Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Merry Bi-Centbloggial

WELCOME TO THE 200th POSTING OF THE RANTINGS OF AN OLD COOT!>

I have a few stories to whittle, but nothing terribly exciting I'm afraid. We have cake here at Old Coot Productions®, chocolate with chocolate frosting. There are also balloons and confetti; it's a wild and crazy place. Uh oh, someone just filled the oatmeal pool!


The Shirt on My Back

Okay, due to matters to be addressed below (see mortgage section in a minute), I was in need of a mood pick-me-up after work. I was also (due to a possible recent growth spurt) in need of some pants. Buying stuff, especially new clothes, seemed like a good remedy for both.

I've noticed lately that it always looks like I'm expecting some serious rain the way my pants don't quite reach all to the appropriate cuff height. It's one thing when you're sitting and your sock is exposed, but when you can see argyle when I'm walking down the hall it's time to invest in a longer inseam.

Anyway, I picked up some new pants (ack, more freaking khakis; I hate khakis) and headed to another store to check out the shirts they sell that have caught my fancy as of late. Sho nuff they had some new colors and such in stock and even had my size. I grabbed two (since they were also on sale) and hit up the check-out. It wasn't until I was home and ironing some clothes that I realized I pretty much bought a shirt I already have. It's slightly different, but so close it'll be heavily scrutinized by certain people at work.


Yet Another Toy

It was a snowy, blustery night in Albany, NY and I was driving home from an evening out with some chums. Imagine, if you will, driving someone else's car (I'm a built-in DD) in snowy, slippery conditions. Also imagine that the driving you're doing is both city and expressway driving. When I finally got back to my friend's house to drop him and his woman off, I really had to convince them to let me drive back home (an hour in good conditions). The beauty of course, is that while I have a less fancy car than he has I: A. know my car better that I know his, 2. have less horsepower and wheel spinnability and III. have all-wheel drive. You combine those forces with some kickass driving music and I wasn't going to have any trouble.

My drive home was going along swimmingly and devoid of event. I even got to use my new bluetooth headset to field home maintenance calls from my blacked-out wasted friend. Apparently he had flushed the toilet with such force that he broke the handle. If any of you have attempted to fix a toilet you know how effed up some of the mechanics can look to a novice. Add 18 beers to that novice's arsenal and then try to explain the inner workings of a toilet to him over the phone at two in the morning and you can imagine how well it played out. Finally, I convinced him to go to bed and deal with it in the morning when he'd be able to see.

But that's neither here nor there, I'm just giving you an idea of how little extra attention the roads needed. By the time I hit Route 20 (if you're from this area, you'll know about our beloved Rte. 20) I figured I was home free. I figured wrong. At 2 AM there was a 95 alarm fire that required, you guessed it, 95 fire trucks to respond. They directed the traffic (me and two other cars) down a windy road known as Route 9.

I have never before set tires on this road but I figured that they'd surely have someone directing traffic along this detour. I surely figured wrong. Relying on my internal navigational skills is seldom a good idea but I guessed that I was going south on 9. Hang an east on 295 (God I hope 295 hits this road) and a north on 41 and I'd be back to 20. About 20 minutes later I struck 295. This was one hell of a detour.

After this experience I realized that I could use an electronic navigator in day-to-day driving and decided that the Garmin c340 I had been coveting would soon be mine.

Long story short, a Garmin c340 is currently en route to my house. I hope they don't get lost.

P.S. As of press time, FedEx already tried to deliver my new toy once. Thank God I didn't try to pay $10 for shipping as they suggested. I ordered it yesterday afternoon and it could have been delivered this morning. That's prompt service! I should have it in my hands tomorrow after work. Hey-Oh!


I Am the Anti Bank Robber

Friday was a day off for us here at the local powerpoint presentation factory. I used such a wondrous day to run errands, make cookies and handle my bidness. That's right you jerks, I handled my bidness, and by bidness I mean finances and other such demands. Not bidness as you're thinking.

Pervs!

Anyway, after I got the oil changed in my car, I swung by the credit union to unload a few hundred dollars in change. I had been worried about walking up to a bank with a heavy duffel bag, and my fears were met with a lobby full of nervous people. Two women even came out of an office to keep an eye on me. Finally I relieved their fears with the following statement to a teller:

I have an assload of change here. Is there anything special I have to do with it before I wait in this long line?


