Sunday, December 28, 2008

Happy Holidays to All!

Sorry, no post this week. But be sure to stay tuned in for the first post of 2009!

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Covered parking is something special


I think the caste system for cars is this; top: garaged cars, middle: car-ported cars, bottom: uncovered cars.

My car is definitely in the bottom category. The poor thing has never been garaged. The only time it's shielded from the night sky is when it's covered in a blanket of snow or ice. Or tree sap. Or bird crap.

In nice summer weather, it's not bad at all for my car to have to sit out under the night sky. But in inclement weather, I feel bad for the little guy. For one thing, it's previous owner installed an aftermarket sunroof. When it rains, it leaks like photos of a celebrity checking into rehab.

And then there are the elements of winter. Snow and ice are horrible for the both of us; it has to be parked in it, I have to scrape it.

I don't know about you, but I have my morning routine down pat. Showering, dressing, eating, etc., are all allotted a specific number of minutes. If I schedule any slack into the schedule, it would have to come out of my sleep time. I'm not willing to do that.

Thus, if I wake up and it has snowed, I know I'll have to pick up the extra minutes needed for scraping my car windows from another essential task. Usually it's the soap lather in the shower that get's nixed; there's no way I'm cutting into my breakfast time.

Then there are the times that I don't look outside once I wake up. I carry on with my usual routine and head out the door at the proper time, only to see a build-up of ice all over my car. It's a race against time to create a couple peep holes in my front windshield.

However, this year I've decided to make the unplanned morning chore of scraping ice from my windows a little more bearable.

I'm going to keep a bottle of fruit-flavored syrup in my car, along with a stack of Styrofoam cups. Then I'll collect the ice shavings that fly off as I madly scrape away. A fresh snow cone could really make the morning commute more enjoyable.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Do-it-yourselfers have to bounce back

Photo: http://sportzfun.com/photos/boxing/boxing_giant

We were positioned a couple feet from each other, alone in the bathroom. With the door closed, we stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity--neither of us flinching, but one of us dripping.

I tried to mask the fear that swirled inside me, but I knew my facade was transparent. I was heavily unarmed, while it was decisively defiant. A fight was about to break out, and I was coming in as the underdog.

In my heart I knew I had a puncher's chance, and I've watched enough Rocky movies to know that kind of chance is worth something. The bell rang and I immediately went for the cold-water handle. I twisted and pulled until the decorative grip came off and the innards were exposed.

I was in a struggle to stop a leaky faucet, and it was obvious I had no strategy.

By some act of providence, I luckily remembered to turn off the water shut-off valve located below the sink. Then, with my makeshift tool set, I undid bolts and lifted flanges. I tweaked a few things, then put the faucet back together. I turned the water valve back on and took a step back, only to see the drip return.

I went back in for round two, and started to take the faucet apart once more. I freed a couple parts until I got to the faucet cartridge. I pulled up on it, and that's when it hit. A gush of water was suddenly shooting me in the face and drenching my clothes. For all I knew, I was standing over Old Faithful. I shielded my eyes as I tried to see where the attack was coming from.

Turns out I'd forgotten to turn off the water shut-off valve the second time. Little O-rings, springs, and washers were spread around me; I had no idea where they came from, or where they belonged. I was dazed and my clothes were drenched, as was everything else in the room. The match had ended by knockout.

A rematch was scheduled for one week later, and the sink was on lock-down until then. I prepped myself by making a trip to Lowe's to get several new faucet parts, as well as a couple more tools. I made it to the plumbing aisle, where I joined a couple other guys who were staring helplessly before an array of plumbing parts.

We each took several turns picking something off the shelf, looking it over, then putting it back. A drip of confidence couldn't be squeezed from the lot of us.

Eventually, a store employee came by and asked if we needed help finding anything. I glanced around at the other guys in the aisle, and they glanced back at me. Everyone was hoping someone would speak up and set a precedent that it was OK to receive help. But after several moments of silence, the employee shrugged and walked off.

I randomly grabbed a few things and headed home. I felt assured as I walked back into the ring with my new arsenal. I waited for the bell, then in a flash I had the water shut off, the faucet dismantled, and new parts inserted. I turned the water shut-off valve back on and waited, breathing heavily. No drip. I had come back strong, and I'd won by knockout in the first round.

If you don't want to pay a plumber $50/hour, you've got to be willing to put up a fight.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Figuring out coupon etiquette

Photo: http://www.theonion.com/content/node/43195

I was feeling a bit nostalgic last night, so I decided to take my wife out on a date like the ones I used to take her out on before we were married. The only things real particular to such a date are; 1) plan as you go (I'm rather charismatic under pressure), and 2) keep it under ten bucks.

Naturally, we started out at the Nickel Cade. Our time was well spent; my wife perfected her stroke at the skeet-ball ramp, while I broke the basketball arcade game with my aggressive play. We won enough tickets to cash in for a stretchy sticky-hand and a kazoo.

Afterward we ended up at the Sonic Drive-In, mostly because my wife had a coupon for 99-cent shakes. As we approached the order menu she told me I had to tell the cashier I had a coupon when I ordered. I froze.

No way was I going to announce over a speaker that I had a coupon! My mind raced back to a date I had early on in college, with another girl.

This girl had wanted to go ice skating, so I planned out a date down at the local skating rink. The day before the date, one of my roommates found out about it and gave me a 2-for-1 admission coupon he had lying around.

The dilemma arose: is it OK to use a coupon on a date? Would she think I was a cheap son-of-a-gun, and walk away? I had no idea. Highly concerned, I discussed the situation with a friend at work.

Probably because he was working the same $6-hour job I was, we concluded that I should use the coupon and save $6. However, we agreed that the transaction would need to be made without my date knowing. I'd have to secretly hand it to the cashier with a wink and a nod.

It was on. My date and I arrived at the front counter of the ice skating rink where we were greeted by the cashier. "Two please," I stated confidently. I then slipped her a five and one bill, with the coupon folded inside. I pointed at something to distract my date as the cashier unfolded my money and removed the coupon.

"Sorry, this coupon isn't effective until next month." Time stood still, while the word "coupon" rang loud and clear to me, my date, and everyone behind us in line. It was like an echo down a canyon: "COUPON, COUPON, COUPON..."

I knew the dang things had expiration dates, but commencement dates?

My date looked at me with sorry eyes while my mind raced in terror. She was looking at me like I was unable to pay for the date. I looked like a kid at a 25-cent gumball machine, trying to shove a nickel into the quarter slot: kind of cute, but also kind of sad.

So as I sat in the Sonic Drive-In with my wife, I crumpled the coupon in my clenched fist and called out our order. "Two shakes please, at full price."

I paid double that night, but sometimes that's the price of keeping a little date-night dignity.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Warning:

The post below (The Gift Cycle: I want out), despite it's healthy dose of cynicism, was written tongue in cheek. I exaggerated heavily to make a point about something I deem important.

Please know that I, the author, still love all the presents I've received and will receive. I also love Christmas, birthdays, and fluffy penguins--I'm not the cold hearted cynic the tone of the post implies I am.

Thank you for your loyalty to my blog.

Rock