I got an earful for ya

Fellow Countrymen (and countrywomen) and Othercountrymen (and othercountrywomen), lend me your ears.

Heh heh, that was from some speech by some important guy from a long time ago. I think it was Caeser, but I can't swear to it. What I do remember is in Global Studies (history) - freshman year of highschool - our teacher was reciting that speech and someone (cough, cough, Rick K.) whizzed a rubber ear at her. I didn't like to laugh at Rick's antics, because I found his sense of humor to be too cheap sometimes. He always got the laugh, but it was often the "stupid humor" Since we were two of the 4 new people to the school that year, I felt I was in direct competition for everyone's attention and acceptance, and he was winning it cheaply. But, I stuck to my guns and look at me now - I have my own blog read by upwards of 10 people every week! However, my hat was off to him with that stunt, Rick. It may have been set up, but I'll assume it wasn't and congratulate you.

Wow, that's not where I was planning on going with my blog today. My real story is about my sister (older sister to be exact) who is finalizing her preparations to leave for Japan. She stayed by my house last night to drop her kitties off at Snicky's house (sounds complicated, it isn't) and rest up for the drive to Buffalo.

She had brought the cats into the house and dropped them in the kitchen while she brought the rest of her stuff in. Patti was moaning and hissing and I attempted to calm her while I waited at the door for my sister. I knew the cat wouldn't take travel well, and she's a little rough around the edges when you first meet her, but the hissing was a little much. I turned around to see my two cats peering into her cage. Ooops, my bad.

Enough about cats again.

Well damn, I don't have much else to talk about. I'm currently living vicariously through everyone else's major life changes. My sister's moving to Japan, my roommate Jack Bland is moving to AZ, and everyone else I know is getting married and/or having babies. Where does this leave your humble narrator, you might ask? Free to enjoy the blossoming Summer of Todd. Surrisly, I'm bout to wild out! And below you'll see how...

How I'm fittin' to wild out:

• Buy a road bike and ride it often (no, not that wild)


• Regularly cook/bake wearing nothing but an apron (I'll pause while you picture it mentally)


• Build a front porch (anyone who knows me, knows this is extreme)


• Build a side porch (the one I have is just so ghetto)


• Perhaps go skydiving


• Plant flowers all over the place


• Get some grass going on the hill next to the driveway


• Wrap up the rest of my home improvement plans.

Huh, that doesn't sound so wild. Sure, the apron idea is a little wild. I'd try it with barbecueing, but the neighbors might not appreciate it.

Or would they?

Well readers, I'm running out of e-steam here. I'll let you get on with your day.

Over and out,
Old Coot

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Yes, I'm navigationally challenged

Hi all, I have a post all ready to put up here about some of my escapades over the weekend. It's sitting on my desktop on my PC at home, so I'll be sure to get it up here ASAP.

Other than what you'll be getting in a later posting, here are some things that went down over the weekend. I made it from my house to my sister's school without getting lost even once. It was a MIRACLE! Thank you Jesus! I did get lost later on that night in crazy traffic (you'll read about that later) and then for a short while on my drive back to the good ole Berkshires. The last one I blame entirely on Google maps and the State of New York. Apparently, there are no rules about naming multiple streets the same thing or putting the route number on the sign as opposed to the name of the street. A few extra turns and curses got me back on track. Bastards!

Of course as I was driving around lost, my contacts were fuzzing up something fierce so it was impossible to focus on either the road signs or my map/directions. I was heated.

The rest of the drive went well. I was transporting an entertainment center in the Soob (I still need a name for my car, and no, "Mom-mobile" is not acceptable), and found that it outperformed the truck in its transporting duties. Yes, the truck would have been easier to get the entertainment center into and out of, but I would have had to strap it down, cover it, pull over every 30 minutes to reattach the tarp, etc. So far I have only needed the truck for one thing that the Soob couldn't do, and that was helping someone move, so I'm grateful for that inadequacy. The only complaint about the drive was that the knobs kept vibrating loose on the doors/drawers of the entertainment center. Twice I had to look for one that had come all the way off, rolled around for a while and fallen off somewhere in the back. Oh, and once I had four bottles of hot sauce and three cans of tuna fall out of the door at a rest stop. Nothing broke, but I yelled a lot (this was shortly after I got back on track after being lost for 1/2 hour, so I was still a little tense).