She told me that as long as they were rolled and I have an account there I'd be fine. Everyone else seemed to be put at ease. The poor teller who had to help me got a killer workout. We had to load up the counting trays with all of the rolls, then she had to move them to another bench for storage until they could get a cart to haul it all away. All said and done, my checking account was fattened by $462.

Plus I found a quarter on the floor, score! I pocketed that though, to be spend on something at a later time.


Mortgage Update

You'll all be pleased to know that I've gotten absolutely nowhere with my mortgage in the last few days. After the attorney had not received the deed, I took their advice and sent a reminder e-mail. The explanation I received was "I can't sign it, it has my maiden name." Well, two weeks ago when you received the fucking thing in the mail you knew it had your maiden name, you could have said something then. Of course she "just got it the other day". No, no you didn't because they sent it 2nd day air almost three weeks ago. She also promised to call my attorney to figure out what to do.

Knowing full well that she would, in fact, not contact my attorney, I took care of that myself and was told that she was wrong. She HAS to sign it with her maiden name, then write in something like "Now Known As" and her current legal name. Apparently she never went to the Notary Public because I guess that's common knowledge to those people.

I'm running out of time with the bank and out of patience with the level of cooperation I'm getting. I was promised full cooperation and as you've all heard (albeit from only my point of view), and if this is full cooperation I'd hate to see slacking. I initiated contact for this nearly four months ago, and all I need is one fu(k!n& signature!

End of vent.



Well, that's all I have to share with you. I hope you've enjoyed the last 200 entries, and that you'll stick around for the next 200. Hopefully by then we'll be able to share our cake with you in physical form instead of electronically. Until then, you'll have to take my word for it, this shit is the BOMB!

Over and Out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Thursday, January 25, 2007

My Magnetism is Attracting the Wrong People

Today is Shirt and Tie Thursday here at work. I instituted Pink Shirt Friday last week, where everyone in my department is supposed to wear a pink shirt on the Fridays we have to work (since every other Friday we have off). Only two of us wore pink, but another guy did the best he could with what he had. In fact, he went out the very next day and bought a new pink shirt. Talk about a team player. Anyway, the same guy wears a shirt and tie every Thursday and suggested that I do the same, so I have dubbed Thursdays Shirt and Tie Thursdays.

Note: Big ups to my sister for providing me with the only shirt/tie combo worthy of wearing on a momentous occasion such as Shirt and Tie Thursday.




Man's Night. Holla!

Yesterday, we held another installment of "Man's Night" complete with dinner, beer (for some) and pool (also for some). We chose a different restaurant to mix things up and mix them up we did. Instead of the old standby, we hit up a new place closer to where some of the fellas live.

As it turns out, this place has a worse waitstaff than the original place, which is known for its terrible service. We were literally the only table there and it was like pulling teeth to get anything out of this woman. You'd ask for a drink (she never asked if you wanted another) and she would walk away without acknowledging what you said, leaving you wondering if she heard you or was just plain ignoring you. Sure enough you'd get your drink, but why the attitude?

And who the hell picked the pirate music on the jukebox? As if the country music wasn't bad enough, they had to drop down to Pirate Pete! They're lucky I couldn't convince M-to-the-C to put something ghetto on there.

I should add that while the waitress hated everyone else there, she had a real thing for your humble narrator. This cannot be explained by anything other than my overwhelming charm. I mean, I was the guy ordering a diet Coke instead of a tip inducing beer or mixed drink, yet she even joked with me about the diet at one point. This could have been misconstrued as flirting, had there not been a half century divide between our ages. Actually, with a group of 6 guys it was construed exactly as flirting. What can I say, I'm charming.

A lot of things were discussed at this outing, none of which would be of any interest to any of you, with the exception of the people who were there and don't need to be told. To Bizarro, JC and Bill: sorry players you missed out on a root-tooting good time.

