Subway Walls

Mark; "I'm not sure if we should get the glass mosaic tiles or the subway tiles for the backsplash."
Me; "I don't know about 'we', but 'I' am getting the subway tiles."
Mark; "Waaaaa...., I want the glass mosaic.... waaaaaa"
Me; "I don't care. I'm the guy doing the tiling, and besides it's a rental unit."
"Waaaaaaaa....."
"Mark! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU WANT!"

That's us in the tile aisle of the Home Depot. It's not a pretty sight when Mark and I go shopping together. I often end up screaming at him, usually with profane punctuation.

I swore after tiling Mark's bathroom floor, that I would not be tiling another thing for the rest of my life. It appears that my word is as good as dust, because here I am tiling again. And the worst part about it is that I don't even get to enjoy the end result because this is for our next tenant. I do have to say it is turning out even nicer than I thought it would, and tiling a wall is much easier than doing a floor. In fact you can even sip a cocktail or a beer while doing a wall.

Mardi Gras

http://www.earthcam.com/usa/louisiana/neworleans/bourbonstreet/?cam=bourbonstreet

Thirty six years ago I got off a Delta jet in New Orleans, Louisiana, with a friend of mine. We were going to Mardi Gras. What happened on Fat Tuesday is a little foggy, but here is the little bit that I do remember. First there was a parade on Canal Street, and the people on the parade floats were throwing worthless, aluminum coins and beads to the people watching. It was bedlam. Old ladies pushing and shoving, little kids running everywhere, all vying for those stupid coins and beads. I managed to get quite a few, but after getting my fingers stomped on by a little black kid, we decided it was time to go over to Bourbon Street.

Bourbon Street was packed side to side with a human tide of drunks, a few religious zealots, and me. I almost immediately got separated from my friend, so I spent most of Mardi Gras alone. Here is an interesting fact about New Orleans. It is a place where you can drink liquor on the street, and the bars where you get that drink are open twenty four hours a day. That would prove to be problematic for me, as the rest of the day was a blur of wedging myself into bars packed tightly with drunks, trying to find a place to pee, and then trying to buy another drink from the over worked bartenders. I do remember at one point being on a balcony overlooking Bourbon Street, and seeing a lot of women showing off their bare breasts. They were standing under the balcony of a gay bar yelling for beads. Surprisingly, they got quite a lot of beads there. I also remember seeing naked people in the pool room of one bar. It is quite possible that I was one of them. Other than that, the day was truly a blur of drunkenness.

As you can see, I had a terrific time. So if you ever have the chance, go to Mardi Gras. Everybody should do it at least once. And if you do, try to keep your clothes on. It's probably for the better that you do.

Plumbers Crack

From my vantage point I could see down into the narrow canyon. It started at a dimpled clump of scraggly back hair, and disappeared as it widened, down past the leather belt into a damp, dark void.
"This bath fixture doesn't quite fit. If I have to replace the entire connection behind the wall, you'd be running into a bit of money for that."
My new plumber pulled himself up from his squat, and turned towards me, "I tell you what, I'll come back tomorrow with a different faucet. I'll install that toilet, and fix those kitchen sink connections then."
It was late in the evening already so I acquiesced.
"Okay, what time tomorrow?"
"I'll be here by nine."
This past week I discovered the golden rule of hiring plumbers, don't let them leave until the job is finished.

After my last experience with a plumber I decided to try a new one that a neighbor recommended. The last guy charged me twenty four hundred dollars to rebuild Mark's shower, and it took him over a week to do the job he said would take three days. I didn't have that kind of time for the job of fixing up my rental apartment, nor the money. I needed to have the place ready to rent out on the first of March. So nine the next morning I waited for the dogs to go crazy when the plumber knocked on the door. They didn't, because he didn't. In fact when I called the guy at noon, he gave me some excuse and promised he'd be there before five in the evening.
At six he called.
"I'm so sorry, I had an emergency job. I'll definitely be there tomorrow morning."
Again I waited. It was around two in the afternoon, the next day that he returned my call.
"I'll be there in an hour. Or better yet, are you doing anything Sunday?"
Now this was Friday afternoon, and yes, I did have plans for Sunday.
"Sure. Come over on Sunday and finish the job."

