DIY No More!

When I met Mark I had a lot of life left in my body. Like some kind of demented wizard he has been sucking that life force from me ever since.

A week ago Mark dragged me over to Target. He said he had to pick something up. Wrong, I had to pick something up. It was a heavy shelving unit that Mark wanted, and it came in a big box full of many pieces. For a week now it has sat in the box on our bedroom floor, and every day for a week Mark has nagged me to put it together. I finally mustered up the energy to tackle it today. I am 63 years old. I have very bad eyesight, arthritis, and a bit too much fat around the middle. I don't like do it yourself projects. The reason I picked this day to put the damn thing together, is that Mark was out of the house. I do better when I'm by myself and there are no distractions. Unfortunately Mark showed up when I was about a quarter of the way done.

    "Those shelves are upside down."
    "Well if you hadn't come home and distracted me they'd be right side up."

So I dismantled what I had put together, and reassembled it correctly. About thirty minutes later Mark came back into the room.

    "That piece across the top is upside down."
    "Goddamnsonvabitchinmuthaassinine piece of mutherinscumbastardlychinese crap!"

So again I dismantled the entire shelving unit because each piece was dependent upon the other for support, and reassembled it correctly. Or so I thought.

    "That piece on the front of that shelf is on backwards. The shiny side should be showing, not the dull side."

So now Mark has a nice new shelving unit for some of his five hundred cook books. It is six feet tall, has five shelves, and is a nice cherry-wood color. Except for the middle shelf. That one has a dull brown finish and always will. That is, unless Mark wants to dismantle the goddamned thing and put it all back together again.

Oh Joy!

The rainy season has arrived along with the hurricane season. Well, not officially. It actually happens on June first, but tell that to the sheets of rain that pummeled my windows all day today. Besides the constant flooding in my back yard, and the scary television specials telling us we're all going to die in a hurricane, I have to deal with two neurotic dogs. It's very difficult when they have been on a strict pee and poop schedule for the dry months. Now we have to go back to watching the weather radar, and looking out the window to see if my dainty little pooches can go out. I've tried just opening the back door to let them do their thing, but they both stand there horrified at the thought of stepping out into the downpour. In fact Sasha won't even get within ten feet of the back door, so she's been peeing in Mark's shower, and pooping in my bathtub for the last two days. We've learned to look before stepping in. Chandler on the other hand will go out in the rain, but only if I put him on a leash and go with him. Because of that I have cut his walks to just the corner and back. Apparently that doesn't give him enough time to do his thing. Three times today he has come to me with that panicked look on his face that means, I have to go... NOW! Unfortunately I missed one of those while taking my afternoon nap, and Chandler decided that next to the window in the living room was close enough. Mark found that one. He's such a baby.

New Rules

The vet told us that our dogs are fat. She said if we don't stop feeding them human food from the table we would be cutting years off their lives. So with that in mind I have started the training. As soon as I get Mark fully trained I'll start on the dogs. Meanwhile they don't seem to understand exactly why Mark isn't sharing his dinner with them.

Resentment

A Coors commercial came on while I was watching baseball, and when it was done I swore I'd never buy Coors Beer. My problem with the commercial is the use of a song I really used to like. Love Train by the O'Jays. I'm sure the ad agencies have done mountains of research that say using old rock songs is a good thing, but I have to disagree. It only makes me resent that brand for ruining a good memory. Love Train used to bring back pleasant memories of one of the best times of my life, the seventies. Now it just makes me think of a train running where it shouldn't, and a bunch of drunk hipsters having a good time. I hate Coors.

Site of the Memorial Day Cookout.