Last night was fairly boring. I unpacked the groceries I got from my sister and made a nice pile of things that are up-for-grabs. I'm going to give Snicky the first cut at the leftovers since she has been nice enough to volunteer to house my sister's cats for the next few months.

Which brings me to my next point... I felt really bad calling her to ask about sitting for the cats. I had been badmouthing the cats for some time now, but when I actually got out there and spent some time with those kitties, I realized they're actually good cats. Sure, the female (Patti) hisses at me from time to time, she's still a sweetheart. She kept forgetting that she didn't like me and would snuggle up on the couch with me (until she remembered that I'm a bad person, and she'd hop down). And Ricky, the male is eggstra cute. He's a lot like my Vinny- chill and malleable - but also much less needy (Vin is SOOOO needy).

Enough about cats.

While I was out at my sister's abode, I put myself to work. The bathroom faucet was missing the cold handle. Since she couldn't find the replacement handles, she had bought a whole new faucet. I figured instead of assing out and only swapping the new handles I'd replace the whole faucet - "It should be pretty easy". Of course it wasn't as easy as I would have liked, but it didn't require additional trips to Home Depot so I consider it a complete success. Plus, the new faucet works/looks so much better that the old one. Score one for the good guys. Oh, and she has some nice photos of me working under the sink, complete with plumber's crack. I'll try to get the PC pic up sometime once she has it available to share.

My next project was to replace the smoke detectors. She has the fancy hard-wired kind that is hooked into the power panel. Oooh lah laaahh. Apparently during The Great Broiling Fiasco of Ought-Five the smoke detectors met their final demise. In the months following the Fiasco, they remained in service, emitting a low cricket-like sound, but offered no protection whatsoever. A quick repacement by yours truly and she is free to burn any and all pork chops she chooses, with all the bells and whistles. No Plumber's Crack during this project, just Electrician's Glute (and no photos).

So I'm back at work today and I'd much rather be home doing anything else. It's not terrible, I just have other things I'd rather be doing. Plus, since JD gave his notice everyone thinks I've got one foot out the door. If this screws me out of a raise this year, I'll be pissed!

P.S. I got my tax refund from Uncle Sam, so if anyone sees Steve "The Home" Depot, let him know that the money is on its way.

Over and Out,
Old Coot

P.S. I found some pictures of Old Coot related paraphernalia. Blogspot isn't cooperating, so I'll have to try and post them another time.

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Trip to Sis's Part I

Good morning all y’all readers out there in Readerland. For those of you who don’t know, I’m vacationing it up in sunny New York State. We’re expecting a sweltering 40 degree (F) today, so I’m pretty psyched. I made the grand journey down to my sister’s house for the weekend, to cram in as much sibling-time as possible before she heads off to sunny Japan for the next year(s). And by sibling-time, I mean I’m sitting on the fold-out couch with the cats, filling all of my readers in on the excitement that is my life, and she’s doing laundry. Ahh, the life of a grownup.

Yesterday I showed up at her school to hang with her 7th and 8th period classes. It’s safe to assume they’d heard of me, and I felt like somewhat of a celebrity. Not that anyone asked me any questions or for my autograph, but you know what I’m saying. Since it was her last day of work there, they had a little surprise party after school for her, and it was really neat to see that not only will the other teachers miss her, but the room was jam packed with students who genuinely cared. They had brought her presents, made scrap books for her and so on; it was really neat to see that she was the “cool teacher”. We all had one in highschool, and my sister was that one for a great many students (tear).

After school, we hit up Houlihan’s for some food and drink. I ordered my usual water with lemon and coffee. The waiter looked at me like there was something wrong with me. I guess I was ordering water and coffee on St. Patty’s Day, but the real confusion was the way I ordered it. It came across as water with lemon and coffee, as in one glass of water, flavored with lemon and coffee. I straightened that out with the promptness and all was good.