As we were leaving, we made sure to joke about the fact that Russ-T was going to be followed once again by the po-lice, and would he please go ahead so as not to inconvenience any of us with his escort. Sure enough, at the corner of the street there was a cop with his lights off who pulled out behind us. Since I was the last in line, he chose to follow me. Obviously Russ-T - AKA The Cop Magnet - would have been a better choice, followed by the four guys who had been drinking (although lightly), with yours truly being the least likely target.

Nope, he followed me and to show my appreciation for this service I drove 27 mph. I'm sure this annoyed him no end and he turned off with the quickness. Later, player.




The List is Growing

I've been putting together a honey-do list for myself all week in preparation for having Friday off. It seems like a good thing to have this day off - to accomplish all of these tasks - but in reality I only have to do them all on one day because I can't get out of work early enough any other day to take care of them. My list involves:

  • Bake some brownies and some cashew brittle. Technically the cashew brittle doesn't bake but you get the idea.

  • Get my oil changed. I'm only 1,000 miles overdue. I'm sure oil manufacturers design for a 33% factor of safety, no worries.

  • Go to the Post Office. I have 6 packages that need to be sent out (Ab, one is yours) to various people in various places, on various continents. I also want to get the ball rolling on my passport. I was going to wait until after I closed on my mortgage so I'd only have one thing to worry about, but you see how that's going.

  • Go to the bank. That damn sack o' change has a hot date with a bank teller, let's just hope I don't get gunned down by the security guard if there is one.

  • Handle some bidness. There are many things that need doing, which I will classify only as bidness. I hope to be able to handle some/all of them on Friday.

  • Buy some clothes. That about explains it, I just want to buy some clothes to replace the ones I'm taking to the Goodwill. Oh yeah...

  • Go to the Goodwill. Drop off the 26 gallons of clothes plus the box of stuff I don't need anymore.


Mortgage Update

Okay, no news to report. It looks like I'm going to have to send off a reminder. I'm so close I can smell it, but this last little bit is really dragging. Jeebus, help a brother out.



Over and Out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Old Coot Chillin at Start of Desert Race

Apparently it's not always warm in the desert. Sometimes (like every time I go to AZ) there are record lows, citrus dies on the trees, pipes freeze and so on. The trip a week and a half ago was no exception.

This picture was taken by one of my many hosts. In it, you can see that everyone is bundled up (it was 29 degrees F). I'm busy acquiring a satellite lock on my GPS watch, hence the wack pose.

The headband was a new addition to my running arsenal. I traveled, and stayed, with many the Jew, and was deputized as an honorary Jew for the weekend. The back of the headband had the words "Team Schwartz" written in puffy paint; everyone on the team was wearing one. Mine had the team name in the back so people would know who was passing them.

One last thing, doesn't the A-Beard look fantastic? I mean really, that is one damn fine arrangement of facial hair. Oh, and I think the lady in the green hat is checking out the old A-Caboose.

Get the Whole Story Here...

Recovery is Slow

Hey everybody, your old pal Old Coot here again. Once again I have been slacking on the blog front lately, but there hasn't been a whole lot to report. Blogging for blogging's sake leads to a stale blog, so I try to only bring the hottest, freshest shit to the table. Anyway, here's some stale shit to keep your neurons firing.


All Day Long, All Day Strong

Late last week someone got tired of hearing me complain about my piriformis pain (previously called "butt pain") and suggested I try Alleve. "Okay," I thought, "everyone has some pain killer they think is the best and they're really all the same." He proceded to tell me that Alleve is not ibuprofen (Advil), acetaminophen (Tylenol), or aspirin (aspirin), but some wonder drug called Naproxen. "This stuff works so well I was able to play through a groin pull and really hurt myself" he told me. Cool, where do I get some?

So I picked up a bottle at my friendly neighborhood Brooks pharmacy and gave it a shot. Mind you, Friday night I went for a walk of about 2.5 miles and practically had to crawl home it hurt so bad. Saturday morning I was hurting pretty good, but about an hour after taking it I felt like a million bucks. I'm now on a regular Alleve diet, once in the AM and once in the PM. I've even run the last 3 nights!

Alleve, where have you been?

The Can Man Cometh

Saturday was pretty much a productive day. At every turn I found one more thing to take care of that made my life just a little bit better. One such activity was to return the bottles and cans that have been piling up in the basement since that last Bush administration. I know, because I don't drink beer anymore (or 40s).