About two weeks ago Mark told me he was having a cookout on Memorial Day. The conversation wasn't, "Alan, I'd like to have a cookout on Memorial Day. Is that all right with you?" No, he said it was happening and that was that. So this past week I had to clean up the yard, trim the hedges, get the swimming pool into shape, clean the house from top to bottom, and go with Mark on numerous shopping sprees for food, liquor, and holiday decorations. In addition there was the constant re-cleaning of the kitchen as Mark produced chicken salad sandwiches, pulled pork sandwiches, barbequed Hawaiian pulled pork sandwiches, taco casserole, watermelon salad, and various other dishes. The dishwasher was running non-stop for three days. That is until early Sunday evening when a horrible grinding noise came loudly from the kitchen. It was the dishwasher, it was dead. To understand the full impact of this you must understand how Mark cooks. Let's say he's going to make a ham and cheese sandwich. You would think he would take two pieces of bread, some ham, some cheese, and maybe some mayonnaise, and neatly produce a sandwich. Not Mark. When Mark is done making that sandwich there is mayonnaise everywhere, there are ham bits flung against the wall, cheese shards stuck in every crevice, and a huge pile of bowls, and utensils along with two dogs gleefully grabbing as many of the sandwich makings as they can that have fallen into their realm. But I have strayed from my main subject; Mark's party and my resentment that his party created a lot of extra work for me, and burned out the dishwasher. Mark just had a big party four months ago and I think one big party per year is more than enough. In the forty seven years before I met Mark, I had a total of three parties at my house. I just don't see a need for them. Anyway, there is an up side of this. I did a lot of extra work around the house and it now looks much nicer, and I'm going to get a new dishwasher.

Memorial Day 2013

Dad's Flag

Millions of people have died needlessly in wars because of the lies and failures of those in power.

Flowers that I planted yesterday, outside my garden gate.

Hair of the Dog

For the last four months Sasha has been chewing on her leg. I noticed it early on because of the little naked patch. What is weird is that I can't catch her doing it. I keep finding little black hairs laying around that aren't curly, so I know they don't belong to Mark. Anyway we took her to the vet, who gave her a shot and some pills. Two months later and Sasha now has both legs denuded of hair. So today it was back to the veterinarian's office for another shot, more pills, and a lecture about how fat we've allowed her to get. Sasha, not the veterinarian. The veterinarian is quite lean.

An odd thing I noticed while in the waiting room at the vet's office, was that my pinky finger was hurting. I sat there massaging it and I noticed that my pinky finger is bent. There is a very noticeable bend at the first knuckle. Is that normal, what does it mean? I don't remember smashing it, or breaking it, or hurting it in any way. In fact now that I look more closely I think my forefinger is bent too. Not nearly as much, but it does have a little bend to it. Much like the rest of me, it's a little bent.

Just a Little Off the Top, or Until My Ears Start Burning

There are some things that you can say to anyone; non-offensive things, small talk. Then there are the things some people say in front of others that might be a bit over the top, to get peoples attention. Occasionally you will run across somebody who has no filter; a guy or girl who has no barrier erected between their twisted mind and their mouth. They go too far regularly.

Yesterday I got my hair cut. I've been going to the same barber for the last few years. He's okay, nothing special, but he happens to be one of those people without a filter. Unfortunately what is going on in his brain is not very pretty, and he loves to share it with everyone in the barber shop. Most of what he told me yesterday I cannot print here. It was filthy. Here is just a sample. He told me about how his mother thinks he should quit drinking. He said that he wouldn't quit drinking unless his doctor told him to, and that he has never told his doctor about how much he drinks, just so that the doctor won't tell him to quit.
"I know I drink too much." He loudly told everyone in the shop.
"You know you do stupid things when you drink." replied a customer.
"Oh, don't exaggerate."
"Exaggerate, what about the time you left the Rawhide Bar buck naked? You went all the way home without a stitch of clothing on."
"Oh yeah. How did I do that? I woke up the next morning, and I couldn't find my clothes anywhere. The last thing I remember was standing on the bar, taking my clothes off, and some guy.....  "

So why do I keep going back to this barber shop? Well, the stories can be kind of interesting, but the real reason is that the haircuts are only ten dollars. It's the cheapest place in town. Yep, that's me, dirty and cheap.