afterglide

Witness to the shitness

2009-07-16T22:51:00.002-05:00

Peep it, ass hats. J. Dogg Bo Shagg heard your shrieking 999, and an ambulance with the steering wheel on the right side is on its way to run over your shrubs and gurney your fat fucking ass to the foot of my throne. But I won't be sitting in it 'cuz I prefer the ratty plaid couch at Trey Trey's. He's got an Xbox 360 and a sweet-ass collection of chrome-plated assault shotguns. While you're waiting for me to get home, help yourself to anything in the fridge, but stick to the side full of blood samples and unprepped taxidermy fixin's. You can pinch my road squirrel, but I'll beat you to death with your own ass if you touch my fat free strawberry yogurt. And when I stumble in the door covered in hot fudge and ostrich feathers, you better immediately drop trous 'cuz your treatment requires me to throw a hubcap and a leaking car battery up your pooper from across the room. And the only reason I didn't call it a puckered cock magnet instead of a pooper is 'cuz your motherfucking inbred breach baby is in the next room gnawing on a lamp cord. God damn, you make me sick. Now let's fuck.

I'm-a gonna be on th' teevee, ya'll!

2009-07-16T18:40:00.005-05:00

Some of you already know this since I've been tweeting about the whole process, but it's 99.99% certain that I will be the subject of an episode of a bathroom remodeling show that will air in February on a home improvement-themed cable network, (although the producers did say they've had the network unexpectedly air shows in as little as 2 months after taping). As for the missing 0.01% of certainty, I leave that out since there is always the slight chance they could change their mind, or they could shoot it and the network could shelve it (they said they've had that happen with a couple of episodes). Hopefully the condition of my bathroom and my sense of humor about the whole mess will make for good television though.

It all started a 2 weeks ago when I saw a notice posted online about the show looking for people in the Twin Cities area with nightmarish bathrooms. Mine, in its abandoned, half-finished state seemed like a perfect candidate, and I emailed them photos and a description of its woeful state that evening. The very next morning, a producer replied and wanted to set up a time to come to the house with a camcorder to shoot some video of me giving a tour of everything I love and hate about the bathroom. She also conducted an on-camera interview where she asked me questions about me, my personality, the projects I've already worked on around the house, my interests, and why I think I'd be a good candidate for the show. She said the higher-ups would watch the tape and decide if they wanted to move forward.

On Tuesday they emailed me, indicating they wanted to send the other producers over to talk to me and check the place out. I now realize they had already made their decision, but just wanted to see for themselves that the bathroom would work on-camera and would fit me and the host, camera guy, sound guy, and one other person. "So you could have up to 5 guys in your bathroom at once." I responded, "It wouldn't be the first time."

I'm going to end up tripling my original budget of $1,000 for the bathroom, but now it's looking like I'll be in this house a lot longer than I planned (the housing market, my budget, my sanity, and other reasons I won't get into factored into that decision). So I would like a cool, modern bathroom that I would like, not just cheap, generic cosmetic changes that would appeal to potential buyers. So I'll be contributing around $3,000, the show will kick in $2,000, and they also typically line up freebies from show sponsors. I might get something along the lines of a free vanity, new sinks (I'd be open to moving what I had previously installed to the basement bathroom), fixtures, tile, or decorations and accessories

If you're wondering why I don't just mention the name of the show, I figure I don't need to make the producers nervous about people googling for info about their show and running across my poop-laden, male shocker-inventing blog and Twitter account. At least not before the episode is in the can. Get it? In the can? Oh my, I'm marvelous!

Patent application - male shocker device

2009-07-12T22:47:00.007-05:00

Abstract of the Disclosure

The male shocker device is designed to provide the male equivalent of a sexual maneuver known colloquially as "the shocker." By definition of function, the original version of the shocker can only be delivered to a female or transgendered individual retaining ownership of a vagina. The shocker involves insertion of the little, or "pinky" finger into the rectum, retraction of the ring, or fourth finger, against the hand, insertion of the middle finger and index finger into the vagina, with the thumb being left free to stimulate the clitoris.

