Suck It Bernake

This is why people need to vote for Ron Paul. Do you think any of the empty suits (McCain, Clinton, Obama) could lift Dr. Ron Paul's intellectual jockstrap? I didn't think so.

As a homeowner who has a great deal of my net worth tied up in a house whose value could decline as the result of idiotic actions by Bernake and his predecessor, the moron who shall remain Greenspan, I'm glad that someone like Ron Paul is talking sense and that (young) people are listening and voting for him.



And here is some good stuff on the War. Give em hell, Ron!

I'm going to nominate him for Honorary Ninjahood.

Future Ninja?

The kid's got skillz, yo!

On Target?

I am hungover today, but I received some good news today (and no, it's not that Hillary Clinton has Syphilis).


When I first bought the impenetrable ninja fortress, "they" said that a Target store was under construction and would be open "soon". Well...it's been three years and finally I can go get some slightly-better-than-walmart stuff without having to drive to Virginia for it. Oh yes, now high-ish thread count sheets and faux leather ottomans will be within walking distance of me. It will feel like I died and went to hausfrau heaven. Plus, I have some halogen bulbs that I bought at the Virginia Target 2 years ago that I need to return that I have been too laz, errr, busy to take to the other Target. It's like the planets are coming into alignment. The store is set to open in less than 2 weeks. I have seen then advertising job openings, and I thought about going in and pretending to fill out an application so that I could find out when they were opening, but luckilly, the internets saved me the trouble. March 9...sweeeeeet.



I figure that once the Target, Best Buy, and other retailers in that development by the metro are complete, it will make my ghetto more desirable, which will help me sell my sh1thole...err, fortress, to some yuppies for enough money to keep me in drugs and whores for a good long time. If I have any money left over after that, I'll even get a new car...or more drugs and whores.



When I first moved into my ghetto, the only place where you could buy stuff where the cashier wasn't behind bulletproof glass, was the Giant supermarket. Then a bar opened up...a yuppie food place...even a Ruby Tuesdays. Now the yuppie circle is complete.

I remember once hearing a hipster lament that soon my ghetto would look like Bethesda if someone didn't stop these greedy develepors. Rather than punch that soap-dodging hippie in his face, I just smiled and thought about what my house would be worth it it was in Bethesda.





One meeelyun dollars!















Anyway, in other news, I'm filling out an application for a home equity line of credit so that I can get central air conditioning installed. Selling a house to yuppies in DC without central air, is like trying to sell a car with no wheels to a Nigerian. I have no idea what that means, but you get the point.

Also...my dog peed on my rug today because I was too hung over to walk him last night. I heard him crying and scratching at the front door last night, and I yelled at him to "shut the fvck up and go already!" I was hoping that he would come upstairs and use the toilet, but whatevs.

At least it's not syphillis

Sometimes when someone says something, you hear something completely different. I'm not talking about some kind of Freudian thing where you misheard something, like if a cute girl says "wait a sec" and you hear "wait for sex", but the other kind of thing where you hear the words, but the message is something different, like if a cute girl says "hi" and you hear "I want to marry you and have all your babies...take me now".

The other day I was talking to someone who occassionally reads my blog. I think everyone should read my blog all the time, but I don't blame people if they only occassionally come to their senses and need to read fine literature on the internet. I mean, if people read my site everyday, what would the NY Times do for money?

Anyway, I was at an art show where a friend of mine was painting while a grunge band played bad music in the background. It's not really as weird as it sounds (well, maybe it is, but let's pretend for a second that it's not). This guy bought a house and has had even worse luck than me (no really). Termites...wood rot...famine...plagues...locusts. Whenever you hear stories like that or the stuff on this site, it makes me feel a little better because I think that things could be worse and luckily they aren't. Like if you fall and break your leg and you think your life sux, and while you are waiting in the emergency room, the ambulance brings in a guy with a broken leg...and syphillis. And you think "wow...at least it's not syphillis. I can handle a broken leg, but not a broken leg and syphillis". And that's sort of how I feel about the house. I can handle the bad plaster, leaky pipes (hey, I'm getting better at plumbing, so get off my back) but at least there are no termites. Things are stressfull, but at least it's not stress from something that I really can't handle.

