Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Bovine + Flour = Miet Mache

Fine readers, I'll have you know that I prepared my taxes evening last. It took me about 2.5 hours, and the cats seemed to understand my need to remain undisturbed. Usually, when I sit down that's an open invitation to my lap and whatever may or may not be on it; dinner, laptop, magazines, etc. Last night, the kittens were given strict instructions not to jump on my lap, and for the most part they followed them to a tee. Occasionally, their instincts had the better of them and they found themselves being thrust from my lap, but they seemed content to sit on the couch and snuggle with eachother. Ahh, kittens. So cute, yet occasionally so obnoxious.

After finishing my taxes, I treated Nano to a game of Blue Mouse. It's a very similar game to Green Mouse, with the only distinction being the color of the mouse. If you aren't familiar with Green/Blue Mouse, here are the rules... I throw the mouse in his vicinity, and he catches it. If I slide it along the floor, he bats it around until he reaches a wall. Traditionally, the game is closer to the canine sport of "fetch", but now that Nano's reached the ripe old age of 5, he is no longer interested in returning the mouse to me. But I'll be damned if I can get the mouse past him. You might almost describe his reflexes as "catlike". And the pride he takes in catching (literally) the mouse out of the air, I can only assume, is equivalent to a parent watching his/her child win an Olympic event. [Tear]

As I lay in bed last night, circa 10:00 in the PM, I was awoken by the thought that I had to make my breakfasts for the rest of the week. I dragged myself downstairs and put together my oatbran/strawberry/flax seed/butter/water/honey concoction. Done!

Shit, I also wanted to make beef stew for dinner tonight. Knowing how angry Morning Coot would be with that lazy son-of-a-bitch Evening Coot, I conceded and set to work preparing all of the ingredients. The bonus here was that I got to put my kickass Wusthof knife to work. That thing will cut your whole arm off if you aren't careful.

I chopped and I chopped and I chopped some more until I had three bowls of meat and veggies assembled. I coated the meat cubes in a flour mixture per the recipe and put everything in the fridge.


Some of you might recall a little arts and crafts project commonly known as Papier Mache. Well, I made Miet Mache (French for Meat Mache) as the flour mixture formed a nice tight bond between the cubes of deceased bovine. This was certain to make one terrible stew, so I had to painstakingly separate each cube from the pack. An inconvenience sure, but when Afterwork Coot is enjoying his stew, it won't seem so bad that Morning Coot had to do all of that work.

Sniff, sniff. Yup, that stew is going to be delicious.

I must bid you adieu whilst I begin digesting a delicious grilled reuben sandwich.

Over and out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Sunday, February 26, 2006

It was all about barking dogs

Kind readers, I'm going to regale you with tales of the unbelievable. They may be slightly exaggerated, but are based 100% in reality.

Yesterday morning was a nice early morning trail run. We hit up some trails in Pittsfield State Forest for a few hours. It was roughly 15 degrees (Fahrenheit) and snowing, perfect. Actually, by the end I was soaking in my own sweat, so it really was about right.

After 2 hours in the woods, I was ready for a nice hot shower. The nasty blisters on my toes were worse after the run than they were before, strangely enough. I decided maybe next time I'd have to forgo the wool socks for something thinner the next time.

Next was breakfast; some steel cut oats hit the SPOT. I even threw some banana slices and strawberries in there for an extra health boost.

Once I was clean and fed, it was time to round up my tax information. Per my mental schedule, I was supposed to do my taxes yesterday but I don't like stressing myself out too much if I don't have to, so instead I built a fire and watched Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Plus I made corned beef and cabbage (and potatoes and carrots and onions). The veggies were great, the meat sucked. It was easily 75% fat!

This morning I awoke, dressed and headed out to L-to-the-anesboro for another run in the woods. Fear not faithful readers, it wasn't 15 and snowy today. It was 7 and windy. Once the blood warmed up my extremities I was in business. I even got to see a coyote den (minus the coyotes) and heard story after story of all of the dangerous wildlife in this particular series of trails. This was enough to keep my eyes peeled for danger.

