it would be either a madman just inches away from being the homeless guy at the car wash, or a drug addict who likes to read.
(DISCLAIMER: I am not inches away from being the crazy homeless guy at the car wash, nor am I drug addict who likes to read)

I will keep putting it off just like I have put off doing other things in my house. Things such as finding out how to fix that damn hole in the ceiling, recaulking the bath tub, or even finally getting around to picking up those branches I put in a pile behind my van when we had that fierce wind I don't know how long ago... oh, I should probably take the bottles back. They've been piling up in the garage for like the past three years.

Well, I am very happy to report that while I was taking a break from writing this entry, I successfully installed a new toilet seat in the bathroom. Of course it only took forty seconds, but nonetheless I completed something around the house! Having done that, I guess I can leave the mess in my room, the caulking in the bathtub, the bottles in the garage, and the large branches behind my van for awhile longer. Oh yeah, I'll probably leave that hole in the ceiling in the back hallway for now as well too. After all, there's only so much I can do in one day.

Monday, October 11, 2010

I Love My Uncool Slippers

I am a man of leisure. As one of those, I take great pride in having comfortable footwear. And nothing is more comfortable than my pair of slippers that I constantly wear around the house (See Figure 1.1). Outside of the shower, it’s been a long time since my bare feet have walked across any surface of the house. I purchased these slippers off a clearance rack at Target for about 3.99 about a year and a half ago, and it’s still one of the best deals I ever spent four dollars on. But I am aware of how ‘uncool’ I look in my slippers and socks. My feet look like they belong to a wimpy dad who carries a fanny pack full of things his wife doesn’t have room for in her purse. But I like looking ridiculous when I’m confined behind the drywall of my house. I like that I don’t have to worry about how I look. I'll admit that sometimes if I know I’m not leaving the house that day, I won’t bother changing my clothes. Some may say that’s disgusting, but they only say it because they’re guilty of doing the same thing and are too embarrassed to admit it.

Of course, there are rules to spending more than one day in the same clothes. First at the top of this very important, and hygienic list, is to always smell test. When you roll out of bed, and feel like scrubbing out, just take your index and thumb, and pinch the shirt you’re wearing right in the middle of the chest, and pull it up to your nose. Inhale. Eye’s watering?? Then I’m afraid you need to change, because you smell bad. You can only get away with staying in the same clothes if they don’t smell like they’ve been worn the previous day.

Location is also very important, where did you go in those clothes the previous day? Say for instance you spent yesterday working hard down at the Seaport loading mackerel into 50 gallon drums, you probably can’t wear that shirt a second day. But let’s say you just sat around and watched TV all day, maybe went to the grocery store for a quick second, then maybe you can get away with it.

Important: Never go to the same places or see the same people you saw yesterday. You will feel paranoid that they will realize you haven’t changed, and you’re paranoia is completely justified. They will notice, and they will be judging you, if only in their head, but still nonetheless judging you.

Also, it can never stretch more than one day. If you stay in the same clothes you slept in for the day, then you’re just ‘scrubbing out’ for the day, and everyone does that. If you go to bed that night in those clothes, wake up, and make another day of it, then you’re just being a scrub, and people don’t like that.

Tiny Pajamas and Doughnuts

I had not noticed until this morning, that a certain pair of pajama pants that I own are no longer fitting. Where they once dragged under the heels of my feet, now only resemble really comfortable capri pants. As I made the intrepid climb down off my bed (it sits a whopping 2 ft. 5 in off the ground) and walked to the bathroom, I felt a suddenly draft wrap around the tiny toothpicks that I call ankles. Looking down, I notice that these pajamas legs were leaving my ankles and a small part of my lower leg completely exposed. This was unexpected and prompted a debate that I still have not resolved. Am I growing or are these shrinking? I quickly checked the waistband to make sure that while I was sleeping it had not shifted North into Senior Citizen territory of resting around my belly button. Of course, the waistband was right where I had left last night.

For full disclosure though, I have not worn these pajama pants in many months, which leads me to wonder just exactly where in this pajama void they actually cease to stop fitting me? I may never have the right answers for this situation, but there is a glimmer of hope that keeps me wonder, am I finally growing?? Most people my age don't obsess over height as much I do, but they never had to grow facial hair in order to convince people they were old enough to work in a hardware store (and growing facial hair is not an easy task for me).

While I'm on the subject of work though, I have a bone to pick with the crew that was working at the Tim Horton's at 8 Mile and Mound at 5:30 in the morning yesterday. At the drive through I asked for a dozen doughnuts...little did I know that they had no intention of letting me pick those doughnuts. As I went to pay, he slid a box, full of random doughnuts that he had pick for me (which I suspect he was trying to get rid of the old stuff). Who does that? How can a place that advertises "We specialize in doughnuts" not let you pick your own doughnuts, but rather just grab a bunch of different doughnuts and send a person on their way? First thing I said was "I'm gonna need a lot more Boston Creams in there". The Boston Cream is the coveted 2nd place of all doughnuts, the Silver Medalist behind the Eclair, which is of course just a larger Boston Cream. "...and take that cruller out while you're at it." I firmly believe in a man's right to choose the doughnuts he eats. When it comes to doughnuts, I am one hundred percent pro-choice. I mean, seriously, who want s a plain doughnut if they're not on a hayride or an apple orchard? You want a plain doughnut? Get a 1960s Sci Fi ray gun that makes things bigger and aim it at a box of Cheerios...the rest of us will stick with our Boston Creams.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Mountain Dew, Facebook, C-SPAN

I would like to mention my utter dismay and so called "bummed outness" at the fact that I had to settle for a Mountain Dew: Livewire out of the cooler at work because we are out of Mountain Dew: Code Red right now.

First off, let's set down some universal truths: Code Red is delicious... Livewire sucks something awful, and that's not up for debate at all. Around 5:45 p.m., as I went on my fifteen minute break, I walked with a bit of a chipper swagger (almost a full dance) down the paint aisle to the front to get a Code Red that I had been daydreaming about (that's how exciting my daydreams are).

It just makes so much sense that it would be the only pop we DIDN'T have...everything else was stocked to the front, almost spilling out, but no Code Red anywhere. I muttered a quiet 'shit' under my breath and then I saw Livewire and almost puked in my mouth (I even might've actually puked in my mouth, or maybe it was just taste of Livewire).

Lately also, I've been spending too much time on Facebook. I will though be brave enough to admit that I am one of those douche bags who think that they have clever statuses. Sometimes I do write something that I think is really really funny, and nobody will like it, and I kinda go 'what the fuck, that was funny!'... i'm not saying it's right, i'm just being real with myself.

I've always had a hard time falling asleep...that was until I got hooked on a sedative called C-SPAN. Have you ever watched a House Subcommittee Hearing on Domestic Agricultural Quotas late at night? It takes five minutes before it just absolutely ravages your body and you fall into a deep sleep. It almost like Valium is being crumbled up and is being vented out through your televisions speakers when you listen to Rep. Bart Stupak (MI-1 D) talk about farmers in America. I'll wake up in the morning and see C-SPAN still on the TV, and I'll notice I'm still in my work clothes, my lights are still on, and there is a half eaten plate of food on my bed and remark 'wow, did that knock me out or what?"