Anyway, we were talking about my new countertops that were going to be installed in a few days. He mentioned that as long as the cabinets underneath were really, really level, that there's probably nothing to worry about. Rather than finding that comforting, I found it terrifying. You see...I leveled the cabinets myself. And even though he said "if the cabinets are level, there's nothing to worry about", the implied message I heard was "if the countertops are messed up, it's all your fault."

The countertops went in without a hitch. This weekend I connected the diswasher and tried to connect the plumbing underneath the sink (More pics to come). It's a double bowl sink and after several trips to home depot for parts, I managed to get everything connected underneath. One side is working perfectly, but the other side is leaking...a lot. Oh well...at least it's not syphillis.

Obligatory Valentine's Post

I am still sick, so I don't feel like doing a real post, so I have used my ninja time machine to bring you a love letter that I will write to my future wife at some time in the future.

______________________________

Dearest Future Wife who agreed to marry me without a pre-nup even though you have way more money than me:

Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years ago, my love, on February 14th St. Valentine was beaten to death with clubs and beheaded. To commemorate the occasion I have purchased for you a pair of red crotchless under-bloomers that I would like you to wear in the spirit of this event. I have also purchased for you a dozen of the reddest roses I could find. Yes, I know my love, there is no need for words. I care for you so much that, at my behest, I have had ordered a living plant-creature to be killed for you and I offer you its severed genitals as a token of my love. Although counter-intuitive, the severed genitals are not a veiled threat to ensure your fidelity, but rather a declaration of affection. I can think of no greater way to show you my love, dearest, except to offer you severed plant-creature genitals and then to do passionate sex to you involving sundry positions. Because it's a special occasion, we can even do that subversive woman-on-top position that you like.

Oh my darling, I have traced every inch of you with my hands, my fingers, my palms. I could sculpt you from memory, my love. Every inch of you. I know what you are thinking right now, beloved. You are thinking that watching Rock of Love 2 is futile since Brett Michaels can never fall in love with anyone since he is already in love with himself. But also you are thinking that if you died tomorrow in some kind of freakish accident--of the type that sometimes befalls people who are too much in love--that being able to sculpt an anatomically correct replica of you would be a useful skill to have.

But know this, my darling, I would not do sex to the lump of clay. Even though sometimes you lay there like a lump of clay, my love, the lump of clay is not you and it would therefore be like cheating, or at the very least be squicky, even though it is you--sort of.

No lump of clay, blow-up doll, or even an almost-high-priced call girl could ever replace you, dearest. When I put my mouth on your sex and move my tongue in a left-right-up-down-squiggle-squiggle fashion and variations of such a combination, I know that no other could possibly fake a climax like you do, oh sweetest.

Therefore, I hope that you will enjoy this Valentines day that I have planned for you and that we will remain together forever, or at least until such time as I can appear on my own fox reality TV show involving many attractive desperate women who will shamelessly compete for my affections and air time. After such brief hiatus I will return to loving you devotedly and exclusively.

Happy Valentines Day, Darling!!!

The Zen of Nyquill and the Art of Ukemi

I fell twice yesterday. Twice. I know the weatherman (or woman) warned me about icy rain, but I still needed to get out of the house for frivolities like food. The first fall was on the steps of the ninja fortress. The wrought iron steps were covered in an invisible (and deadly) sheet of ice. I didn't see it until it was too late. Mad skillz, mother nature! Mad skillz, yo! I wish I could say that my cat-like reflexes allowed me to recover in time, but that (like the justification for invading Iraq) would be a lie.




When I first learned judo a long time ago from this guy, I was told that the secret to not getting injured when you hit the ground really hard is to keep your body relaxed. Don't worry about hitting the ground, just focus on the sensation of falling. Live in the moment. Toddlers fall all the time and don't get hurt, and the reason (supposedly) is that they are relaxed and supple and therefore don't get injured (it could also be that they are only a foot off the ground, but whatevs). Maybe that's why I didn't break anything either time that i fell. I was calm and relaxed. It wasn't a zen thing, it's just that I was so high on Nyquill that I didn't even know what day it was, and I didn't even realize I had fallen until it was too late. My arm, shoulder, back and butt hurts today, but at least nothing is broken except my spirit. Nothing is wounded except my inner child.


So maybe that's a metaphor for life also...that the best way to live it is in a calm, relaxed state that is focussed on being in the moment and unattached from the outcome...and high on Nyquill.

sicko...