DANGER! After passing a farmhouse, we were chased by three HUGE dogs. Now, the conventional approach to dogs is to stop, look them in the eye and yell "STOP". When our leader booked ass I followed suit. I hated to leave the woman behind, but in a life or death situation like that you don't have to outrun the dogs, you just can't be the slowest person. My afterburners kicked in and I was GONE.

Well, the woman followed conventional wisdom and stopped the dogs from chasing. She waved goodbye to them followed by "Goodbye puppies". Man did I feel like a heel, an alive heel, but a heel nonetheless. I promised I'd embellish this story with something about bears, but I just can't mislead my readers.

Today's run was another 2 hour jobber and my dogs were BARKING, yo. Soaked to the bone, they were cold, tired, blistered and ready for a rest. All I could think about was breakfast and coffee. I headed home to get out of my soaking wet clothes (damn I'm a sweaty bastard).

Ahh, home at last. When I walked in, I remembered that the sink stopped draining last night. I had put some drain clearing enzymes down the drain last night to clear the clog naturally. That didn't work so I knew I was in for a fun time. I was going to have to open the cleanouts in the basement and snake the drain. If you've never done this, it typically involves dumping disgusting water all over your person and a whole lot of swearing. I made sure to hit both of these points early on so I could get on with the repair.

I only had to try two cleanouts before I hit the clog. A couple of cranks on the snake (get your mind out of the gutter) and I busted threw. I put the plug back on the cleanout and tested the drain. Everything went down nicely, so I cleaned up and had some eggs.

Well, that's plenty for all of you. It's time for you to get back to your own lives. I'll holler at you tomorrow.

Over and Out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Friday, February 24, 2006

3 Nipples = 1.5 boob-persons

Friday was a fantastic day in the world of electrical engineering. I can't believe I get paid to do what I do; listen to this... today I updated several spreadsheets AND a couple of powerpoint presentations. Viewgraph engineering at its finest. I admit, I did look at a few drawings and datasheets, but it was primarily spreadsheets and viewgraphs.

But for real, it sucked. Then after work I went out to a Polynesian restaurant for dinner with a few chums. Originally it was supposed to be The 99, but the wait was outrageous. So we hit up Luau Hale, a fine Polynesian eatery. The food was fantastic, and the service great as well. Plus the waitress was nice looking, always a bonus.

As we enjoyed our fortune cookies, HECOW was a little distracted. He finished his cookie, but alas could not find his fortune. A quick eye-scouring of the table, then "Hey, where'd my fortune go? Did I just eat it?"

We never found his fortune. Not a good sign, HECOW.

After dinner was cards and a flick. Looking for a light comedy, we opted for American Pie: Band Camp. Note to the gentlemen, the intro gives you all of the important visuals, so just put it on and enjoy. There are boobs aplenty.

After watching the "Band Camp" movie, it was unanimous that there should be a boob/minute rating on movies. After a few scenes, we thought maybe the boob count should be normalized to a unit of measurement coined "boob-persons". For example, in one scene there were three girls showering, but only 3 full boobs (nipple in view), normalizing that to two boobs per person, that scene would have a rating of 1.5 boob-persons. This act of nerdizing was much to the disapproval of ECOW, but she was outnumbered.

So that was that. Being the pansies that we are, 11:30 was about it for the night. I had to get up early for a run in the woods so I was glad to call it.

Over and out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

What's yo hat sayin?

I'm not one to be up on technology. I'm the guy waiting for that new-new shit to come out so I can buy the old-old shit offa someone else at a disCOUNT. This time, I bought myself the older model of a digital camera to replace the one I had before. My old camera decided it was only going to take 2-3 pictures per charge of the batteries, if that. I called for help before I trashed the old camera. Here's a transcript of my conversation with the good people at HP technical support...