My new plan is to simply return the empty Coke cans whenever I shop for the measly 60¢, but first I had to rid the house of the hundreds of empties littering the place. They were all bagged, and for the most part sorted and counted, but they still had to find their way into my car and to the redemtion center.

So I got dressed, collected all of the bags, sorted the remaining empties and relabeled the bags with the appropriate empty count. I had about $13 worth, hardly worth driving to the redemption center for, hence the new plan. My basement is about twice as big as it was before without all that junk lining the walls. Ahhhh!

I blew $10 of the $13 on Alleve.

Making Room in my Drawers

Another task for the weekend was to get rid of some of my t-shirt collection. These aren't t-shirts you keep around for when your kids (which I have none) are in high school and need some retro gear. Nope these are t-shirts with dumb ass pictures on them, or shirts from stupid activities I've been involved with.

I sorted with reckless abandon, too. If there was any hesitation whether I'd wear it again (or should wear it again), it went in the donation pile. Using this techinque I managed to clear approximately 13 gallons of t-shirts out of my drawers, enabling them to close without that last shirt hanging out the top.

"13 gallons? Who measures clothing in gallons?" you might ask. I folded the shirts nicely and placed them into a 13 gallon trash bag. Simple enough.

Feeling inspired, I then turned my attention to my closet. There were clothes in there from the Bush Sr. administration. We're talking highschool, folks. Sure, some of the shirts would be fun party shirts but A. I don't party and B. I don't need 10 party shirts (some of which I have never worn). I also took the liberty of voiding my closet of clothes that are still in Grade A condition, but don't fit. Anything from the Lard-o Years was gently folded and placed in the donation pile.

Another 13 gallons out of my way.

This was just Phase 1 of what I hope to be a thorough, multi-phased overhaul of the wardrobe.


"Dolla Dolla Bills, Y'all"

Well, more like "Coin rolls everywhere around me, C.R.E.A.M. get the money, Dolla Dolla Coins, Y'all".

I've been saving change in my bedroom for the better half of a decade now and Saturday was the day to cash it in at the bank. I counted the rolls and came up with $462. CHA-CHING! I loaded the change into a duffel bag and humped it down to the car. I wasn't real sure about walking into a bank with a heavy duffel bag, but if I could avoid being shot long enough to prove it's just change I would be okay.

Let me tell you, $462 in change is a LOT of change, especially when $67 of it is in penny form. I ran some errands (returning empties) and hit up the bank. Wrong, the bank was closed by the time I got there. I guess I should have gone first. I tried the main branch thinking it might have longer hours. Wrong, shorter hours. Knowing that if I carried the change back into the house not only would I have to look at it for God knows how long, but it would be another half-decade before I took it to the bank.

And another thing... you know those mailing labels that every charity sends you by the pallet? I packed a few hundred of those in with the coins in case they require me to write my address on them. [Georgia Mass Choir]GENIUS![/Georgia Mass Choir]

Mortgage Update

I spoke with the paralegal at my attorney's office yesterday and was informed that the deed has not yet been returned. It was sent out Overnight on the 12th, which tells me it was in the proper hands on the 13th. A little math tells me it's been 10 days, 7 of which were business days (okay, 6 if you count MLK Day).

I don't want to come across as pushy, but this chick better sign that shit and send it back in the pre-addressed stamped envelope pronto. If I don't hear anything from the attorney by Friday I'm going to have to send a gentle reminder. Of course, everything I say has to be 100% kind so as not to enrage someone with the potential to make my life very difficult. Plus ALL girls are crazy and unpredictable, I can't afford to push this one over the edge just yet.

The second the ink dries on my new mortgage though, no holds will be barred. I don't expect any further communication, but if there is any I won't have to be so worried about what I say (or that I even respond in the first place). Oh, what a joyous day that will be!

Thanks for listening, I feel better now.

Well, that was a long one. I'll see if I can drum up some better stories for ya and holler at you one more 'gain.

Over and Out,
Old Coot

Get the Whole Story Here...

Thursday, January 18, 2007

More Details on Yesterday's Topics

Alright yo, we're steadily closing in on the bicentennial - or bicentbloggial - posting here at Old Coot Productions®. This isn't the 200th yet, I'm just letting you know it'll be coming. I'm not saving any big stories or news items for any sort of unveiling, but I sure hope that post is worthy of such an event.


