Saturday, July 23, 2005

My house was wired by drunk monkeys

My mother and I finally guilted my father into coming over to my house and fixing things. It took several weeks of "But Princess' father painted her whole house . . . " whining but he was here yesterday("I don't paint." -- Mr. Crabbypants) . My mother sent him to do something that I had already done, but no matter, I had a pile for him.

After taking him out to lunch, going to the NEW Sam's club for some recreational shopping, and driving out to the "E lot" to look at cars, we arrived at my house and changed some outlets. I can do electrical, sorta, but I don't understand the subtle nuances, like, say, when someone makes an outlet a junction box and what to do if someone does. I tried to rewire a light in the basement and determined that my house had be wired by some drunk monkeys, so I put everything back because I am not a drunk monkey and wasn't seeing the logic. I then called my brother . . . because he does understand drunk monkey wiring and how to fix it, but he was still dealing with Mr. Pukey* and couldn't come to my aid. So really my father needed to come because he taught my brother how to understand wiring, home improvement, and drunken monkeys.

My father thought he was going to "help me with the shelf" which I had already put up two days before. Evidently my mother forgot that they forced me to do all the closets in their house, for two houses. "Well, aren't you glad we did that . . . you now have a life skill . . . " Putting up closet shelves is not a life skill, in my opinion. Anyway, my father came expecting to sit on the couch, with a diet Pepsi in his hand, and yell his own made-up directions to Closetmaid shelving. I made him rewire outlets instead. My father IS very knowlegable, don't think that I doubt that, and at the age of . . . well, his age . . . I suppose he can sit on the couch and tell me how to do things, he's earned it.

When he actually gets hands-on, he talks to the job using his own made-up swear words. He used to use everyday, normally-recognized swear words but switched since his association with Mr. Pukey. Mr. Pukey was not at my house but I guess he just uses the made-up ones all the time now. So he is on the floor yelling at the outlet, about how it is a cockroach because someone made it a junction box. (Come to think of it . . . he had made-up swear words when we were kids. Which is why I didn't recognize REAL swear words when I went to school. Think of the torturing possibilies of finding someone who doesn't know that f#%K is a bad word.)

I was trying to be helpful, so I started on the light. I know how to change light fixtures because I once waited six months for my father (and brother) to come and help and got sick of waiting. ". . . You now have a life skill . . ." comes to mind. The light changing exercise quickly became ME changing the light and my father standing there saying "Do you have it up yet? What about now? How about now?" which was really annoying. I pointed out that I was helping when he was changing outlet, being the good "go-for" that I am and that he could do more of that . . . and he laughed. I longed for the couch/yelling behavior. Well, everyone survived and I have a stair tred. (My father comes over and points out projects that should be finished and then leaves . . . and I do them out of guilt) Oh, and the outlets are good too.


* My nephew somehow caught something awful and couldn't keep food down for two weeks. There were a lot of trips to the doctor and hospital and it was very frustrating. He would look like he was getting better and want food, so they would feed him and then he would vomit again. Z and his mom didn't know the bucket trick (carrying around a bucket or wastepaper basket, evidently his mom was a better person than I was in college) and so for the first day or so there was throwing up on himself, throwing up on the floor, throwing up on the couch. I was there for one epidsode, there was no warning. So my brother had his hands full with Z, who is now nicknamed, unmercifully, Mr. Pukey. (He is better now. Had pizza and everything. No puking, knock wood, for three days)

Thursday, July 21, 2005

I'm gonna be late but . . .

I have to post so it can become ritual. Really, yeah, that's the idea . . .

That, I want to impress people with my ability to punctuate. I bring this up because someone complimented that "ability" recently. She didn't even know how much that would mean to me. Or maybe she did . . . anyhow, I'm going out to get my hair done . . . a very fifties sounding thing. I'm being a "Wembler" about if I want to keep it red or just to dye it all dark (espresso I think would be the color). I'm going to be late, as usual, since my hair isn't dry yet, make up not on and I have to drive to Milford.

The closet is painted. Two coats even. It would be done tonight but I have to pick up my brother, "the chosen one", at the airport. He comes once a year and everything has to stop . . . which is the major benefit of moving away, all the fawning when you come back. Let the overscheduling begin. The chosen always forgets that it takes twenty minutes to get anywhere in Detroit, even if you are just going to the 7-Eleven. So he overschedules himself and plans to be downtown and then our parents five minutes later, which makes him at least 2 hours late for everything. His girlfriend is a saint and really tries to keep him focused, so maybe this trip will be better. The family Christmas picture is Sunday and my sister refused to color coordinate outfits (for the record). I will be really amused if the chosen brings one of his extra cats (he already has five or six -- Monkey, Gimpy, Elliot, Six, Tux and one that I forget -- and he threatened to bring a kitten. How could he have a kitten?) since my brother seems to be running a "no kill" animal shelter that never places any animals.