Tech Dude (TD): Hi, thank you for calling HP tech support. How can I help you?
Me: Hey man, what's up? Yeah, I have the M305 camera with the docking station. It doesn't seem to be taking a charge though. It either freezes up on me or if I'm lucky, it'll take 2-3 pictures then freeze up.
TD: Have you tried recharging the batteries?
Me (in my head): Oh shit! You have to charge them too? My bad.
Me (for real): Yeah, I left them on the charger overnight. The camera doesn't recognize the batteries. I even charged them in another charger. Then I tried regular alkalines in it and it still doesn't work.
TD: What I'm going to do is have you reformat the camera (then tells me how to do it).
Me: Yeah, I tried that too. Didn't work. I was thinking maybe it had something to do the latest firmware upgrade. It was right around the time I upgraded it that it stopped working.
TD (sensing maybe I'm not an idiot): Oh, hmm. There's a firmware upgrade that corrects some of the power issues.
Me (sensing he's not listening to my whole response): Yeah, I just updated it. I put in v1.7.
TD (he's locked on to the word firmware and he's not letting go): Okay, I'm going to have you try to upgrade the firmware. You can check it online, if you don't have v1.7 you'll have to upgrade it. That should solve your problem. Anything else I can help you with?
Me: Yeah, I just told you that I upgraded it to v1.7, even the camera's help menu says it has 1.7 installed.
TD: Oh. That didn't work?
Me: No, that's why I'm calling.
TD: You can send it in for service, but it's probably going to run you about $75 plus shipping. That's our flat rate for service.
Me: Uhh, hmm. I don't think I'm going to do that.
TD: No, I'd just get a new camera if I were you.
Me: Okay, well thanks for helping.
TD: Is there anything I can help you with today?

He didn't even help me with the one problem I had. I'll tell you what, there was no way I was going to buy another HP if the service guy tells me they can't fix my firmware problem and I have to buy a new camera.

Anyways, I bought myself a new camera about a week ago. I got the same one my sister has, she's been raving about it. I even went out and bought the highest capacity batteries I could find so they'd last as long as possible. I'm talking Nickel Metal Hydride 2500mAH jobbers. What WHAT!?!

After the first charge, they lasted a few days which included a lot of pictures, a few movies, uploading to the PC, etc. It seemed quick, but I was okay with it. Another overnight charge and I was back in business.

Last night I busted out the A-camera to snap some hot photos at my friend's house. I even shot a little 10 second video to play around with that. The next thing I know it's telling me to replace the batteries, then it shuts off. What the fuck? I took all of 10 pictures and one short video (on the lowest resolution, mind you) before the effin batteries died. I threw them back in the charger last night and the fuckers better work TO-DAY!

BUT, today is Friday. I just got paid. I'm bout to do my taxes this weekend (and subsequently get me some dividayunds). Plus I think I might treat myself to a new hat. Now that my head isn't as rotund as it once was, I can sport hats. I thought about a nice Red Sox hat, not because I'm a fan (I hate baseball) or because that's what all the rap stars are wearing these day (they're not), but because it would be my quiet way of mocking the Yankees fans at work.

Or maybe a nice mesh/foam one with some catchy saying on it. Plus urrtime I leave the house I can think to myself "Boy, throw a hat on that weave".

Back to building bombs for WWIII,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Some guys are so nasty

As I sidled up to Urinal #1 in the men's room yesterday, I was able to overlook the pile of pubes on the edge that builds up over the course of the day, but what really grossed me out was the puddle on the floor. I thought maybe someone spilled some water or his shoes were wet, but today as I waltzed up to - and subsequently past - Urinal #1, I noticed the same puddle. Ewww.