Still really, really sick. I took off from work today to wallow in self pity and get high on Nyquill. Even though I'm still stick, I can't sit home and watch TV all day like some housewife who married up, then quit trying to impress her husband.

This dog still needs to be walked otherwise he will poop on my floors. And even though I don't want to be bothered right now, it still wants to be up in my grill and demands to be petted and receive constant affection. It's like some really needy co-dependent girlfriend, except that there is no sex, so maybe it's more like a wife?

Anyway, I think yesterday I was the sickest that I've ever been...ever. If you would've come by the fortress and offered to put a bullet in me to put me out of my misery, I probably would've considered it. Of course, ultimately, my dog would've attacked you when you least expected it (his ninja training is progressing nicely) and decapitated you and laid your head at my feet as gratitude for my helping his escape certain death from a high-kill rural shelter.

Now, when I was a kid, I loved X-men comic books (who didn't, right), and my favorite character was Wolverine. Everyone wanted to be Wolverine because of his claws and adamantium skeleton. Wolverine, however, also had mutant healing powers. And when you're a kid, you think "so what?...in terms of superpowers, having claws and a metal skeleton is way cooler than healing powers." Well, if you thought that, then you never had the flu that I got.







I didn't have a thermometer, but based on my pain threshold, I think it was around 200 degrees celsius. Plus, I had sore throat, achy bones, and all kinds of phlegm that were colors that I didn't even recognize. If I had a canvas in the house I would've made you people a Jackson Pollock.


Anyway, my "point" , which I just realized I had, is that sometimes you underestimate a good, but not flashy mutant power, in favor of some other mutant power (like flying), but when you really need it, you learn to appreciate something like mutant healing.


Actually, I lied...I'm still feverish and I don't think I really had a point, but what mutant power would you like to have that doesn't seem so cool at first glance?

Ron Paul Girl and Obama Girl

I don't feel like being witty today because I am sick. Not sick as in "mentally off balance" which goes without saying, but sick sick. I don't usually get sick, so the fact that I have a slight temparature probably means that it's some type of super virus like the ebola or something. Not to worry, my superhuman immune system has contained the virus and will destroy it shortly, thus saving the world again. You owe me a beer, internets.

In the meantime, enjoy this youtubey goodness. GO RON PAUL!!!

The End of the MacGuyver Kitchen

I don't want to drag this post out anymore. If I teased this post anymore, I'd be able to get a job doing 80s hair in Brooklyn (or 2008 hair in Texas). I finally uploaded some pics of the kitchen that I finally installed the countertops in. BEHOLD BITCHEZ!


This is part of the wall that I opened up to make the kitchen more open. I added these brackets to turn it into a bar area (as if I needed more encouragement to drink). I don't know why everyone wants bars in their kitchens, but as long as some yuppie is willing to pay for it, I'll build it and laugh about it when I sell my place and spend that breakfast bar money on drugs and whores...errr, I mean on like, giving it away to like charities for like for blind kids or lepers or something.

Now this little knee wall was kinda wobbly, so....






When I added supports on the wall for where the countertop would go over the dishwasher, I added some extra bracing across it to keep the wall from moving.

On this part I got to use my new framing nailer a bit, which was really cool. I haven't used it since the first week I got it when I injured myself during a scientific experiment to see what kind of cool things I could shoot nails into. (Don't give me a powertool with safety glasses if you don't want me to do dangerous things with it...jus' sayin').



Here is the kitchen in progress. Yes, I know the picture is sideways...get off my back, chief!













So this is what it looks like with the doors on it, plus I cut the side pieces to match the doors in the front, which was harder than it looks because I had to buy a special blade for my table saw (fine tooth) and call in a favor from a friend to help me install it for free. It's not hard to install those side pieces, but it is a two person job if you want it to be straight and level.







Here is the side of the kitchen that is opposite from the sink.
















View from the breakfast bar












view from the kitchen sink before the holes for the faucet were cut, or the sink was installed.














Here you can see the hole on the bottom of the cabinet for the hoses from the dishwasher.












This is the finished look. That faucet and sink don't have plumbing hooked up yet, but it looks like it does, which is all that matters. Perception is reality.









And since you asked for it, here is a pic of Benny my foster dog doing what he does most of the day: sitting on the couch and staring at me while silently passing judgment on me.

