Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Screaming at the Handicapped

I was already in a foul mood.

The backstory: I happen to live in a city where I still have to let a water meter reader into my house to read the meter and decide how much to bill me. Never mind that it's 2010 and it technology exists (and is cost effective) to allow the water department to install automatic meter reading equipment, or to even put the meters outside the house... I still have to let a meter reader into my house.

If I miss the meter guy (who of course only comes during the day when most people are at work) they leave a card in my door so I can take a self-read and phone it in. I missed the meter guy last week, so I jotted down the numbers on my meter and phoned it in.

When I called they let me know that I was slated for disconnection, not because my bill wasn't current, but because it had been too long since a meter reader had read my meter; I had done too many self-reads....

So I'm already seething that I have to wait around all day for this guy to show up, only because my democrat-controlled city can't afford to modernize.

The frontstory:

I was in my kitchen finishing up some dishes, hands dripping-wet and soapy, when meter boy arrives and rings my doorbell FIVE times in rapid succession. He waits all of two seconds, then rings it EIGHT more times, then immediately starts banging on the door like a cop with a search warrant... he must have banged 15 times. I was drying my hands off and, as the frantic pace of the banging and ringing continued, I started thinking that it wasn't the meter reader, perhaps it was a neighbor with some sort of emergency... the banging was at a frantic sort of "emergency" pace.

The offender waits a full five seconds, and starts with the ringing again as I'm making my way to the door, convinced I'm going to see one the the neighbor kids with his hair on fire or something. Instead, I clearly make out the silhouette of a city meter reader, still ringing away. I'm not sure how long he would have kept ringing, because somewhere around ring #12 I got to the door, flung the door open and yelled, "What the FUCK is your problem?!?! Easy on the doorbell, you MORON!"

He started to say something, holding up his stupid water badge, but I interrupted to say, "If you can hold your horses for a second, I'll put my dogs away so they don't bite your impatient ass!"

He muttered out an "Okaaaaay" in what I should have realized was a little bit more of a rainman tone than most people have in their voice, and I slammed the door in his face, put the dogs away, then went back to the door. I ripped the the door open, preparing to launch into another diatribe, and for the first time I looked the man squarely in the eyes to make sure I got my point about his doorbell manners across clearly...

This is when I noticed that the man I had been screaming at was about two IQ points above screaming "Frank and Beans!" and wearing his pants on backwards; which is to say that I realized I had been cussing and screaming at a clearly mentally handicapped man who was doing his best to make his way in a cold, mean world.

Yes, I am a colossal asshat.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

A convenient place to poop

You wouldn't think there would be anything so special about simply having a place to poop, but in my house it's a thing no longer taken for granted.

You see, seven months ago I started remodeling our main bathroom. Our secondary bathroom is in the basement two levels below the the main bathroom... so for seven months we've been running all the way to the basement every time nature called or it was time for a shower.

The reasons for the long remodel time are a combination of time, money, laziness, and incompetence (mine, as well as the people before me.) Last week I finally got a toilet in the new bathroom, with Nathaniel's help (he fit under the toilet much better than I did):



Never satisfied, my wife complained because there were not yet any lights in the bathroom. Apparently pooping by flashlight is as inconvenient as running all the way to the basement to poop.

So this week... we have lights:



We're getting there... with any luck, the vanity will be installed soon and the shower/tub surround will be tiled shortly thereafter.

Then I'm selling all my tools and moving to an apartment.

Friday, February 19, 2010

25 Things...

(I'm reposting this from when I started this little "25 thing" adventure because I realized that most people who wander onto Blootered will start reading here and go up from here, rather than backwards from November. Make sense?)

A year or so ago, one of those annoying little facebook trends went nuts, and everyone was posting "25 Random Things" about themselves. I didn't get into it then... But now, looking to get my creative writing juices flowing again, I think I'll give it a shot.

Due to my tendency to get a bit wordy, my plan is to post one "thing" every day or so until I'm done. (I'm sure that of the few people who read this, even fewer would have the interest to read all 25 items in one sitting.)

A few notes:

1. the things aren't really "random" at all. I'm not sure that a completely sane person is even capable of "randomly" accessing their brain. The items are pretty well thought out, and hopefully written well enough to keep your
attention.

B. The order the items appear in is random, at least as random as is possible in keeping with #1 above. Don't read anything into the order of my list. If an entry about "cheese" happens to be listed before "Jesus" that doesn't necessarily mean I worship cheese. (although friends who have seen me with a good slice of cheese may occasionally wonder.)

III. If it gets too sappy or personal for your tastes, screw off & get your own blog where you can write about your man-boobs or whatever interests you. This is my blog: If you don't like it, sue me. (You won't be the first.)

Quatro: You'll see in many of my posts that I'm a person of great internal contradiction. Don't leave comments pointing out my contradictions. Or do. I don't really care what you think, but I'd tremendously enjoy reading your thoughts.


Have a nice day ... I'm off to edit these 25 silly drafts.

#1

I've always enjoyed traveling and have hit all of the lower 48. (Which, as an aside, is a strange way to refer to Hawaii, which I believe is the "lowest" of all states in terms of latitude ... perhaps I should stick with "contiguous.") I very much want to travel the rest of the world at some point. Thus far in life my international experience has been limited to a cruise to the Bahamas, and a few trips to Canada. I'm quite jealous of my little brother, who has managed to visit every continent except Antarctica (so far.)

I'd love to be able to actually live in another country for a period of time; to be able really soak up a bit of the culture and thoroughly explore. For the most part, I want to visit some countries that probably aren't all on most people's standard "let's do Europe" package tour. I have no particular interest in seeing France or Spain or Italy, but I'd certainly go if the opportunity arose.

In no particular order, the countries I'd most like to visit are:

Ireland, Scotland, Japan, Russia & Ukraine, Israel, India, Nepal, Chile, and one of the Somethingistans. Not sure which one... but one of them. I'm sure there are other places I'd love to visit, but these top the list for now.

I doubt I'll ever make it to all the places on my list, but I'm determined that I'll at least bang one or two off before I myself bang off, so to speak.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

#2

I used to be a rock climber.

I think at this point in my life I'm pretty secure in using the words "used to." I'm too fat and out of practice to ever go back to that life again. Maybe.

I've climbed Devil's Tower, in the Needles/Black Hills near Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota, in Yosemite, in Colorado, and in bunches of gorges and crags here in the east.

Some of my favorite memories are of sun warmed granite, bloody knuckles, trusted partners, and near-paralyzing fear.

While talking about those days sometimes make me feel like the middle-aged washed up high school football player re-living his glory days long past his prime, one thing remains for me: Even if I never make it back there, I've done those things. Nothing can take that away.

Friday, January 22, 2010

#3

I'm a perpetual student, but I like it that way. I go to school for a few years, then take a few years off. I would, perhaps prefer a few less "off" years. Academics keeps the mind exercised and sharp. If I don't keep myself challenged intellectually, I end up with a lazy, slow brain.

And then I stop blogging. And no one wants that.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

#4

I detest laziness in others and in myself.

That said, I'm probably one of the laziest people I know.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

#5

I quite like beer.

Funny, I was never a drinker in my early years. I honestly didn't even have my first beer until I was well into my 21st year of life. Heineken at Applebees in Trotwood.

Beer is good.