Whizzing in a toilet has it's challenges, I'll admit. You have the obvious crooked stream that needs adjustment from the getgo. Then you have the occasional spray pattern difficulties, variations in temperature (pool and wind related), time of day and so on. Even hitting the water will splash some, but hitting a urinal is second in ease only to peeing directly on the ground, with peeing on a tree at #3. Anyone who's ever tried to pee on the ground - male or female - knows how easy this is, and even #3 doesn't even offer much of a challenge. So when I see that presumably more than one guy has somehow missed the urinal, I have cause for concern. Really, I'm not claiming to be John Holmes, how small do you have to be to not be able to reach the rim of the urinal. It even extends outwards to catch the "shake drops". If you can't hit that, you may want to have your chromosomes checked, ma'am.

Next on my list isn't so much gross as it is funny. We were discussing professional eaters, and it came up that one guy at 135 wings at Hooters during a training session. Of course he had to pull over on his way home to boot them up, but this got me thinking. To expand your stomach from something the size of a fist to something that can accomodate 135 chicken wings, it would have to be pretty damn close to paper thin. The convulsions that allow you to vomit must be dangerously close to tearing that thin membrane. We took it from there...

Imagine someone attempting to boot up 135 wings, and after the preliminary hoarks he realizes that nothings coming up. It turns out that his stomach has torn open and the wings have spilled into his abdomen. He decides to work the wings (using his hands as a squeegy) up his side to his chin, where he proceeds to pop the 135-chicken-wing-zit all over the mirror. Puh-ritty nasty.

So there you have it folks. Guys are nasty. But only some... I didn't pee all over the men's room floor, but I did help take a simple professional eating conversation to the next level.

I'll leave you with those tidbits of conversational jewelry.

Over and out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Samuel L Jackson

This is just a test to see if I can add youtube videos to my blog. If so, you guys are in for some real treats.

Yup, it works. I'm going to be adding little videos here and there to my blog just to keep everyone entertained. Pa-POW!

Now the jury selection skit...

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Too much poking makes for sloppy spackling

Hey e'erone. I know I started to holler at you about my kitchen projek last week, and I now have a nice place to store my pictures online so that I may discuss them more easily. You should keep in mind that I'm still developing the phototographer's eye so don't be critical. My mother and sister are the resident photographers, well as resident as they can be when they both live hours away in different directions. I guess this Instaweb really makes the world smaller (sigh).

Anyway, the following picture shows the great idea we had to find out where we could run wires for the light above the sink. We needed a "hand-hole" through which to grab the wire and make the turn down the wall. Since we couldn't get the wire all the way to the hand-hole, this was all for naught. However, it did teach me how not to patch a big hole in the ceiling. I'd also like to point out that the holes in the wall were the method we used to probe the wall for openings. As it turned out there is a heating duct behind that wall (oops).

My next shot was taken of the slab of plaster that came out of the wall where we cut the hole for the light switch. I thought it was especially difficult to cut, but I had never before cut plaster with a hand saw, so I didn't realize until I removed the inch-and-a-half-thick hunk of plaster from the wall. My first thought; "What the hell did they need to make the wall so thick for?" That question remains unanswered.

Once the cabinets were down and the electrical was run for the light/switch, I started skim-coating the wall to get rid of the pockmarked look. I always knew the wall was a little rough, but it wasn't until the new light illuminated the wall from the top that I realized how grotesque it really was. There was no way I was going to leave that unrepaired, so I got to skim-coating. Let the record show that I had never before used drywall mud, so I learnt as I went along. The first few coats were a little thick and a little sloppy, but this next picture is just nasty. How someone got grease stains that thick NEXT to the cabinet (between the side of the cabinet and the wall) I'll never know.

For the record, I studied the grease stains in search of images of Jesus or the Virgin Mary, but there were none.

Once the wall was skim coated about 3 times (maybe it was 4), I gave her a few coats of primer and things were really coming together. Check out the prime-job...

Finally, we were able to install the new cabinets whose former home was the living room. I would like you to understand that there are many steps in between painting the wall and hanging the cabinets, but through the miracle of TV I was able to jump right to the finale. So here's John giving the second cabinet his seal of approval...