The male shocker device allows the equivalent maneuver to be performed on a male or transgendered individual retaining ownership of a penis. The male shocker (Fig. 32) involves insertion of the little, or "pinky" finger (323) into the rectum, wrapping the ring, middle, and index fingers (322) tightly around the shaft of the penis, with a partially straightened paper clip firmly attached to the thumb (321). While the pinky finger is moved around in the rectum, the ring, middle, and index fingers retain the grip on the shaft, moving up and down and/or squeezing the shaft as deemed desirable by the recipient. The straightened portion of the paper clip is inserted into the male's urethra, and the thumb is moved in a manner such that the paper clip is moved in and out of or simply moved around inside the penis. This double insertion spanning the taint, sack, and shaft, and the object poking around carelessly in the penis, replicates for the male the awful, mind-blowingly ham-fisted sexual technique that is the shocker.

afterglide.com throws hat in Minnesota governor's race

2009-07-07T10:20:00.002-05:00

afterglide.com, the website itself, not its author, has announced he is running for governor of the state of Minnesota in 2010. Mr .com indicated he will be running with the support of the CPP. The CPP, or Coiled Penis Party, is not a political party, but a regular social gathering where all invitees are able to coil their penises at least four times around a hickory rocking chair once owned by Karl Malden. .com is not a member, saying, "I could only get it around a couple of times, but that was then -- it's penis under the coffee table. They are actually the ones who approached me about entering the race."

afterglide.com is seen as a long shot, particularly given his track record of generating controversy. In recent years, he has claimed he was an "unknown burglar" in the 1972 break-in at the Democratic National Committee headquarters at the Watergate Office complex and managed to escape before his cohorts were arrested. In December, 2008, .com sparked outrage with a expletive-filled tirade laced with racial and homophobic slurs during a curiously unedited guest appearance on Sesame Street.

When Jeremy Gibbens, a frequent contributor to afterglide.com, was reached for comment, he read a prepared statement and would not take further questions. "I do not support afterglide.com's candidacy for the office of governor of Minnesota. The withering of our business relationship in recent months has been well-documented by the media. While I will not air the details of our private grievances, I can tell you that I do not support his political ideologies, his narrow social views, or not taking his medication. I do hope one day -- perhaps very soon -- to mend our fences enough that I can write about poop on him again. Or actually poop on him. I refuse to believe the good times are gone."

A conversation with my brother

2009-07-06T20:42:00.005-05:00

I suppose a little background is necessary for this one. My brother and his wife (who are expecting a baby in December!) moved out to Philadelphia in January, 2008. Initially they rented an apartment and didn't have room for all of their stuff, so they kept quite a few things in my house, including a dining room set, china buffet, lots of lawn furniture, and multiple other items. This ended up being a blessing because their stuff was much nicer than mine. How convenient for staging once I put it on the market. Then Troy said he was going to rent a trailer and pick up his stuff once he came back for a visit over the weekend of July 4th. Well, shit. Perfect timing. Oh well, it's his stuff, not mine.

However, it ended up being a non-issue because after mulling it over the last week or so, last night I decided once and for all that I'm significantly slowing down the remodel project and will wait until next spring or whenever the house is damn well ready to put the house on the market. The stress was just too much, and it just isn't worth killing myself over it.

After I returned from a trip to ND for my 15 year high school class reunion and a huge Gibbens family reunion, I noticed Troy's grill sitting in my back yard and texted him. This is the screen shot from my phone (screenshots are another nifty built in feature on the Palm Pre).

Pork chop sandwiches

2009-07-01T16:08:00.002-05:00

Oh shit! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!

Giving back

2009-06-29T14:39:00.001-05:00

I have decided that when buying items from the cafeteria style vending machine that I must leave something in its place.