Dinner was fun, plus we had an upstairs table with a hot bird’s-eye view of the drunken fools at the bar. Suh-weet! I won’t bore you with all the details, but there was one guy in particular who needs mentioning. First of all, the only way to describe his shirt is by saying he stores it in a thimble and unfolds it immediately before going out. This thing had wrinkles on other wrinkles, and he didn’t seem to even care. I watched him talking to the shot girls (with those test tubes full of KoolAid), and without really knowing what they were saying I was able to deduce that he was trying to only buy one if they’d do one with him. They would respond (with cute pouty face) that they were not allowed to, and he would send them packing. Finally he bummed $2 off his buddy and bought one for himself. Lahoo-zaherr!

After din-din, I had to follow my sister back to her place. She gave me the basic rundown of how to get there, but I was just going to follow. [Enter Crazy New Jersey Driving, Stage Left] We were IMMEDIATELY separated, I dialed her up on the phone and we came up with a meeting place, but I could NOT manage to get there. The sign I was trying to find was standard road sign green, with a thin outline of whatever the symbol was, and the symbol itself was green. Then to make matters worse, they put it at about 6’ off the ground. Combine that with the madness that was the traffic (I have never driven in traffic like that in my life) and I was fit to be tied.

Finally we were able to meet up and I just kept repeating to myself “Just gotta make it to her house. Just gotta make it to her house…” And I did. We bullshat for a few hours then we were both passing the eff out around 9:30. Yup, I was in bed by 10:00 on St. Patty’s Day of all days. I am old! I am a loser! Check.

Well, it’s still early today. We’ve had breakfast and laundry is in the works. A trip to Target is in order; after that who knows what we’ll do.

I hope your day includes a trip to Target,
Old Coot

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Report from the Front Lines

Readers, I had a bit of an oversight in my last posting. Instead of adding it, I thought I would just get a new entry started to give this the attention it deserves.

Yesterday morning, I received a call from one of my field agents who was out assignment at Bob's Country Kitchen. You may recall such a restaurant from the Full of Swine portion of a previous post. To recap, Bad Jim and I ordered Farmer's Omelets which ended up being huge! Below is a paraphrased paraphasing of a conversation overheard by HECOW, on assignment. It all started out as a gentleman ordered an omelet (I will assume it was large).

Gentleman: I'll take a big ass omelet.
Waitress #1: Okay, what kind of toast would you like with that?
Gentleman: White, please.
Waitress #2: You wouldn't believe what this guy ordered last weekend. He ordered a Farmer's Omelet with everything in it.
Gentlman and Waitress #1: Everything?!?
Waitress #2: Yes, all the meats, all the vegetables. He even wanted cheese. The thing was enormous!
Gentlman and Waitress #1 (in unison): Fucking shit!
Waitress #2: He was strong as an ox, and as tall a giraffe's eye if he was an inch, I tell you. And handsome as the day is long. A finer specimen I've never seen.

At this point, two 21-year-old swimsuit models swooned to their respective deaths.

Waitress #2: And he almost finished it! Simply amazing.

Just then, another woman nearly swooned to death, but was saved by HECOW when he thrust his lap beneath the woman's head. Nice work, HECOW! I'll put you in for a commondation.

Now, I wasn't the only one to eat such an omelet, but from Waitress #2's description she was certainly talking about yours truly. And since this story is a paraphrased paraphrasing of the actual situation, some of the details may not be 100% true. But what is certain is that there was a conversation between two waitresses and a patron about my omelet.

That is all,
Old Coot

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Outrunning, outcast and outlets

Good morning loyal listeners! I have a few things on my agenda this morning and I hope to address them all before getting sidetracked. Damn, already sidetracked once. Stupid work and it's e-mail and meetings.

Okay, first of all I would like to talk about some of the things I learned this weekend. Friday night I went out with some local chums to a popular dining establishment The Olde Forge (AKA The Forge, AKA Olde Forge). Actually, The Forge is so popular there's a term associated with traveling to said establishment and dining - Forging It. Anyways, we had reservations for 7:30 so obviously I had to run some quick errands on the way, causing us to be a few minutes late. No biggie, they're usually swamped anyways.