Well, that's all I have for this entry. Perhaps later I can show you a few pics of the hutch turned microwave/toaster oven station. In my former life(style) this also served as the bar. Since the booze-shunning I have been using that space to store crap. After cleaning that up and installing an outlet, the bar/crap station has become home to the microwave and toaster oven (MW/TO), further improving the counterspace problem (there's barely any).

Well, I hope you've all enjoyed my little montage (sp?). I just realized there is another picture that shows how bad the wall was with one cabinet down. When I do my next segment on the MW/TO upgrade, I'll include that picture to really show how far the kitchen has come.

Over and out,

Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

When I cock back my lyrics, you punks best be ghost - Jeru tha Damaja

It's another blustery one in P-field. Not nearly the wind we had been experiencing, but cold nonetheless. Yesterday had the potential of being a real bust, but I was able to cash in some unpaid karma goodness and come out on top.

Yesterday was a holiday for most of the working Americans, but our customer doesn't subscribe to it and as a result I had to work. I thought about taking the day off anyways, I have myriad things to do at home, plus I'd like to sleep in a little. But being the dedicated employee that I am, I came in and really got some $hit done. I planned on leaving early to meet up with the Crazy Running Group for an afternooner in the woods, but that didn't happen (at least for me) which was kind of a bummer. I've been really enjoying the trail running as well as the company on such runs, and the prospect of running on the roads by myself turned my thoughts towards laundry and other inside homemakery.

Bummed as I was, I managed to get some good laundering done. The next thing I knew, I was cleaning the hell out of my bedroom (down to cleaning the hardwood floor). I rearranged my bedroom a little, but mostly restored it to its previous splendor, all as a result of one key revelation: NOBODY IS GOING TO LOOK AT THE FREAKING PAINT JOB ON THE SHOE MOULDING YOU INSTALLED, SO SHUT UP AND PUT THE DAMN ROOM BACK TOGETHER!

Once I had made that mental leap, my whole life realigned and everything started falling back into place. I now have a fully functional bedroom where I don't have to dodge piles of stuff and power cords everywhere. Toss in some window treatments and I'll be in business!

My chi thanks me for putting the bedroom back together. You see, years ago it was brought to my attention that people of my Astrological sign (Libra) like to have a tidy home. My bedroom has always been a difficult spot for me, but I find that when I make a concerted effort to keep it clean and tidy, I feel better and the sun seems to be a little bit shinier. Plus my ass looks better in jeans. Now that I'm rocking running tights, I imagine it looks better in those as well. Ladies, if you'd like to hide in the woods and snap papparazzi-style pictures of me, by all means feel free. If you hide in plain sight, I can make an effort to smile as well.

So, all in all yesterday was an alright day. I did laundry, realigned the bedroom (and my chi) and did some hardblogging. Today has already started off better, so I am expecting great things.

Throw your Rolleys in the sky,
Old Coot

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Sunday, February 19, 2006

I Only Had to Use My AK a Little

Saturday was a good day, fine readers. It all began around 6:45 AM when my alarm clock went off. Joy of joys, an alarm clock on Saturday morning. Then, as I look outside into the blowing wind and freezing cold I thinks to myself "I'm about to get out of my multi-blanketed bed, dress in thin clothes, drive out to Lanesboro to run in the woods with people who have also forsaken their warm beds for this cold, torturous activity".

I found the meeting spot, this dude's house. They tried to cover the mailbox with a piece of plywood so that I wouldn't see the house number, but I found it anyways. It was a joyous run, despite the numb ass and "bits". As I was bounding down the mountain on the return trip I thought to meself "If you told me a few months ago that I'd be running full speed down a mountain in the middle of February, dressed in Spandex, I would have told you you were crazy". But there I was, and it was good times.

Then, we ate omelets, drank coffee and made plans for a Sunday AM run (where it would be colder, but less windy). Also good times. Ah, but before breakfast I ran over a driveway marker and may have jacked up the G-ride. Not good times.

