So, it's been two weeks since my birthday, and even though I say I don't feel any older, I find myself spending money on fertilizer and weed-killer. I just had two days off in a row (very, very rare for me), and I spent it doing yard-work and getting the pool swim-ready. I remember the days when I would purposely screw up the yard so Dad would do it, and now I don't want my kids to help because they'll fuck it up and I'll just have to do it over.
The pool is a mess. I've never had a pool before. I guess it's normal to uncover 10,000 gallons of swamp water at the beginning of spring. After two days I can finally see how filthy the bottom of the pool is, at least on the shallow end, and it's actually starting to smell like a pool.
The first thing I did when trying to start the filtration system was fail to realize that the jets for pumping the water back into the pool were plugged. In my defense, I couldn't see them through the Great Dismal Swamp. Then, the booster pump was missing a plug, so it flooded my backyard and lowered the water-level too much. I had to run the garden hose in the pool for nearly four hours to raise the water an inch.
The trees in my backyard are a huge pain-in-the-ass. As soon as I scoop everything out of the pool, the wind blows more crap off the trees. I'm going to cut everyone of them down. With scissors if I have to. I hate them.
A duck started coming around and decided the pool would be a good place for a swim. Not much later, she was joined by a male companion, and then another (slut!). I'm pretty sure I witnessed duck-rape today. One of the males tried to get it on today, but she was have none of it. After she freed herself from him, she chased him away, then bitched about it very loudly in the backyard for about an hour. She pisses the cats off. Later on in the evening, both males were back, joined by a second female. The ducks have decided that I'm no threat, so when I go out back, they just swim to the other side of the pool and yell at me. I'm going to hit them with rocks until they stop coming back.
There are people everywhere now that the weather has warmed up (it was 85 today!). They walk together, they walk their dogs, they ride bikes, they push their babies in strollers, and they wave and say hi if you happen to be out in the yard when they pass. Is this what people do? It's okay, I suppose, but if any of those little fuckers on skateboards fails to move out of the street when I'm driving again, I'm just going to run him over.
I've realized that while I hate my job and the business in general, I like being outside and doing yardwork. I'm going to quit soon.
By the way, duck poop floats.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Who says getting older can't be fun?
This might turn out to be boring for everyone else, but feel like reliving the evening's events for my own amusement.
Saturday was my mother's 50th birthday party. Let me preface this by saying that in my family, get togethers generally suck. The food sucks, and everyone just sits around and looks at each other. If there is a fair amount of alcohol going around, it's makes most of the family unbearable, especially my mother. It can be pretty excruciating. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to going. But go I did, and let me tell you, I have never had more fun around my family in my life. Ever.
To be fair, there wasn't a whole lot of family there. I'll try to remember the guest list as accurately as possible, though it won't matter to most of you anyway. My parents, my sister Jessica, her boyfriend David and his brother Steve, my Aunt Elaine and Uncle John, Aunt Rita, my dad's best friend (since 4th grade!) Albert, his ex-wife and about half of their 738 kids, including Lola, who I haven't seen in 20 years (and who looks pretty damn good), some of Albert's grandkids, a couple people dad works with, and lastly, my mother's best friend Pam and her son Patrick, who I also hadn't seen in 20 years or so. They drove from Tennessee to be there. That might be it. Oh! and Michelle. Now onto some of the highlights of the evening.
First, I arrived an hour late, hoping everyone would already be drunk and I could make a hasty exit. When I get there, my sister and Patrick are lining up Irish Carbombs. Well, this night may be a total loss after all, because those of you who really know me know my passion for an Irish Carbomb or 4. I decide I should at least have a beer first, so I go out onto the deck and there's a swimming pool full of Sam Adams. What, you mean it's not just Bud Light and Corona? Score!
So after a couple of beers and an Irish Carbomb or two, I'm feeling okay, mingling a bit, generally being the life of the party. I go into the kitchen to see my parents doing "Tic-Tacs". Apparently this concoction of Absolut Mandarin and Red Bull is supposed to taste like an orange Tic-Tac. I didn't partake, but my parents are throwing them back. Instead of getting annoying, however, my parents have really loosened up and are having fun. It's still really early in the evening, mind you.