By the way, that painting above the sofa was recently featured in the Style section of the Washington Post. Does that make me an art collector?

The Fried Chicken Eating Nomads

I'm learning a lot about human behavior from walking my foster dog. Like, for instance, there are people who walk around my neighborhood eating fried chicken and throwing the bones along the sidewalk. I have never actually seen these people, but I know they exist because I have seen the bones everywhere.

Eating chicken bones is very bad for dogs, so either there are lots of these people walking around everywhere in my neighborhood eating chicken and throwing bones everywhere, or there are people who hate dogs, hiding fried chicken bones in the grass in order to harm dogs. Since people who hate dogs are worse then Hitler, I don't know what to make of it. Luckily my dog is not "food aggressive" like other dogs. Some dogs growl and bite when you go near their food bowl, but my dog allows me to open his mouth and take the chicken bones out of his mouth without biting me. He just gives me the "oh no you didn't" look.

Now, what I find more disturbing than someone who is worse than Hitler, is the fact that my dog may not respect me as pack leader. As part of my responsibilities in being a good foster parent, I sat and watched several episodes of the Dog Whisperer with my new dog. I want him to understand the concept of the pack leader/alpha dog (me) and the pack follower/bitch (him). What I learned from the show is that the pack leader eats first, then the other dogs can eat when the pack leader says so. This is why when a dog kills a squirrel or a rhinocerous, he will bring it to you and lay it at your feet. As pack leader, you are supposed to eat first and give him what's left over. It's a sign of respect. You are Don Corleone, and he is Fredo. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want to eat old chicken bones that have been sitting in the gutter, but as the pack leader, he should at least offer me some first, then try to eat. I took his eating of the chicken bones as a a sign of defiance of my authority as pack leader. Like when Tattaglia tried to kill Don Corleone, in Godfather I.

If I'm on a first date, I always pay for dinner, but I expect the girl to at least pretend to reach for her purse so that I can say "I got it" and she can pretend like she was willing to pay and that I am a gentleman. So the dog should pretend to offer me some old chicken bones before digging in (because I am pack leader) and I can so "no...the pack leader doesn't want chicken bones from the gutter, but you may have some because you have been a good pack follower/loyal bitch."

I have tried other things to assert alpha dog/pack leadership over him, like (1) keeping him on a short leash so that he doesn't walk ahead of me; (2) doing the occasional alpha roll; (3) humping the dog's leg so that he knows he's my bitch. The last one gets me funny looks from people at the dog park, but I don't really care what they think because they are not my pack members. There are only two members in my pack, and if I'm the one paying the mortgage and buying the dog food, then excuuuuuuuuse me for wanting to be in charge for a while.

I think the reason that he doesn't respect me as pack leader is because of the poop thing. Just when I think he is starting to RESPECT MA' AUTHOR-I-TAY he poops, and then watches me while I pick up the poop using nothing but a poop bag and my bare hands. I wouldn't respect a person who stood there and picked up my poop with his hands while I silently judged him and mocked him in my head. (Yes, I know it's judging me and secretly mocking me...if it could talk, I'm sure if it would make fun of me to its doggy friends).

Now, a friend of mine thinks I am taking the whole pack leader thing too far. She thinks that you can train a dog using love and positive reinforcement instead of using calm assertive leadership and humping its leg. I think dogs are like bowels and they view people like sphincters, and if you show weakness, they will sh1t all over you. And I am not one to be sh1t upon. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that it is possible to train a dog using positive reinforcement and love, but if it's all the same to you, I'll keep humping its leg.

It's raining Cats...and a Dog

I hate this weather more than a college socialist hates a bar of soap. Although the heat seems to be working fine at the ninja fortress, I am always not-so secretly worried that it will start leaking all over the place, I will be stuck without heat and they will find my lifeless frozen body wrapped in the infamous sweater, that while toe-ing the line between european metrosexuality and gayness, is remarkably warm. Then the coronors will come and while i'm in a body bag they will go through my p0rn collection and steal the good stuff. I don't care about most of it, but I would like to be buried with the Brianna Banks one, so although it's not in my will, if any of you are at my funeral, make sure no one takes it out of my coffin when they are pretending to mourn my passing. Anyway, part of the reason...well, actually most or the reason I worry about the heating system is that I did the plumbing work on them. I think I'm okay at soldering pipes now, but I definitely learned by trial and error (and error and error) and I worry that some of those early experiments will come back to haunt me like Frankenstein's monster.



