Monday, June 6, 2011

Pokin' my head out of the bunker

Just pokin' my head out of the bunker for a sec, before I get back to toiling.  See, this time of year - when all the schools are winding down their year - is psycho-busy for me.  Throw in the church remodel going on and the second job, and, well, the blogging bug ain't been bitin' barry often.  I appreciate your expressions of concern (and bail money) but, really, everything is fine.  My infrequent posting is nothing to worry about.  I'm fine.  Really.  Don't believe me?  Here.  I'll prove it:

I spent a goodly bit of the weekend crawling around in the rafters of the church, running some 'lectricity to the new bathrooms.  Lights and fans and stuff.  Trust me, it's important that those fans get a good supply of juice.   I'm not an electrician, but I know enough to hook things up safely and not burn anything down.  (So far).  What I lack is the experience to just whip through it. And the cool tools.  Having to do everything with just a screwdriver and my teeth really slowed me down.  SO DID THE HEAT.  It was really, really hot up there.  I was sweating like crazy.  Next thing ya know, the calf muscles are trying to cramp and the back is trying to spasm.  Not good.  I don't get back spasms often, but the couple of times they've happened I've been pretty much immobile.  Crawling out of there and getting back down the ladder could have been really bad.  Thankfully the cramps never advanced past the "annoying" stage.  The freekin' fiberglass insulation, though, advanced WAY past the "annoying" stage.  Nothing quite as fun as a sweaty wallowing in the fiberglass.  Owens?  Corning?  Someday... Someday, I will bump into you guys in a dark alley.  And y'alls better be wearing your cups!  I'm not sure how much of that junk I inhaled, but my wife said that in the middle of the night I coughed up a jet-ski hull.  It was so hard to breathe that my hands were trembling like Joe Biden's hair plugs when he's amped on Strawberry Quik and Rolos.  Makes it hard to get the Phillipian bit on the screw shooter to line up with the heads on the drywall screws.  Oh, yeah, then there was the "after all that work is done, realize that the light fixture spec'd by the architect won't fit where it was intended to go" thing.  Farkin' architects!  Question for the Pharisees and Sadducees:  Is cussing under one's breath more of a sin when done in a church, or is it less so 'cuz it was done while sweating for the Kingdom?
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Speaking of sin, I really shouldn't be joking about it.  I'm increasingly convinced that the End is coming soon.  I'm not going to throw out a date like that fool from a couple weeks ago.  According to the actuarial tables, I'm about halfway through my earthly life.  I'm just saying that I'll be surprised if I die of old age before Christ returns.  That's about as specific as I can get.  That said, come soon, Lord!  At the rate I am acquiring new aches and pains, I'll be a hunched-up cane-using little Yoda type guy slightly grammar better with, by the time I am 50!  Contorting around joists and insulation like the mythical RafterBoy doesn't help.  I really need to just be kickin' it in a hammock.  Doctor's orders or something.
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Speaking of Rolos, the Very Famous Burger Chain I do mornings at has added a Rolo item to the shake menu.  I overheard one of the little snotnoses there asking another "What the hellza Rolo?" and I replied "Are you even serious?" and he was.  So I sang the little jingle.  "You can roll a Rolo to your friend!  They're chocolate-covered caramel from end to end!"  Everybody within earshot looked at me like I was on crack.  Kids these days!  They can text, download an iTune, and play Call of Duty.  All at the same time.  But they don't have even the vaguest idea what a Rolo is.  We are so doomed.
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Speaking of so doomed, that's what Georgia, Creighton and Arkansas-Little Rock are.  Because they had to play my Beavers in the NCAA Baseball Tournament.  Wish college baseball got more attention and coverage.  It is a really good flavor of baseball.  Plus, it's like the only sport we're really good at.  OK, I exaggerate.  We're pretty good at football.  Most years we end up ranked like #23 and go to a middling level bowl.  We're always good at Wrestling and Gymnastics.  For about 60 years we were really good at basketball but lately have sucked.  But baseball... National Champs in '06 and '07.  I pity the fool that gets between the Beavs and another National Championship.
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Speaking of really good flavors, I'm talking about those assorted muffins my wife puts in my lunch.  One day it's blueberry.  Mmmm.  The next day it's chocolate chip.  Mmmm.  Then it's poppyseed.  Mmmm.  Then it's, um, like compressed sawdust.  NOT a really good flavor.  Ack.  Ever heard of Synesthesia?  It's a condition where inputs from one of a person's senses affect what is received from the other senses.  The typical case involves a person who sees colors while listening to music.  Most people who have it like it and are glad for it.  I think I may have a mild case, as my brain assigns sounds to things I see.  Not literal, audible sounds, but rather like the "voice" of me reading silently.  Does that make any sense?  [No.  Our readers already suspect we're schizo.  This isn't helping.  -ed.][Shut up, you're being delusional.  Again.  -ed.][Fine.  Whatevs. -ed.]  Like when a squirrel is bounding across the street, my "mind's ear" hears a little ba-doop-ba-doop sound.  Really.  At least until I swerve and turn him into pavement pepperoni.  [Kidding!]  And when I ate that HORRID muffin, my senses got crossed up again:  That muffin TASTED exactly like a wicker basket SMELLS.  Couldn't even swallow the first bite.  I can only imagine what the fiber count in that beast was.
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Speaking of 'that beast', Michelle Obama's favorite soft drink is Sierra Pist.
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Speaking of fiber, I am reminded of a really funny bit of stand-up by the late Dennis Wolfberg.  I'm sure it's in one of these links somewhere.  When I get more time I'll try to find it.
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Speaking of funny white guys, I've noticed that their life expectancy ain't so hot.  Dennis Wolfberg mentioned above.  John Belushi.  John Candy.  Sam Kinison.  Chris Farley.  All the funny ones die way too young.  S'pose that means that putz Bill Maher is pretty much immortal.