So internet -- should you want any kittens, please just comment. I know the chosen has kittens to spare.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Alice Must Have Stood in the Closet and Smoked

Promised myself that I could not go shopping until I washed the front hall closet. (The cleaning of the whole house will be put off until Thursday at midnight) So as I am washing the nicotine off the walls of the closet, I think to myself . . . no wonder my house smells. I was awful, as usual. I don't know why I continue to be surprised . . . it was like this on all the other walls of the house (the kitchen I washed twice) but whenever I get to the next project I seem to forget how bad the last was . . .

So from my point of view, from washing the inside of a closet, the former owners must have just stood in there and smoked. I mean brown goo dripped down as I washed. Was Alice hiding from Harold? How did she not set the coats on fire? "Honey, I'm just going to have a smoke in the coat closet and then I'll get dinner on." I just don't understand.

Now I get to have a Kilz high. Maybe that will enlighten me about the smoking in the closet. Kids never smoke in the house . . . someone eventually will have to wash the walls.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Get off the couch campaign

So yesterday started okay . . . until the hatemail, so then I just sat in the comfy chair and knit. The only thing I managed to accomplish was hanging the stemware hanger that I bought last year at IKEA. Oh, and dyeing my hair, but that's an every fourth day thing. So my stemware is hung . . . and you wouldn't think I have alot but I do. The only place in the kitchen to hang this thing was next to the stove and above the toaster and, yes . . . I have thought to myself that I shouldn't be storing glass above the toaster but . . . I can't hang it on the ceiling (can't reach glasses) and I don't usually use the toaster for anything. It's not like the glasses are two inches from the toaster.

I'm going to the foot doctor today. I hope he doesn't find anything shocking . . . like the foreign body in my sinus (I wonder how much I'm will have to pay to get the picture of that). And I don't really like the idea of shots to my feet (my mom: oh yeah, they could just give you a cortizone shot for that).

So I must accomplish more things today. One of my former students JUST called for a letter of recommendation, so there's that to do. I don't know why I'm shying away from the painting of walls . . . I love to paint. But I sit and think . . . oh, shit, I would have to get out all the stuff and find the goggles so I can wash the walls . . . and oh, The Daily Show is on and that leads into that Southern Lady who cooks and I really want to finish this sweater. So I must think about the question for the first day of school: What'd you do all summer? Cause "I sat around and watched John Stewart" (though he is dreamy) will not cut it.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

I have what in my sinus?

Turns out that they don't even send the x-rays to the doctor . . . they just send a report. While I don't have horribly deformed sinuses, I do have a cyst in my left nasal sinus cavity. That would explain the pint of water that came out of my nose one day . . . a burst cyst. I also explains why my nose always feels stuffed up and why blowing my nose doesn't help. The allergist went into the "we'll just watch it" routine . . . "no problem, you don't have a sinus infection right now" but I insisted on the referral to the ENT. I don't think you can diagnose "benign" on an x-ray. Besides, I've occasionally thought about just taking a power drill and drilling a hole to release the pressure . . . now a professional can do it.

When I asked for a copy of the x-ray, they laughed . . .

"Again . . . I cannot . . .

comment on a continuing investigation." Or did he say "will not"? The hilarious television I get to watch with summers off. I got to watch that press conference LIVE. Hoo doggie. And after that I picked up some prescriptions and bought some yarn. Lots of excitement.

The prescriptions I filled out of guilt. I'm going to the allergist tomorrow for an appointment (not just the lovely shots) and hadn't filled the prescriptions from the last visit . . . in March. So I have not had any allergy meds in my system since March. The doctors may be a little irked with this type of behavior. They really like it when you follow their advice. So it won't be lying if I've taken the Nasonex for one day. Sure I'm taking my allergy meds. Oh, and I get to see my skull x-ray tomorrow. Nifty! I'm assuming I have a regular skull because the x-ray was also taken in March and they haven't called me . . . and they would call me if I had hideously deformed sinuses, right? Maybe I can bring the x-ray home . . . you know that would go in my living room.