The weather is really getting on my nerves because I started fostering a rescue dog and part of that means getting up every morning at 5:30 am to walk him. This is not fun under the best circumstances, but it reaaaaaaally sux when it's 15 degrees out, like last week, or when it's raining like today. And when dogs get wet they shake themselves dry, but they usually wait until they get inside to do it....nice. On my hardwood floors. Mutherflower!!!


He's a good dog and if I take him for a short run in the moring (I can't do a long run unless it's in a dream sequence involving zombies) he naps for several hours, but if I don't take him for a long run, he's got a lot of pent up energy and I've got nice stuff that I don't want him taking his frustrations out on, so jogging it is.


I'm still adjusting to this giant rat that I saved from certain death, but I'll post more about that soon. Right now, I'm drinking tea (no, I'm not British) because the girl in our office who makes coffee is out sick today so it's either walk a half block to Starbux or drink this urine colored grass water. I don't know how sick she is, but she better have a broken leg or a failed kidney because I need my coffee and tea is for old ladies. That's right, lady, I don't care about your "flu" because it's all about me, me, me!!! And my dog...

Pensive

Everytime another birthday rolls around, I get pensive. I was watching that new Scott Baio show on VH1 the other day. For those of you that don't know, Scott Baio had a "reality" show last season on Vh1 called "Scott Baio is 45 and still single". This season he is married and has a new show called "Scott Baio is 46 and still a douchebag". Actually, that's not the title, but it should be. Unlike most really rich guys, Scott is not some fat, bald investment banker working 80 hour weeks in order to get enough money to buy a trophy wife that doesn't have an eastern european accent. He made a lot of money off bad TV shows and is still young enough to enjoy it (not to mention that he has a full head of hair and lacks a spare tire around his midsection). On his way to being 46, he had sex a veritable who's who in hollywood hotties (Pam Anderson, Nicole Eggert, and numerous Playboy Playmates). Anyone who lived Scott Baio's life could be hit by a car and die a happy man, but all Scott does is complain and whine all day...you know what he does when he's not complaining? Neither do I, because he does it all the time. He's the Italian Woody Allen. Well, he whines like Woody Allen, only it's not funny when Scott does it, it's pathetic.

At any rate, one of the things I think about occasionally is settling down and getting married. Although I am the world's coolest uncle, I wonder what would happen if I don't settle down. In time, will I become an annoying whine-bag like Scott Baio, or this guy?

I think I'm in a better position (financially, emotionally and physically) than I was last year, but if you told me 10 years ago that I would be living in Washington, working for the government and spending my free time obsessing about countertops, I wouldn't have believed it. I have always been a libertarian, so if you told me 10 years ago (or yesterday) that I would be working for the government and enjoying it, that would be like telling a virgin in a convent that in a few years she will be working in a whorehouse and loving every minute of it.

For a second there I thought I was digressing, but digression implies that I even had a destination to begin with.

Anyway, I think (objectively) my life is okay right now. I have a house that is looking better, I have activities that I enjoy like meditation, salsa dancing, going to art museums and choking people. But I think I can do better. And as part of my introspection I have come up with interesting ideas about what direction my life will take in the next year.

I have a couple of nice trips planned and I've been getting calls from headhunters lately about job openings (some in DC, some in other cities), so I will be thinking long and hard (hehehehe "long and hard"!) about what to..."long and hard"...hahahha.

Where was I, oh yeah, Scott Baio is a douchebag.

Free Plug Fridays: Canine Edition

Even Hitler liked dogs...FACT!

So if you don't like dogs, then you are worse than Hitler...CONCLUSION!

Therefore, if you don't want to turn into some twisted hateful genocidal mutant with only one testicle, then you should consider owning a dog. Some of you might be wondering, what my point is. Or do I ever really have one?

I guess my point is that this Sunday, you can go to a dog adoption thing and get a dog, so that you don't end up like Hitler (married to a fat chick, living in a basement and waiting for the russians to close in on you).

Anyway, the adoption thing is in Arlington, VA from 12-2pm. It's at

PetMAC Arlington
822 N. Kenmore St.Arlington, VA 22201
(www.petmac.org)
703-908-PETS

Yes, I will be there because I have two testicles and I hate genocide. I am still undecided about what dog to get (if any). See you there! Or maybe I won't...you nazi!