Those are strange destinations

2009-06-27T17:18:00.001-05:00

For the last time already!

2009-06-22T19:01:00.001-05:00

Mom, dad, please sit down. I SAID SIT DOWN! Why you gotta make me angry like that? Angry like a puckered asshole full of Tobasco sauce. Is that how you want me? All dripping with vinegary leakage? And in case you're wondering, it's Chipotle flavored Tobasco. I prefer original, but the anger fills you up with whatever's on hand.

Now that you're sitting down, Let me drop the shunt of revelation on your moistened cortex -- you can't move in with me. I know you haven't asked to move in with me, but I need to tell you that you can't. I have a very comfortable spare bedroom with clean, crisp sheets, but you can't stay with me and take refuge in that plushness. What? No, I KNOW -- I already told you that I realize that you haven't asked to move in with me. But it's still important for me to tell you that you can't under any circumstances move in, keep me company, and help me out with my bills. I forbid it! Even though there is a Murphy bed in the den that your frequent guests could use, IT IS NOT FOR THEM! Or you! Despite the convenience of having you around to help out with yard work and take care of my dog while I am away on my frequent business trips, you mustn't move in. No way, no how, no sireebob! Yes, that is a pile of freshly laundered fluffy towels monogrammed with your initials sitting on the end of that spare bed, but they are not for you! And I've left a bottle of scented oil in the night stand of the spare room, but you cannot use that to give each other erotic massages. And that copy of the Kama Sutra next to the oil isn't for your use, either. Now, see this spare key I'm leaving on the counter? This is just where I keep it. It's not for you. Now, I'm going to run to the store to pick up some Geritol and Ben Gay. Don't move in while I'm gone!

Ware is Ang? Tired uv ur crap.

2009-06-11T22:52:00.003-05:00

Taken with the camera and flash on my fancy schmancy new Palm Pre. Preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I am finally part of the touchscreen smartphone crowd. But I'm still not cool. Dang.

George Washington, Ray Romano, Ronald Reagan...

2009-06-05T17:58:00.001-05:00

Basement before and (almost) after

2009-06-01T10:22:00.003-05:00

The ceiling needs one more coat of paint, there are some spots that need touching up on the walls, the new carpet hasn't gone in yet, and I'm replacing the light fixtures, but I think aside from the kitchen, this is the most night and day transformation in the house to date. Thanks to Rich, Jen, Mary, and Connie for helping Ang and I knock this one out yesterday.

Before: dark paneling, poor lighting, and just plain shitty.

After: Bright white, and well-lit. Yeah, it's super god damn white, and I may put a splash of color on one of the walls, but check this shit out.

Of note: the bare bulb ceiling fixtures are temporary, as I mentioned. But the closer one in the photo was wired to a switch that you had to walk halfway into the basement to get to, and the far fixture was found tucked up into the joists (WTF??) when I tore the suspended ceiling out. It was not wired to any switch. It occurred to me that it made sense to have both lights wired to the basement entry switch that controlled the wall lights, and the time to do it was running out with the ceiling going in shortly. The hour or two of work it took was well worth the added light and added convenience. One more ponderous thing in the house unfuckified with a little thing called common sense.

Blogger's log, shit date 041.228^2

2009-05-22T12:34:00.001-05:00

Let's get you up to speed. The quicker we get this out of the way, the faster we can get back to stories about wind-whipped dumps in granaries, abandoned and otherwise. First, the house. The end remains in sight on the remodel. Carpet remains in only one bedroom, the one that serves as my office. The carpet has been ripped out of the basement, save for the stairs, and plywood has been laid down in the kitchen in preparation for the floor tile.

The basement ceiling is coming along. The contractor had it up Monday, taped and mudded Tuesday (there was a bit of drama as a result, which I will get to later), and was supposed to put the final coat of mud on yesterday and sand today, but the cool conditions in the basement prevented the first layer from drying sufficiently. So I gave him the OK to flip on all of the lights, set up a fan, and turn my heat back on. He'll finish the second coat today and sand it Tuesday.