In other exciting news . . . NPR had a whole show on adult ADD and it turns out . . . SURPRISE . . . that I have, like, every one of the "collection" of symptoms. Well, I didn't get in trouble in school. I mean, I was a huge pain in the ass but I don't think anyone called home about it. So from now on EVERYTHING that is remotely wrong in my life can be chalked up to the ADD. (at least that's what the callers on NPR were doing) Messy house = ADD, Any bad relationships = ADD, Crashing the car = ADD . . . I can even use it for an excuse for my muppet hair! Yeah, I wanted to beat my head against the steering wheel as this woman cried to the doctor that she just couldn't hold down a job and her unemployment was running out and her shrink just wouldn't recognize that she had ADD. I know she didn't mean to sound like that on National Public Radio -- in case anyone IS really reading this, but she did.

Also the guest on "The Daily Show" tonight rocked. Very cute and can't wait to go to Barnes and Noble and stand around to read his book . . . er, buy his book . . . called
"Spanking the Donkey".

Oh, and my mom . . . in her ultimate hipness . . . now has a blog, cuz all the kids are doin' it these days. But I'm not supposed to mention it or her for that matter, because she IS the director of homeland security (suburban division) and she wants to remain anonymous. So we didn't have this conversation . . . did we internet? So my friend (wink, wink) just started with blogger and wants to learn the joys of ". . . putting pictures and links and all of that stuff . . . I want sounds too. You can put sounds on it right?" Awesome.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Coolness with Flickr

Whatever you type in, this site will search flickr for the letters and create it. Mesmerizing.

Spell with flickr site

So that kept me amused for, like, fifteen minutes.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

So I'm a media whore . . .

. . . and I watch entirely too much CNN. Today I learned about:
-- the guitarist from Korn's (Bryan Welsh?) decision to quit the band and become a Christian. I gotta say good for him. Though the word devil was mentioned too many times, it was kinda nice for someone to be on T.V. saying "hey, I don't think five year olds should sing about sex". He IS going against the establishment.

--
Project Alabama, which has the coolest $300 T-shirts I have ever seen. Evidently, you can not buy them on the web . . . and my checking account thanks the world wide web for that because it is 4:30 in the morning and I would have bought one of those suckers.

I am up this early because I cannot close my front door and don't really want to sleep with the door open (little security psychosis thanks to my mother - the director of homeland security herself). I managed to get a third coat of paint on the door by 2 am and it's not quite dry enough. I'm afraid it will stick to the frame and I'll have to sand and start all over again. Backstory is: I painted the brand new expensive door when it was too hot or something and it got all drippy so I brushed over it and then it got all blotchy and drippy. It was a mess. So I had to sand and repaint. Now I'll only paint it when the sun is down and it's under 70 degrees. I'm on vampire time anyway.

I got up at noon and then took a nap from 2 pm to 4 pm because I wasn't really ready to get up. Mr. Crabbypants would be appalled with my complete "wasting of the day". At this rate, I'm wasting tomorrow too. CNN is such a good friend at 4 am though . . . I had forgotten about that.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Down at Fraggle Rock




My hair is now what has been described as "Fraggle colored" (but only after I described it as Muppet hair . . . then the arguement about if a Fraggle was a Muppet) and the color has lasted a whole 48 hours. I'll have to redye it tomorrow but I'm thinking maybe it will hold a little longer (maybe four whole days) after a couple of redye sessions. The Manic Panic website suggests that you put it on, wrap your head in plastic and then sleep on it but I'm not THAT committed. My bathroom already went through Amityville Horror . . . don't want to deal with that in two rooms of the house. And Manic Panic dyes skin really well . . . how many people end up dying their face while their sleeping when the plastic comes off?

Then I guess they would then really look like a Muppet . . .

(Fraggle=Muppet Really it's true.)

Friday, July 01, 2005

Vampire Red

Re-dying the hair this minute. Very tricky, the dying of one's own hair. I'll have to stop by the beauty supply store and pick up a brush. The "I'll just squeeze it on my fingers and work it in plan" worked but didn't work as well as I'd hoped. I'll now have a very red scalp. Better than the Bozo orange-brown my hair was turning. I don't think it will be interview hair though. We'll see in two more minutes.

So I have to type about something for two (now one) more minute . . . have to clean the bathroom again. Red dye is not really coming out of the sink, so I will have to bleach again. I really do love bleach, though only the gel stuff. I can't use the regular stuff, because I always splash it on something . . . okay, it's been a minute. Hold on, I'll let you know how the hair turns out.

My shower now looks like the Amityville Horror or Psycho, but in color. The hair does look redder, however, so mission accomplished. Next time, I'll rinse in the sink. Okay, off to go dry my hair and bleach the whole bathroom . . . again.