Suck-i-tude

Okay, I suck at blogging lately. I know some of you are thinking "lately? when were you ever good at it? Or anything else for that matter?" And to that I say "Mom, I told you to stop reading my blog."

In between being busy at work, and with fun stuff, I also managed to get some stuff done at the house. So, although I'm not a new year's resolution kind of guy, I am a no-unfinished business kind of guy. So over the next few posts I am going to clean up some loose ends around here.

1. I'll finish up the Adventures in Law episodes where I talk about legal jobs that I've had. We have one more episode with Carl/Chris and the girls who crush on him, then we'll get to some really weird (but really true) stories of life at an actual law firm with psychotic bosses, incompetent support staff and one really handsome new associate who would eventually become a blogger that everyone knows and loves. And no, this story has nothing to do with Pink is the New Blog;
2. I'll throw in a couple of holiday stories with my wacky family (hey, you people are cheaper than a therapist);
3. I'll tell you about a good deed that I did which almost got me mauled by a rottweiler (I am really starting to hate my neighborhood);
4. and...I'll post some pics of my new kitchen countertops.

I tend to think of my house as some kind of metaphor for my life (in the Japanese "Kaizen" sense of continual improvement), but when I saw the countertop installed and I realized that the sink and dishwasher were in place, but weren't hooked up, that it really was a metaphor. It looks right, but it's not working. Just for show. It looks good from the outside, but upon closer inspection is completely dysfunctional (for now). Wow.

Also, we have an important dog-related announcement to make...with pics. Stay tuned.

Free Plug Fridays: Art Edition

Once again I will save you the trouble of thinking for yourself and give you a few Ninja-Approved Activities to pass the time. Because I'm all classy and shit, this week we will reviewing some artistic activities.

I. ART SHOW

One of my artist friends is having a big solo show in Alexandria, VA next Friday (January 18th) at the ArtWhino Gallery. You can see a poster for it below.

ArtWhino is a great new gallery that specializes in emerging artists. Unlike most of the other galleries in DC, they don't suck. They give talented newer artists a chance to display their work and get noticed. Sort of like Warehouse Gallery did in DC (before they got crushed by the twin headed monster of property taxes and gentrification).

As you can see from the flyer, it's got art, live music, booze, and cool people, so there's so much going for it that you should definitely go. It's more fun than watching midget wrestling, which is probably what you'd be doing that weekend if you didn't come.

If you are a guy, bring your girlfriend. If she's busy, then bring someone else's girlfriend. If you are a girl...wellllll, hellllloooo there :)

See you there. Email me if you have any questions.




II. Japanese Art Exhibit

Also in our free art stuff section. There is a great exhibit going on at the Sackler Gallery. It's a showing of Edo Period Japanese art. You can't get more ninja than that. The good thing is that the exhibit is so large that they are rotating the exhibits every couple of weeks, so you can go again and each time the place will be different. Like one of those choose-your-own-ending books, except that it's with pictures instead of words, and everyone is japanese. But you get the point, right?

III. Ninja Approved Artists

Because good things come in threes, and I can't think of something else to write about, I'll endorse a few artists now.

Joroko: very edgy anti-establishment artist. I have a couple of his pieces. One of them got me laid by a funky art girl with tattoos.

Davo: A cool cat that I met in Maui. I'm not a fan of Peter Max, but when you see Davo's work, you will see what pop art should look like. The painting I got from him is one of my favorite two paintings in the ninja collection.

J.Coleman: He's got the show at ArtWhino. You can see more of his work on his website.

Matt Sesow: Edgy DC artist. I'm going to his next open studio. I've been thinking about buying one of his pieces for a while and I saw a few new ones on his site that I liked.