Time is now running out, but if I had known how relatively inexpensive it was to have drywall work done, I would have ripped out the paneling in the basement a long time ago and had him do both the walls and ceilings. And I wouldn't have to do nearly as much prep work for the walls. Since the original basement ceiling was suspended panels, a lot of the electrical wiring, cable and phone lines, etc ran under the joists instead of through them or through the walls. I spent the equivalent of 2 or 3 days cutting small notches in the joists, moving the wiring into the notches or rerouting it through the walls, rewiring everything, covering the notches with nail plates (metal plates so one of the drywall guys wouldn't accidentally put a screw through an electrical wire and fill his britches with burned curry). Then there was hurrying to finish installing the downdraft vent in the kitchen island (I had to run duct work down from the cooktop, between the joists, and out to an end cap outside of the house), wiring in the 220v for the cooktop, and the 110v for the downdraft fan.

The worst though, was the tedious process of framing in the windows, any duct work hanging down below the joists, and in one room, just tacking 2x4s and 2x3s underneath the joists because there was just too damn much plumbing and other miscellanea to move in a reasonable amount of time. It was during this process that while drilling a screw into a 2x3, I hit a knot, the drill slipped and due to my ill-advised stance, it stabbed me in a finger on my left hand, deftly removing a chunk of fingernail from the base of my nail bed. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back and shook my hand up and down a couple of times. Unfortunately I didn't realize how badly I was bleeding, and this sent an arterial-like spray of blood up into the ceiling, and onto my shirt and face. I didn't care -- it hurt like a MOTHERFUCKER! My finger was throbbing, and the pain was that distinct kind, alternatingly excruciatingly sharp and bone-jarringly dull, yet deep, that made you see stars, get tunnel vision, and go right to the brink of passing out. I ran upstairs, crying out in pain, to rinse, wash, disinfect, and bandage the finger. Ang, of course, knew something was horribly wrong, and when I came out of the bathroom, she saw the spray of blood on my face and shirt. Even though I was in so much pain I thought I was going to vomit, I managed to spit out a truthful, "It's not as bad as it looks!" and collapsed on the couch choking back tears. She is not the panicky sort, but I felt I had to say something so she wouldn't think I'd cut off a finger with a saw or something.

As for the aforementioned drama with the drywall work. I am going to put that in a separate post, as this one is long enough.

Mystery looky loo

2009-05-22T12:31:00.001-05:00

For years, I have left a webcam running that is monitored by video motion detection software. If motion is detected, it not only saves the photos, but uploads them offsite and emails them to me, otherwise it doesn't do much good to save photos of an intruder only to have them steal the computer it's saved on. I was able to work from home Monday as drywall work was being done in my basement, but my boss was understandably not too keen on me being out of the office 4 days this week. So Tuesday I fired up the camera on the laptop in my bedroom, left a key in a lockbox so the mud and tape subcontractors could do their thing, and left for work. Around 11, I checked my email to find one from the webcam software sent around 10:15 am. Initially I wasn't too concerned, as false positives are common. Try as I might to adjust the sensitivity settings, it always can be set off by something like a sudden cloud darkening the room or moving shadows from the wind blowing a tree branch outside of the window. This time, however, there was an unfamiliar face in one of the photos. Son of a bitch! My heart jumped into my throat -- one of the mud guys appeared to be snooping around in my bedroom! I logged into the laptop remotely, reviewed the incident in its entirety, downloaded the video (I only had stills emailed to me), and called up the contractor to ask him why one of his subs was snooping around in my bedroom. He apologized, agreed that they had no business in there (in fact, the master bedroom is on the opposite side of the house from the entrance to the basement), and said he'd call them up to see what was going on over there.