Paint Sprayer Update

For all of you out there in Readerland who care about air tools, power tools and so on, I'd like to inform you that I am now the proud new owner of a paint sprayer. I stopped off at the local Home Despot last night to pick up some paint booth-ah items (I'll tell you about this trip in a minute) and set to work in my garage.

Contrary to my normal half-assery, I bought a canvas drop cloth to use as a backdrop for spraying. Normally I would buy a regular tarp only get paint on it and then track said paint all over my house, but this time I did it right and went with canvas. A good move by yours truly; it was a real treat to work with and only cost about $10 more than the plastic one.

With the tarp hung from the garage door tracks with care, I set up a piece of cardboard and practiced spraying it with water. This sprayer almost brought a tear to my eye as it made neither a mess of the cardboard nor a cloud of particles in the air. Next, I sprayed a piece of plywood with the aforementioned water and figured I had the hang of it.

My next step was to get the gun set up for primer. I carefully filled the cup with primer, got everything all set up and... nothing. Oh, the primer must be a little too thick, I'll thin it with some water. Here, we go... nothing. Okay, thin it again. Aaaannnnndddd... nothing.

When I say 'nothing' I don't really mean that there was no paint coming out, I just mean it wasn't working as it should. The troubleshooting section of the manual basically lists all of the adjustments for every problem you could encounter. For example, it was dripping paint at one point and the manual said that the problem was either the packing nut (some nut on the thing) was too tight or too loose, the air flow is set too low (or too high), the paint flow knob is set too low (or too high) or they paint is too thick (or too thin). "OH, now I can fix it" I thought.

I felt that the packing nut was the problem, so I tried that next. I can't describe it very well in words, but the way the nut works you also can't tell which way is tighter and which is looser. I tried both and neither seemed to work very well. By this time I had lost feeling in my big toes and a few fingers so it was time to start cleaning up. I'm thinking that I might just wait until it isn't in the single digits to try it again; maybe that was too cold for the paint.


Home Despot has Improved

At the end of my trip to the Home Despot, I was walking toward the checkout aisles when - are mine eyes deceived? - they have installed self-checkouts! Most HD's already have these I'm told, but this is relatively new to the Pittsfield scene. I was out of there in no time!


God Damn Sockets

Before I could use my new sprayer, I had to change the air hose on my compressor. I have a fancy new polyethylene one to replace the old rubber hose, and I needed to switch over some fittings. I busted out my million piece Mechanics Set of Craftsman sockets/wrenches and set it gently on a prostrate door, resting on sawhorses. I removed one wrench and BAM! the whole door fell down spilling sockets all over the god damned basement.

Nothing makes a job smoother than digging through piles of shit to find that last missing 4.5mm socket (for the record, that's really small). Then, to make matters worse, I had to put them all back in the proper spots in the case. Since I have the extra deluxe set, there are several of each size with subtle differences. So a 9mm socket goes in one of four places, but it has to be the right one or the case won't close. This was fun.

I will say that it was worth the hassle, because the new hose is pretty nice and will allow me to move more easily around the house without necessarily having the compressor right next to me. Instead of the basic 15-footer that came with the compressor, this puppy is 65 feet of lightweight, flexible polyethylene!


Mortgage Update

No news today. I'm not sure if no news is good new or not, but it's at least not bad news. I'm hoping to hear from the attorney soon, when he tells me he received the signed deed and everything is set for the closing. If the soon-to-be-former co-owner drags her feet too long I could be in some trouble. With the holiday this week (MLK Day) it's possible that she just got it on Tuesday, so I'm not worried yet.


Butt Pain Update

I gave my butt pain a roll on a tennis ball last night, and a lengthy heating pad treatment to no avail. It's possible that the massaging action of the tennis ball really just released some lactic acid (the stuff that makes muscles sore) and that's what I'm feeling today, but I'm definitely not feeling better. Limping around is getting old.


Okay, that's all for today. If I hear anything about the mortgage, I'll be sure to let you all know. I'm hoping that the 200th will bring news a closing gone/going well.

Over and Out,
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