When we arrived, it quickly became apparent that there wasn't going to be any parking available. Being the chivalrous one that I am, I dropped my passengers off at the door and drove down to the auxiliary lot up the road. I parked the A-ride, locked'er up tight and started a slow jog towards The Forge. Wouldn't you know that as soon as my feet hit pavement I hear the deep barking of an angry/hungry/venomous dog. I looked around for someone to push down (as bait), and when I found I was alone I shifted from slow jog to all-out sprint. I never did see the dog, but if you see a rabid dog with burnt whiskers, it's him. The burnt whiskers are from getting too close to my afterburners. What what! Moral of the story - ALWAYS travel with people you can outrun.

CELEBRITY SIGHTING: Len from work was there. He even shook my hand and later gave me the 1,2,3 fist pound (like the Rasta Mons do).

Saturday morning I joined the Crazy Group at Balance Rock Park for a run in the woods. I knew it was supposed to be warm Saturday, so I dressed lightly. Eeerrrooonnnggg, it was 36 degrees and windy. I figured once the sun came up it would be fine, and it was.

In the meantime, one of the women lent me her mittens. They were lavender in color and I voiced my concern that they would make me run like a girl (the lender of the aforementioned gloves has a funny "tweetybird" run where her arms stick out like little chick wings). Committed to the joke, I ran tweetybird-style for about 30 minutes until I could no longer take it. I returned the mittens and just dealt with the cold.

The neat thing about the Crazy Group is that they go on these runs and I have no idea where we're going. At one point, one of the women told me we'd end up at Jiminy Peak (a local ski resort). I figured we'd come running across some field and end up in their parking lot, but at one point I looked over and saw skiers. It turns out we were running up the back side of the mountain. As we arrived at the top, we decided to visit Hendricks Lodge for some water and a warmup. Plus the view from the top is AWESOME! We ate some bagels and drank some water, then returned to the trails.

On our way out of the lodge, we looked both ways and scampered across the trail. A family had just unboarded the lift and the youngest one commented "What are those people, daddy?" Yes, we looked like "The Others" from the popular TV show "Lost".

Later on, a snowball fight broke out and I was once again shown how smaller people are to be used as human shields. Bad Jim used one of the women as a shield, or more appropriately a baseball mitt, blocking each and every snowball whether it would have hit him or not. Mind you, this is the same woman we ditched that time the dogs chased us. I figured this was another one of Bad Jim's teachings, related to my story about being caught without slow people at the Forge.

Yesterday's run was less eventful. There was a great deal of mud and rocks, but the cool part was the plethora of zombie holes. You see, occasionally someone will slip on ice or mud and holler out to the people behind "ICE" or "MUD". But when you step on what appears to be solid ground and your foot goes through (and you can almost feel the cold hand of the undead on your foot), the only logical explanation is Zombies. I dubbed such hazards "Zombie Holes", which caught on rather quickly. It's pretty funny to hear grown people running through the woods yelling "ZOMBIE HOLES!" every time a foot breaks through the ground.

The last thing I want to discuss is my outlet situation. After borrowing an outlet tester from Len (see above), I found that about half of my outlets were wired backwards. Since we use alternating current (AC) in the good ole USA (and everywhere else in the world) this is not always a problem. There are however, situations where a simple short could cause a rather unpleasant death. So I decided it would be easy enough to just swap the hot and neutral wires on the outlets and all would be fine.

After about 30 trips up and down the stairs to the basement (to turn power on and off to the house), I got all but 3 working. Those three seem to be simply ungrounded, which isn't a major problem, but I'd like to fix it. It may require rewiring those outlets, in which case I will not fix it. The last thing I want is some home inspector ratting me out to a potential buyer, causing a problem when I try and sell the house.

Well, there you have it folks. I hope this wasn't too much to read in one sitting. I have some pictures of my unfinished kitchen at flickr, or you can wait until later when I post a little photo documentary illustrating the job from old cabinets to new ones (and completed paint job). Let me tell you, it looks fabulous!

Over and Out,
Old Coot

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