Once at home I cleaned up the bathroom, cleaned up myself, cleaned some in the kitchen and snoozed a little. Then my new camera arrived. I bought it at www.buydig.com and it was well worth it. I placed my order Thursday night and it arrived here Saturday morning. How sweet is that? I promptly went to WalFart to buy a camera case, some rechargeable batteries and Fantastic(TM) all purpose cleaner.

I pulled the pictures of the kitchen project off the roomie's camera and I'm going to try and post a few, in whose glory I expect you shall bask.

The first is a picture taken shortly after the first cabinet came down. As you can see, I had to consult the home improvement book ASAP. Since nothing ever works to plan (which I make room for in the plan), we've already hit a snag...

The next picture was our multifaceted attempt to find out what was in the wall. Lesson learned? Of course there was a lesson here. Don't probe walls with a drill, you could have anything in there. Heating duct anyone?

Okay, it's now Tuesday and I'm never going to get this posted if I don't give up on the pics. I've been having mega trouble inserting them into this blog, so until I get that figured out, you'll have to use your imagination.

Once I get the pic thing figured out, I'll be a-posting some more.

Over and out,

Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Friday, February 17, 2006

Cards, Thugs and the Gas Man

Before I start, I want to make sure you all can keep a secret. Surrisly, this shit is on the DL. If you tell anyone, I'm going to have my kneecaps broken and my bank account emptied. We good? Alright, cool.

As some of you may know, I have somewhat of an addiction to Windows Solitaire - particularly the Vegas Style (I use the fish cards, but if anyone knows of a way to get "special" cards with pictures of ladies, let me know). I knew my addiction was bad, but last weekend I started keeping track of how much I win (ha ha, you never win) and lose. Keep in mind that I play for about 20 minutes a day before bed; I'm down over a grand already.

I'm not sure who comes to collect said losings, but I doubt he wears a white suit and has manicured fingernails. Nope, Lou Vegas and Bill Gates would send their most powerful thugs over if they knew the cash they could be taking from me. And since my deadbolt is sure to be broken soon (see Cabinets and Catfights) there'd be nothing in their way. Armed only with a small fire extinguisher, I'd be no match for their burly advances.

No, not those advances.

Second item of interest:

Last night, during a rowdy game of Euchre it came up that we really needed to solidify the spelling of Placatan. I play with the same people all of the time, and we have everything hammered out to the minutest detail. Something like a typographical misunderstanding could hold a game up for hours so, not wanting to waste any time, I whipped out the mobile and called up Dom on his mobile. I put that bitch (the mobile, not Dom) on speakerphone and got the official spelling, complete with accents. Pee - elle - ay - see - ay - tee - ay (accent on the ay) - en. Now, when you Euchre someone, you slam the defining card (or cards) on the table and holler "PlacaTAN!". This way everyone knows it was a Euchre and who was the resposible individual.

Big ups to Dom!

In other news, we were discussing work the other day. Not so much the work part, but just talk of the workplace. HECOW, in a bragging tone, declared that he didn't really work for anyone and had in fact "slipped through the cracks". To this, he added "I'm a gas". A pause for pontification while everyone did the math in his respective head and we all came to the same conclusion. HECOW was a gas who slipped through the cracks. I'll give you a second to work it out for yourself.

Yup, HECOW is a fart incarnate. PlacaTAN! Take that emmer effer.

Pimpin hoes slammin Subaru dohs,
Old Coot

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Thursday, February 16, 2006

Get yo ass off the wall, with yo two left feet.

He he, that has nothing to do with today's entry, I just like that line. It's funny to say, but I don't really subscribe to it. Consider my ass firmly planted on the wall.

Yesterday was GORGEOUS I tell you, gorgeous. I left work a little early to try and catch some sunshine in a late afternoon/early evening power run. I even treated myself to a new shirt. There's something about a new running shirt to really push you to the limits. I swung by Walfart directly after work, grabbed a white shirt (for nighttime visibility) and some assorted PowerBars. I get up to the cashier (strangely, there was no line) and the girl starts scanning my stuff.