Yes, this plumber has the proverbial 'Plumbers Crack', and it was disgusting. But that isn't the plumbers crack I'm talking about. I'm beginning to suspect this plumbers crack is in a pipe that he smokes. It is now Monday, and the guy still hasn't shown up, or even called.

Photo Friday

My friends, Garrett and Russell in 1997

Russell and Garrett fifteen years later. At least they learned not to drink out of such gigantic glasses.

Video Thursday

I tried very hard to get Mark to help me with this one.

 He refused. I don't know why, he would have been just perfect in the part.

Warning: Bad Words in This Post

F.........................................................................................................................................................k!

Before

Yesterday I tore out the kitchen in the front rental unit, and each one of those dots in the previous sentence represents how many times I said the word fuck. I actually may be short a few. I forgot how dangerous it was to tear out those fifty year old cabinets. The last time I did it, surprisingly enough, was on September 10th, 2001. It was the cabinets in our own unit that I tore out on that day. Of course that date sticks in my mind because the next day when I was supposed to be prepping the kitchen for the new cabinets, I instead sat in front of the television for about eighteen hours. I blame the terrorists for my kitchen not being put back together correctly.

In an effort to get more rent out of the front rental unit, I decided to goose it up a bit. So I am putting in new kitchen cabinets, a new vanity and toilet in the bathroom, and I am plugging up all the gaping holes that the rats, and palmetto bugs use to gain entry to the apartment. My first task was to remove the newer cabinets along the side wall. It turned out that because of the leak in Mark's shower on the other side of that wall, all the press-board cabinets that had been installed some years ago had soaked up the water like a sponge. As I picked up the first one to carry it outside, the damn thing disintegrated, dropping a heavy chunk of it on the instep of my foot. I now have a nice bruise there, and a bit of pain. I also introduced the next door neighbors to a new record for the number of times the word fuck could be said without taking a breath. That record was soon shattered when I pried the upper cabinets over the sink off the wall, and they came crashing down tearing into my shin. This time there was blood, and skin was peeled away from the shin bone.

I have a lot of work to do in that apartment. I also have to scrub clean, and repaint the entire place. But the most daunting task isn't any of those things. The job that will take the most time and effort, is getting the stench of cat piss out of the place.

After

I Heart You

Such a lovely, and romantic day, Saint Valentine's day. Lovely for florists, and romantic because they love making huge profits. As for me, it's just another gigantic waste of my money. I am just now recovering from the shock of spending for Christmas, and Mark's birthday, now they want more. The bastards. I'm not even sure who the hell Saint Valentine was. I surely don't remember reading about a saint who loved chocolate, and flowers in my Catholic school catechism.

Sure, you say, just don't spend that much. Well you don't live with Mark. You don't know the ramifications of ignoring these goddamn holidays. Last year after buying the flowers, I went to CVS for some cheap chocolates. Turned out that the flowers were nearly dead, and Mark immediately called me on the CVS chocolates.
"Russell Stover candy? Well I hope you like hotdogs for dinner."
So this year I was going to try a little harder. I still got the CVS chocolates, but this time they are Dove raspberry truffle hearts. I also went on line for some decent flowers, forgoing the route I took last year which was buying them from the car window at an intersection. When I went on line for the flowers I was shocked. I soon realized that if I were going to get Mark some flowers, I would have to pull some money out of my rainy day fund. Well it isn't a rainy day, and I am not spending over a hundred dollars for something that will be dead within the week. Instead I got Mark a Macy's gift card. It combines the thoughtfulness of allowing Mark to go shopping, and me spending money I really didn't want to spend. Just call me a romantic.