Actual Home Improvement Stuff

One of the many things I am reluctant to do without guilt (because I'm catholic and feel guilt about everything) is to let other people work on the ninja fortress. It's partly because the first contractor I hired screwed up a lot of things and I ended up having to re-do them; which meant that I had to do it myself, and pay for someone else to do it which gave me the worst of both worlds. But it's also because on some level it feels like accepting failure; like admitting there is something in the world which I am not good at. I don't like to admit that. I'm a talented lawyer*, an exceptional salsa dancer, a skilled martial artist, a good writer, and I'm even reasonably good at pleasuring a woman.** How can I admit that there is something I can't fix with my powerful arms and manly home improvement tools? It's like admitting that you were born without testicles (which is okay if you're a girl, but not so okay if you are a man). Still, there is so much that needs to be done that not hiring people for some of it would be crazy and would make the renovations drag on forever. As it is, it already feels like forever. Renovating my fortress is starting to feel like watching The English Patient on endless loop for a week or making love with Rosie O'Donnell for an hour. Will it never end?

Anyways...I said I would post some home improvement stuff again, so I will. I got a couple of quotes for installing the kitchen countertop and I decided to go with someone that was recommended by a friend of a friend. After getting different samples and a couple of bids from different people, weighing the options, considering all the pros and cons, and looking at my astrology chart, I decided to go with the cheapest option and will cover my new cabinets in plywood...ok, I'm kidding about that. I decided to go with this Zodiac stuff, which looks just like granite, except that it doesn't have to be re-sealed every year and, unlike Mitt Romney's magic underwear, it doesn't stain. It's the same price as granite and it looks nice I think. Since I have black appliances, hardwood floors and darkish cabinets, a friend suggested Toasted Almond, which looks great, but with the size of my kitchen would be expensive. It turns out that the manufactured stone is sold by the slab so if you need just a leeeeeetle more than one slab, they have to charge you for two, which raises the price an extra $900. It seemed kinda silly to pay more for artificial stone than the real thing since buyers always think the stuff created in a lab isn't as good as the stuff created by nature (no one pays extra for a cubic zirconium ring). But in talking with the guy, he said he had a piece left over from a prior job and if I went with that color, he would only have to order one slab, so I can get it for the same price as the granite. Score! FYI, it's Minera Pearl, which looks the same, except with more black flecks in it, which actually makes it match better I think. I don't have ovaries so I'm not good at matching, but that's my opinion, for what it's worth. Anyway, I'll fax back the estimate today and I'll be sure to take some before/after pics of the cabinets (and my bank statement) so that you imaginary people can feel like you were watching the whole thing as it happened...like some kind of creepy celebrity obsessed stalker. Wish me luck.



*At least four of my clients from my law firm days are in federal prison now, but that is mostly due to their bad character, not my lawyering...well, that's my story and I'm sticking with it.
**I don't mean any particular woman, just women in general.

SUV Attacks on Homes Resume.

It's been a while since I mentioned SUV attacks against homes. I previously discussed the topic HERE, HERE, and HERE. Because it's been months since I mention it, you might think that a Kamikaze attack on someone's home was a fad like Disco or the internet, but sadly the lack of recent attacks was just an attempt to lull people into complacency in order to launch further surprise attacks. See the latest article HERE again.

As many of you know, I've been debating whether or not to adopt a dog recently. Although some people (incorrectly) assume small dogs are gay, I am still committed to adopting some kind of small (but still hetero) dog like a combat Beagle, or possibly an attack Dachshund. These kamikaze attacks give me pause, however. I am sure that with the proper training in Northern Eagle Claw Kung Fu, (which I studied for almost an entire year when I was 15 years old) a dog of any size could repell any unarmed invader, and most armed invaders. I could leave for work everyday and the Fortress would be in safe hands...errr, paws. Still, I worry about whether a small unarmed dog, with no opposable thumbs will be able to resist an attack by armoured assault vehicles.

My neighbor drinks quite a bit and he's got a pretty big truck. It's not outfitted with .50 caliber machine guns, like my Ninja Lite-Armoured Assault Vehicle (NLAAV), but it could probably kill an unarmed Combat Beagle if it caught the mutt by surprise (like when the dog is raiding my fridge or licking himself).

Maybe I can teach the dog to drive and he can go all Mad Max on the neighborhood?

Ketchup post

Well, spending Christmas with the New York relatives isn't nearly as traumatic as spending Christmas with the Florida relatives, but I guess it all depends on how you look at it. You could just as easily say that Dante's third circle of hell isn't as traumatic as the 8th circle of hell. But still, if you had a choice between Christmas with my family and doing something more enjoyable (like laundry, or being date raped at a fraternity party) you would probably never get to hang out with my family and get some insight on how I learned to laugh at everything (while crying on the inside of course).