As she scans the first PowerBar, she feels the need to comment on my purchases with "Eww, how can you eat these things?" Now I'm thinking, if she was good looking I might play back with her, but she was busted and I was in somewhat of a hurry. "Yeah, they're a little chewy but I love them" I replied, making it obvious that I wasn't going to play along.

As she attempts to scan my shirt, which is a poor man's version of UnderArmour (made by Starter) she feels the need to comment with "Oh, UnderArmour. What's this supposed to protect against?" To which I replied, "It keeps you dry, not safe." Ignoring that, she retorts "I don't think it would keep me from getting hurt. You see, I play football with my little brother." Me thinks to me self "Super. Wanna scan my shit so I can get going?" Not missing a beat, she continued to tell me how she always wins except for when he tackles her. For the record I think she said he was all of about 8 years old. This girl was probably around 17, pushing a deuce and a half so if an 8-year-old could wrangle her ass to the ground, her clothing isn't the problem, her weakness is.

I paid for my wares and hit the road. I set out some chicken at home, pounded some water and hit the bricks. With the weather as nice as it was yesterday (approx 54 degrees F), I felt obligated to kick back a "Half Mary", AKA half of a marathon. To the lay person, that's roughly 13 miles. I plotted out a route on Map24 and found me a nice route approximately 13.2 miles. The catch was that it took me over two gigundous hills; the first around mile 5 and the other around mile 8. For those of you unfamiliar with running hills (hiking is about the same), going uphill sucks but going downhill sucks worse.

It was the second hill where I began to get these shooting blasts of numbness down my right arm. First thought: HEART TROUBLE! Then I realized that heart problems give you shooting pain down the left arm, not numbness down the right. I figured it had something to do with the iPod I was carrying so I switched hands and pressed on. By the bottom of the hill it was obvious that the numbness wasn't going to go away, so I took it easy for a few hundred yards and shook it out real good, to no avail. "Fuck it, I'm almost home", which I wasn't. I had about 3+ miles left and it was starting to get cold (which also happened to be as I passed a Burger King, where they were apparently making a mega load of delicious fries).

All in all, it was a good run. I felt good the whole way (minus the numbness, sore big toe, rapid air temp drop, BK fry tease, etc) and treated myself to a delicious bowl of cereal and some chips when I got home. Then off to dinner, some quality TV and beddy bye time.

Hmm, just got an e-mail about a group run tonight. Perhaps I should go (stroking my power 'tee). Ideally I should rest tonight, but I like running with other people so I think it'll have to be a gametime decision.

Welp, that's all I have to say about that. End of entry ........... NOW!

Just scan my shit and shut the eff up.
-Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Cabinets and Catfights

Good morning sunshines,

Once again the only feedback I’ve been getting has been about not having enough postings. Sah-ree is all I have to say about that. Now quit your bitchin’, haters.

Last night after work, I swung by my friendly neighborhood Ace Hardware store to pick up some screws. You see, we tried to hang the kitchen cabinets the other night but our efforts were thwarted by the inferior screws purchased from my (not-so) friendly neighborhood Home Despot. As it turns out, a screw is not a screw, and The Home Despot knows uses this knowledge to shave a milli-cent off their cost by selling ones made of the softest material they could find. Needless to say, I either stripped or broke all of them. Plus they only had slotted screws (or what most people incorrectly call “flathead” screws), which anyone who has used a screwdriver knows is the worst design for a screw-screwdriver interface known to man. You’d be better off using your hand.

I digress. Last night, aided by the friendly staff at Ace, I bought myself 21 2 ½” #10 wood screws. I asked for 20, but the lady hooked me up with an extra AT NO ADDITIONAL COST. Sweet. Compared with the box of screws from HD that was opened and probably short a few, this was a great deal. To aid in driving the screws, we pre-drilled all of the holes and waxed the screws. The wax made it WAY easier to drive the screws and I only stripped one head. I highly recommend waxing all of your screws, it just makes sense.