Before I continue, I want to make it very clear that I am not accusing anyone of anything. I do not have evidence that anything was tampered with or stolen, and I am still open to the possibility, however remote, that there is a perfectly innocent explanation for this incident. But I am going to explain why the story given to me doesn't add up. If these guys can give me details that fill in or eliminate the discrepancies in their story (and doesn't open up a whole host of new discrepancies), I might feel differently. But because as far as I can tell, no overt crime was committed, and because the contractor who hired these subs has handled this situation so well, I feel no need to post clear photos or video of the person's face, nor to name the drywall contractor. Which is actually a shame because he himself is really a good guy, his rates are great, and he does quality work (so far, so good anyway). I don't want his name to be associated with this because of the actions of one bad (or possibly just misinformed or misguided) apple. End of disclaimer.

The video, as you can see, doesn't show anything being stolen or rifled through. In fact, he is in the room for only 10 seconds. But what upset me was that he did not just poke his head in the room for a curious peek or like he was looking for the bathroom. He was checking things out, and actually turned to his left, went over to where I had set my tool bag and belt, and looks everything over.

Later the contractor called me back and said what he was told is this -- one one of the subs misunderstood, went upstairs because he thought there was patch work to be done (there was never mention of any sort of patch work upstairs or down). He heard the camera clicking sound (I set the laptop up to make camera clicking sounds when motion was detected -- I would rather prevent the theft than have something stolen and have the police try to track them down), was worried, and went downstairs to tell his boss. His boss came back upstairs to look for the camera.

The more I think about it, and in reviewing the timestamps on the photos, the more that story smacks of BS. The contractor said he has been hiring these guys for years without any reports of theft, and I absolutely believe him 100%. However, I wonder if any of his other clients had web or other security cameras set up in their homes. Perhaps they took things that weren't noticed missing until months later, years later, or were never noticed, and the connection wasn't made to these guys. And the kicker is that the camera only captured one person. Not one guy, then later another. Considering the doorway was partially in frame, and considering how sensitive the motion detection software is, if someone was in that bedroom or just outside the door, their image would have been captured and uploaded. Not only that, but the supposed first guy hearing the camera clicking sounds, even by way of a shadow/light-induced false alarm, is disproven because the only images captured prior to the mystery dude meandering about my bedroom is of me leaving after turning on the camera to leave for work. And this will probably be impossible for you to see with his face blurred out, but the guy in the bedroom doesn't seem to be looking at the walls. He's looking down. Down where the "stuff" is. He looks into an open closet out of frame to the left, he seems to look at the bed, then as I mentioned, he then walked over near the other closet, and really gave a once over to the spot on the floor where my tool bag and tool belt would be. Then all of the sudden he appears to quickly exit the room, not once looking in the direction of the camera, the sound of which would have been very distinct. Perhaps that is the moment he finally made a connection on what those camera sounds could be and vamoosed.

So there is the harder evidence. Let's also look at the logic of that story. You're a foreman, supervisor, whatever, and your employee comes up to you and says, "Boss, I think accidentally set off a camera of some sort upstairs." Never mind whether what that employee was doing something legitimate or not, who goes upstairs and LOOKS FOR THE CAMERA!! Why risk setting it off again and having your own image captured? No, you either finish up the job and high tail it the fuck out of there, hoping there was no camera or no one sees the images, or you call up the contractor, explain what happened to him so he can try to mitigate any potential blowback from the homeowner. No, the contractor had to leave a voicemail for these guys and wait like 2 hours for them to call back, giving them plenty of time to concoct a story.

In either case, the contractor, completely unprompted by me, told me that these guys will not set foot in my house again, and that he would do that part of the job himself. He also said that if he were in my shoes, he would have been much less calm about it than I was. Honestly I restrained myself significantly because I very much wanted to believe that this was all a result of a misunderstanding. In fact, I still *want* to believe it's a misunderstanding. I want to assume the best of people, but it's nearly impossible when the facts in front of you don't make sense. Yet those facts are murky enough that I also feel a sense of guilt. What if this guy really didn't do anything wrong? Now he lost a few hours of work for himself and his crew.