I head into the dining room to gorge myself, because usually eating is all there is to do. I notice the music has cut off, and instead of listening to Santana 8 times in a row, I remembered I had my cds in the car, and I saved the evening with Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and The Rolling Stones. The old folks are going nuts, especially since Jimi was live.
About the time I get back from the car with the cds, my father, Pam and Patrick are on the front porch. Well, apparently, Dad and Patrick had been in the backyard smoking weed. That's right. Now, I know my father did some shit when he was younger, and I know he smoked well into my teenage years, but he would NEVER have done it with us around or allowed us to know about it. On top of that, he did it with Patrick! Hell, I remember when that boy was in diapers. Anyway, I'm sure he expected me to be appalled to know he had been out back hitting the bowl, but instead I leaned toward Patrick and said "Why wasn't I invited to the party within the party?" The look on dad's face was absolutely priceless.
About this time, Steve is in the middle of going shot-for-shot, beer-for-beer with my Uncle John. Now, Steve is in his early 20s and is a United States Marine. Uncle John is closing in on 70 and hasn't been in great shape for, oh, 40 years. This turned out to be a huge mistake for Steve. The kid passed out on the couch before midnight and never moved another inch.
I will, at some point, be providing video of my mother and Albert dancing to "Under My Thumb" by The Stones. It's pretty damn funny.
But first, we are not done with the weed. Next thing I know, I'm in the backyard with Patrick, Pam, and my mother (my mother!). It was my mother who made me go. This however, is only the first episode. Later, Mom and Pam decide it's a great time to introduce Jennifer to the joys of getting high. Having never done it, she had no idea what to do with the bowl. Never fear, Aunt Rita is here. She's giving step-by-step instructions, and it's fucking hilarious. She's 60, for Christ's sake. Everyone is in the backyard being loud as hell, yelling things like "Hurry up and light it" and "Puff,puff, pass bitch! What are you doing" (that may have been me). And yet, no cops were called.
Next came the story-telling. This is a ritual at family gatherings, and probably the worst part. We've been hearing the same old stories for years and they just aren't funny anymore. Ah, but they are not the same old stories when you throw Pam into the equation. And me, being the life of the party that I am, kept the crowd going for quite some time. It's not often I laugh that hard or that much.
After a couple of Johnny Walkers (Gold!) with my father (wait, he doesn't know I poured myself another!) the party started to settle down. It was quite an unusual, and enjoyable, evening. Oh, except Elaine was really pissed at John for getting so drunk, but man was he funny. She didn't get pissy with everyone else, though. Rita managed to get through two conversations about Mary Beth without completely breaking down and having to leave. I enjoyed my sister's company, her boyfriend, by all accounts, is a genuinely good guy (a rarity indeed), my parents had a great time, and they're not going to be able to look me in the eye for a long time! Oh, and Pam is absolute riot.
Oh, and they tried to make me promise not to tell Eric, but I informed them that everything was going into the blog.
Maybe I'll remember more.......maybe not
Saturday was my mother's 50th birthday party. Let me preface this by saying that in my family, get togethers generally suck. The food sucks, and everyone just sits around and looks at each other. If there is a fair amount of alcohol going around, it's makes most of the family unbearable, especially my mother. It can be pretty excruciating. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to going. But go I did, and let me tell you, I have never had more fun around my family in my life. Ever.
To be fair, there wasn't a whole lot of family there. I'll try to remember the guest list as accurately as possible, though it won't matter to most of you anyway. My parents, my sister Jessica, her boyfriend David and his brother Steve, my Aunt Elaine and Uncle John, Aunt Rita, my dad's best friend (since 4th grade!) Albert, his ex-wife and about half of their 738 kids, including Lola, who I haven't seen in 20 years (and who looks pretty damn good), some of Albert's grandkids, a couple people dad works with, and lastly, my mother's best friend Pam and her son Patrick, who I also hadn't seen in 20 years or so. They drove from Tennessee to be there. That might be it. Oh! and Michelle. Now onto some of the highlights of the evening.