As of last night, the wall cabinets are up and seem to be holding well. We put in 8 screws per cabinet (instead of 4) since the wall isn’t studded with traditional 2x4s, but rather little skinny strips of wood ½” thick. My guess is that the plaster is bearing most of the weight, but with a little load-bearing caulk I should be in business. We put about half of the dishes away in case the freaking thing came crashing down in the night. It did not, so I think it might be safe to slowly increase the load until it hits maximum capacity (AKA all of the dishes). I’d hate to have all of the glasses I’ve carefully stolen from bars and restaurants over the years break in one accident.

Let me tell you, folks, these cabinets are going to improve my life in ways I can’t even imagine. Not only are they nicer looking, but they sit higher off the counter so my Kitchen-Aid stand mixer will fit. Plus once we have put all of the appliances back on the counter, there’s still going to be WAAAAYYY more space due to the relocation of the microwave and toaster over. PLACATAN! I don’t know if that’s spelled right or even a word, but it’s Spanish (or at least Dom-ish) for Booyacah!

Also, I can only assume that the ladies will be pounding on the door (now that the new cabinets are in) trying to get a piece of this. I assume it’ll sound something like this:

BAM BAM BAMCRACK (that’s the sound of the side door giving way due to me not installing the deadbolt correctly)! RREEEEAAAAOOOOOH!!! (the sound of all the women catfighting in leopard print body suits). AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! (the sound of me running to get the camera to document the fight). RREEEEAAAAOOOOOH!!! (the sound of me stepping on Nano – the real cat – while running for the camera). Then…

“Woah, ladies, calm down. There’s plenty of Old Coot to go around. Woo hoo, that tickles! Okay, I think there’s some room on the other leg. There you go.”

With that picture in your head, I must bid you adieu. Hopefully with this new and improved weblog I can post some pictures of the wall art I call cabinets.

Over and out,
Old Coot

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Monday, February 13, 2006


Attention Readers,

I feel I should warn you about the kinds of things you're likely to encounter as you peruse my musings. For those of you fortunate enough to be a part of my daily life, you might as well not bother reading this. I'm pretty much an open book on tape. I tell everyone everything about everything. Most of it you don't even care about, but I tell you anyways. Even if you aren't listening, it doesn't matter.

In addition, part of my story-telling nature requires me to "workshop" my stories before I tell them to make sure they have adequate humor content. Thus, this weblog will contain stories that have already gone through at least one round of editing. And while I'm talking about editing, I don't want anyone to get confused. I don't edit for language or content, just for humor and emphasis. All stories are 100% true. And if there is a mistake, it's done merely by accident (such as I just don't remember correctly). But rest assured readers, I don't intentionally mislead. My life is as actually as this blog will lead you to believe.

Oh, and anything you perceive as offensive is actually not offensive. You're just reading it wrong. And I'm a frequent user of sarcasm, so be on the lookout. With that said, now I'll start...

Wait, one last item you may need to know. If you've heard a story or two of mine before, use my voice to read. I write how I'd like you to hear it as if it were being read by yours truly. For example, ALL CAPS and !!! are used for emphasis and/or yelling. Now I'm done prefacing this journal.

Get the Whole Story Here...

Welcome One and All

This is my first entry at this new blogging wonderland. I hope to see some familiar faces here - people who have followed me from livejournal - and maybe some new faces. For the newbies ... I always welcome comments and ask only that you keep them original. For example, you don't need to tell me any of the following in your comments, as they are implied:

  • You're a loser
  • This is why you can't find a woman
  • That's why your hair is falling out
  • Why can't you grow some hair
  • You're such a dumbass
  • You're such a cheap bastard
  • You drive a mom-mobile (refer to #1 and #2)

You get the point. Although impled, comments on my nerdiness and geekitude are still welcome.

Get your read on!

-Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...
"Something inside of me just said 'Hey, wait a minute, I want to beat him.' and I just took off." -Pre