No matter how you look at it, I am quite certain that this incident will change how these guys work when they are in someone's home. I guarantee you I will not be the last paranoid douchebag with a security camera they encounter. They will probably remember this and be wary as they move about the house, wondering if there is a camera watching them. There is. It's in the bathroom, and it's recording you while you poop. But not after you poop. I'm not a freak.

Big Boy

2009-05-19T14:06:00.001-05:00

Vending machine at work

Fucking around, I am not

2009-05-16T21:10:00.003-05:00

I can assure you. The tool belt proves it, and the tool wearing the belt lives it.

Re: Your Mom's Box

2009-05-10T22:08:00.000-05:00

Mr Gibbens, it has come to our attention that a large package from your mother was delivered to the front desk last Tuesday. We have attempted to reach you by phone numerous times, and have sent multiple emails requesting that you grab your mom's box, but you have not responded. If you do not attend to your mom's box within the next few days, we will have no choice -- for security reasons, we will be forced to open your mom's box to see what is inside. I'm certain you do not wish us to have our hands in your mom's box, and I trust that you will respond to this final notice in a timely manner to avoid this unpleasant scenario. Enclosed find a photograph of your mom's box.

Sincerely,

David Raunschueir,
Head of Building Security

P.S. Your mom's box is leaking a viscous fluid and is emitting a foul odor. Please hurry. This is a serious matter.

Afterglide charm school: how to lose friends and throw down the cluck

2009-05-08T11:18:00.001-05:00

Inspired by Bunny's recent incorporation of Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People into his life in an effort to be more charming, I have decided to do the exact opposite. I shall be a complete and unrepentant ass -- moreso. I will interrupt people in the denouement of their stories with skeptical questions. I will come to work in the morning, ask my coworkers how they are doing, and before they can finish their first sentence, wave my hands in front of my face and growl a disgusted status update of "Feign interest!" and walk away. Ang's attempts to initiate intimacy will be met with me immediately beating off and announcing, "No thanks, I'm done." And instead of a Mother's Day gift, my mom will open her local paper this weekend to find a planted fake obituary for me. So I hope you'll join me on this odyssey. I may not die alone, but dammit, folks'll wish I would.

Crack pipe, die and marble

2009-05-02T19:18:00.001-05:00

A still life

An apology to Tim F. (but not to Comcast... yet)

2009-05-01T09:23:00.003-05:00

As mentioned in an update to the previous post, Comcast actually did call me to schedule the appointment after reading my blog post. They could not show up during my recommended window ending with "suck my dick pm," but they showed up bright and early, shortly after 8 this morning. Tim, the guy who left the original door tag and note in my mailbox, as well as a followup tag with a tongue-in-cheek note that started "Yes, another blue tag with red arrow...," was one of the guys working on fixing the issue. I felt more than a little sheepish since he and his note got caught up in my carpet bomb of rage that was the previous post. I apologized to him profusely, particularly since I was concerned that he may have got into hot water over the whole thing (he didn't). I explained that it was the customer service rep unceremoniously putting me on hold that set me off. He seemed to have a good sense of humor about the whole thing. I learned that I am quite the talk of the local Comcast office, and that my post directed him to visit Twitter for the first time. And while neither of the guys said it outright, I have a feeling that my account probably now has a note on it labeling me a "sensitive customer." At least that's our code word for assholes where I work.

So Tim, thanks for being a good sport, and thanks for not sticking tiny pins in my cable lines for revenge.

Humility,

-J. Swiggity Q. Afterglide Gibbens, I

P.S. Don't think this means I'll start thinking before I post. That would ruin the fun.

Comcast and the mysterious blue note

2009-04-28T21:20:00.005-05:00

Today I came home, checked my mail, and like most days, found nothing but ads and flyers. I was throwing it all away when this blue door hanger from Comcast caught my eye, barely saving itself from being dumped in the trash can.