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Speaking of putzes, the Republicans are like foot fungus.  Really wish they'd just go away.  But they won't.  They remain a lingering irritant.  Democrats, however, are like a malignant tumor.  A malignant tumor full of herpes viruses.  A malignant tumor full of herpes viruses on fire.  So, having to choose between a lingering irritant and a prolonged painful death, I've opted for the irritant.  I am a Reluctant Republican.  Keep in mind that "innominatus" essentially means "generic."  When you see a poll that says "Obama getting whupped by Generic Repubican" you now know who they're talking about.
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Speaking of synesthesia, Tillamook makes EXCELLENT cheese.  They also make VERY GOOD (but not quite excellent.  Call it an A- ) ice cream.  Their yogurt, however, is beyond nasty.  It doesn't taste like fruit.  It TASTES like air freshener SMELLS.  Avoid it at all costs.  You're welcome.

15 comments:

  1. Ah yes, the joys of crawling around an attic when it's 9,000 degrees. You just took me back to when I was a first year apprentice. Not. Much. Fun. I was up there for a bloody week, and every day when I got home it was immediately into the shower.

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  2. Great Post~Hope the rest of your work goes well.

    WTHeck that kid didn't know what a "rolo" was.. I love those things. I roll them to my friends all the time~ Of course I remind them of the 5 sec. rule.

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  3. I'm gratified to see that you're still sucking oxygen and preparing for The End. However near or far it turns out to be.

    Deathbed repentance is still repentance...

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  4. Ahhhh. That's some good Inno right there!!

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  5. I put a few new circuits in our former home, from the box, right to the attic. I did it in April though, didn't want to deal with the heat.

    If you think that fiberglass is bad, try using power tools right next to cellulose. It created a toxic cloud that clogged my drill, and caused me to hoark up crud for a week.

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  6. I love you, inno.

    PJ

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  7. Pardon my blaspheme but I'm beating if Heavenly Father were stuck tending to fixing up things in a hot attic He might have a choice Word or two.

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  8. This was EPIC! I loved it, so "transitional" and full of segue. Very much awesome, Generic One!

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  9. Just about the time I am gunna say to heck with it all and go do the Jeremiah Johnson thang, I click on you and realize it ain't so bad after all.

    Thanks, just wut I needed.

    Courtside is waiting.

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  10. Those sounds you hear are you talking to yourself more as you get older ... trust me I know.

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  11. By the way, I'll need proof that you actually received the money I sent you for bail.

    Taxes you know.

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  12. The typical case involves a person who sees colors while listening to music.

    I had some experience with that phenomenon in the way-back. In-a-gadda-da-vida, Bay-bee!

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  13. Great post. Where do you come up with this stuff! Good random thoughts to ponder.

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  14. You're a geriatric Republican? Hmmm.

    Your depiction of running power reminded me of installing the attic fan in the last house - hot, cramped, dusty, and full of blown-in insulation. I sucked in so much fiber on that one that I didn't need to wipe for a week.

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  15. My, my. Weren't we wound up that day! What frightens me, though, is I followed every zig and zag you threw at us with no difficulty whatsoever. Scary.

    I taught at UALR for 10 years! You're welcome.

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Family-friendly phrasing heartily encouraged.

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