First, I arrived an hour late, hoping everyone would already be drunk and I could make a hasty exit. When I get there, my sister and Patrick are lining up Irish Carbombs. Well, this night may be a total loss after all, because those of you who really know me know my passion for an Irish Carbomb or 4. I decide I should at least have a beer first, so I go out onto the deck and there's a swimming pool full of Sam Adams. What, you mean it's not just Bud Light and Corona? Score!
So after a couple of beers and an Irish Carbomb or two, I'm feeling okay, mingling a bit, generally being the life of the party. I go into the kitchen to see my parents doing "Tic-Tacs". Apparently this concoction of Absolut Mandarin and Red Bull is supposed to taste like an orange Tic-Tac. I didn't partake, but my parents are throwing them back. Instead of getting annoying, however, my parents have really loosened up and are having fun. It's still really early in the evening, mind you.
I head into the dining room to gorge myself, because usually eating is all there is to do. I notice the music has cut off, and instead of listening to Santana 8 times in a row, I remembered I had my cds in the car, and I saved the evening with Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and The Rolling Stones. The old folks are going nuts, especially since Jimi was live.
About the time I get back from the car with the cds, my father, Pam and Patrick are on the front porch. Well, apparently, Dad and Patrick had been in the backyard smoking weed. That's right. Now, I know my father did some shit when he was younger, and I know he smoked well into my teenage years, but he would NEVER have done it with us around or allowed us to know about it. On top of that, he did it with Patrick! Hell, I remember when that boy was in diapers. Anyway, I'm sure he expected me to be appalled to know he had been out back hitting the bowl, but instead I leaned toward Patrick and said "Why wasn't I invited to the party within the party?" The look on dad's face was absolutely priceless.
About this time, Steve is in the middle of going shot-for-shot, beer-for-beer with my Uncle John. Now, Steve is in his early 20s and is a United States Marine. Uncle John is closing in on 70 and hasn't been in great shape for, oh, 40 years. This turned out to be a huge mistake for Steve. The kid passed out on the couch before midnight and never moved another inch.
I will, at some point, be providing video of my mother and Albert dancing to "Under My Thumb" by The Stones. It's pretty damn funny.
But first, we are not done with the weed. Next thing I know, I'm in the backyard with Patrick, Pam, and my mother (my mother!). It was my mother who made me go. This however, is only the first episode. Later, Mom and Pam decide it's a great time to introduce Jennifer to the joys of getting high. Having never done it, she had no idea what to do with the bowl. Never fear, Aunt Rita is here. She's giving step-by-step instructions, and it's fucking hilarious. She's 60, for Christ's sake. Everyone is in the backyard being loud as hell, yelling things like "Hurry up and light it" and "Puff,puff, pass bitch! What are you doing" (that may have been me). And yet, no cops were called.
Next came the story-telling. This is a ritual at family gatherings, and probably the worst part. We've been hearing the same old stories for years and they just aren't funny anymore. Ah, but they are not the same old stories when you throw Pam into the equation. And me, being the life of the party that I am, kept the crowd going for quite some time. It's not often I laugh that hard or that much.
After a couple of Johnny Walkers (Gold!) with my father (wait, he doesn't know I poured myself another!) the party started to settle down. It was quite an unusual, and enjoyable, evening. Oh, except Elaine was really pissed at John for getting so drunk, but man was he funny. She didn't get pissy with everyone else, though. Rita managed to get through two conversations about Mary Beth without completely breaking down and having to leave. I enjoyed my sister's company, her boyfriend, by all accounts, is a genuinely good guy (a rarity indeed), my parents had a great time, and they're not going to be able to look me in the eye for a long time! Oh, and Pam is absolute riot.
Oh, and they tried to make me promise not to tell Eric, but I informed them that everything was going into the blog.
Maybe I'll remember more.......maybe not
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