During recent routine maintenance work in your neighborhood our technicians detected cable television signals inadvertently coming from your home. This is typically caused by poor cable connections and/or cable wiring. This condition may also be causing reception problems on some or all of your cable channels and may cause interference to local radio frequencies.

The Federal Communications Commission requires us to monitor our network signals and repair any discrepancies.

Please call us at 651-222-3333 to set up an appointment for a technician to visit your home and make the necessary repairs as soon as possible. We offer two-hour time window appointments and On-Time Guarantee. If we are not at your scheduled appointment within the allotted time we will credit your account $20.

Thank you for being a Comcast customer.

Note the red arrow indicating I should turn it over. Alrighty.

Tech ops -
rogue carrier @
25 MHZ.
Please call 755 2389
when removing(???) pad
Thx

Uhhh... yeah, Comcast tech. What the fuck is that? Is that for me? Am I supposed to remove a pad, insert a tampon? Keep this note to give to the tech who shows up to make the repair? Tell the support rep on the phone? A little context and direction would be nice. Thx

So being a law-abiding citizen wanting to keep in compliance with FCC regulations (or rather a guy whose curiosity as been irreversibly piqued), I called Comcast, waded through their menu system, and waited on hold for a few moments before I was patched through to a rep. I explained the note to her, and she said outright that she'd never heard of anything like that. "I'm going to have to look into that." Followed by several minutes of alternating silence and keyboard clacking. I was about to ask if she'd found anything when I was unceremoniously dumped on hold without any announcement. That was all I needed. Fuck this. End of call.

Comcast, you leave a note in my mailbox (keep in mind that putting unstamped material in a mailbox is illegal), asking me to call you to set up an appointment to fix an issue you detected. An appointment where I'll have to sit around my fucking house for who knows how long waiting for the truck to show up. And what if it's something with the wiring inside my house? Are you going to charge me to fix it? I dutifully call, waste several minutes listing to someone typing, and then am rudely put on hold without warning. Fuck you, Comcast. If you want to fix your shit, you call me, and I'll give you a window of time when I'm available -- 9 am to suck my dick pm.

UPDATE: At least my notice wasn't as draconian as this one.

UPDATE #2: Wednesday -- I'm not terribly surprised, as Comcast has a reputation for monitoring Twitter and blog activity for mentions of their name, but believe it or not, they did call me to schedule that repair appointment. And based on the apologetic tone of the call and specific details of my concerns mentioned by the rep, they read this blog post specifically. Color me equally impressed and creeped out.

Gridless

2009-04-23T15:48:00.001-05:00

If you're a regular reader, given my drastic drop in posting volume the last few months, you're a member of a likely dwindling population. I've apologized for this before, so there will be no more of that. I'm currently racing to get my house ready to put on the market by the end of May, so expect an even stingier trickle of mediocre posts sent from my cell phone, pulled out of my ass, or both. I won't be off the grid so much as hovering near it, crying and wetting myself. If you are a glutton for my foolishness, I still post to Twitter on a near-daily basis. Odds are good I tweeted with a hammer in one hand and my dick in the other. Not that there is much of a distinction between the two.

Kitchen island

2009-04-20T06:41:00.002-05:00

It took four people (Rich, Jen, Ranty, and myself) to lift the granite onto the island cabinet. And yes, there is additional support under the portion hanging over the back.

The cooktop and downdraft fan will go in sometime this week.

Somebody really loves sour cream

2009-04-17T07:42:00.004-05:00

Mmmmm... This sour cream is fucking delicious. Oh crap. I better get going or I will miss the bus and be late for work again. But I am enjoying this sour cream far too much to walk away from it. Hey! I can bring it with and continue to eat on the way to the bus stop... Ok that is the last of the sour cream. I really don't want to bring this on the bus so I think I'll just set it and the spoon right here in front of the empty business next door to The Strip Club.

Shop on for some reason space line

2009-04-16T13:35:00.003-05:00

Home Depot, Burnsville