Spending time around my nieces and nephews is always an interesting experience. If you asked me before Christmas if I ever wanted kids, I would've said "yes...someday." But after a few days with the feral children, if you ask me the same question, my reply would probably be "no...I want a vasectomy...right now."

I'm back in DC now. New Year's Eve was enjoyable. I spent it in a hipster neighborhood in DC doing some of my favorite things : hanging out with friends, listening to live music, and salsa dancing. I later found out that I was a few doors down from another blogger, but I had no idea that she was nearby. She is an excellent stalker, it turns out.

I have read your comments on the previous posts, and instead of ignoring them, I will take them to heart and endeavor to try to bring more actual home improvement type posts in the near year.

This Blog Writes Itself

I won't apologize for the long absence because I'm not paid to blog, and the internet is not my girlfriend (despite the amount of p0rn on there). I have been busy, but I should have more time to waste...errr, I mean to "be creative" on the internet in '08. Either that or I will finally kill this blog (which, like a drug resistant staph infection, or Jason from Friday the 13th, proves remarkably resilient).

In the meantime, since I don't feel like thinking of ways to entertain you, why don't you go fu...errr I mean, entertain yourself. Or better yet, in an homage to a dearly departed blogger, I'll take suggestions from the peanut gallery. You can ask me a question (like "how old is your dog") or you can make a suggestion (like "tell us about the first time you had a concussion"). By the way, when I say "make a suggestion" that doesn't mean you should suggest things like "why don't you go fcuk yourself"....errr, I mean "entertain yourself". I meant make a suggestion about what to write on this blog (like "do a post on bacon" or "tell us about [something] interesting]"). If you know me in real life you can make a non-blog suggestion (like "get rid of that euro sweater" or "take skydiving class" or "go entertain yourself".). But if not, then keep it to blog content.

I will be spending a few days in NYC with my wacky family (which is slightly different from the wacky family I usually spend time in florida with) so I should be back to blogging with newer and more traumatic family stories for the new year. Merry Christmas Everyone!

The Salvador Dali Commute

I think sometimes life becomes surreal when it's most banal. I was walking my usual commute yesterday and nothing out of the ordinary happened, just like every day for the past five years, when I heard a crashing sound and I saw a guy on a bicycle flip head over feet when he collided with a Miata. I took off my headphones and walked accross the street (for entertainment, not because I cared if anyone was injured), and I assessed the situation.


The guy on the bike wasn't wearing a helmet, but he looked unharmed (not so for his bike). He was a tall, bald black gay man. (by the way, only black folks should shave their heads bald, when white people do it, it looks gay). Now, normally I would agree with those people who say that you can't tell if someone is gay by looking at him, but this guy was an exception. You can usually tell when someone is gay if they are flaming, and this guy wasn't just flaming....he was on fire. When he was yelling at the guy in the Miata (yes, a guy was driving the Miata, don't get me started), he sounded like Wesley Snipes in that To Wong Fu movie.



"You almost KILLED me...you crazy old man, with your little midlife crisis car, why don't you look where you're going!"







The driver, a short, old, white guy in mid 50s with a piece of toilet paper stuck to his face (not making any of this up) to cover a shaving accident got out and instead of looking at the biker, was obsessing about his passenger side mirror. Two accidents in one day, chief...maybe you should call it a day. Normally I would tell someone if they had toilet paper on their face, but I didn't like this guy very much.

Old old lady with blue hair stopped and asked the bicyclist if he was okay and wanted to call an ambulance.

"No, I'm okay, but thank you for asking...unlike SOME people...yes, I'm okay sir, really I am, no need for you to get off your black berry phone or anything to see if I broke anything. I' m sorry if I inconvenienced you when you ran me over...did you spill your latte?"

Then the old lady started berating the old guy to get off his phone and told him what a jerk he was.

"Well, look at my car, there's glass everywhere!"

They stood there for a few seconds, the bald black man fixing his bike wheel, the short white man with toilet paper on his face fumbling with his blackberry, and the blue haired lady lecturing on rudeness...it looked like David Lynch movie. The only thing missing was a midget and an old lady carrying a log.

Then the flaming bald guy got on his bike and left, and the old guy with toilet paper on his face got back in his car and drove away. The lady with the blue hair turned into a midget and ate a lion with her....okay, that last part didn't happen, she just walked away too. Just another banal commute...