Shelves, Sodas, and Woodwinds.
I think that I am basically done with the large shelf that I started putting together for my DVDs, and now I am trying to figure out if I want to set it up in a public area of my home, or if I want to hide it in my empty bedroom. I did not use any type of blueprint or technique at any point. I just used trial and error, drilled some pilot holes, and drilled some screws into some lumber and plywood. It looks pretty sturdy and stable, but the aesthetic is less than ideal. Maybe it won't be too bad after I get a chance to stain it, but I don't know if I want to put any more work into it. This project has become much larger of an undertaking than I had ever imagined possible.
I know that the phrase "it's a poor craftsman who blames his tools" comes to mind when I say this, but it amazes me how hard it is to find straight wood. If the wood was straight and even, the projects would probably be a lot easier. But this has never happened.
One thing that I will say about my skills as a woodworker is that I am pretty good at building things that are sturdy. The platform that I built for the bed that the antichrist now shares with her husband was so stable that you could walk around on it, and if I was going to go on a gig somewhere, it would have made a hell of a drum riser. It was a bitch to move it, but that is no longer my problem. As much as I love the thought of it happening, the bed is never going to cave in while Rachelle is doing some reverse cowgirl on her husband.
I had a pretty easy time getting in and out of Home Depot today. Normally I think that it is like a "Where's Waldo" game in there when I am trying to find an employee to cut my wood, but this time was no problem. I also saw shellianne and her husband in the parking lot, and had some fun telling them about my project. They are about to move into their new house in about a week, and I know that they are pretty excited about it.
After Home Depot, I went to Firehouse Subs to grab a sandwich, and the girl taking my order wasn't paying attention, and I had to repeat myself a couple of times. I grabbed my chips, and waited around for them to make my sandwich. I got the sandwich, and had to go ask for my drink. I hate it when I have to be pushy to get what I need, but it wasn't that big of a deal.
Then I get to my seat, and start eating. A couple of minutes later, the girl that took my order asked to see my receipt, and when she looked at it, she told me that I only paid for the sandwich, and not for the combo meal. I asked to talk to the manager, and when she came by, I gave her the money, with some curt words. I told her that her employees need to get the order correct the first time, because I think that it is rude to let someone get to their seat, and then bother them for more money. I rarely complain at restaurants, even when I have some awful service (which is very often), but this was unacceptable. If they fuck up at the register, they should just accept it, and let the customers eat in peace. They shook me down for $1.63, but because of this experience, I will probably not go back there for a while. I am not going to sever all ties with their business, but I will always remember this experience when I think about going there.
I went and borrowed granddad's truck to get the stuff, and I get a kick out of the fact that the truck is about 3 or 4 years old, and it still has less than 10,000 miles on it. They let me use the truck while I was between vehicles, so I am probably responsible for about 2,000 of them. I actually took it to have the oil changed while I was using it, and in a little under 2 years, it is still not die for another one. And it is a nice, fully loaded Ranger flareside truck with an extended cab, power everything, and cruise control. It has a CD player in it, even though my grandparents don't own any CDs. I did look in the console, and there were a couple of tapes. There was a Chopin tape, and a Tennessee Ernie Ford tape. It seems as though an eclectic taste in music can get passed from generation to generation.
Whilst over at their house, they told me that they were going to have to have someone come over and hook up their VCR to their new TV, and I was able to do it for them. I think that it is so funny that my granddad is the handiest man that I have ever met in my life, but he can't hook up a VCR. But such is life. He is not great at building or fixing things, but he is pretty good at just about everything...definitely a jack of all trades. Grandma won't let him do much of anything these days, and in fact she treats him like he is totally senile. He was diagnosed with Parkinson's a year or so ago, and she seems to think that he has Alzheimer's. He's not as sharp as he was a couple of years ago, but he's not the bumbling fool that she seems to take him for. I used to be pretty pissed at her about it, but I have just accepted that it is going to be like that, and I should just deal with it...not much else I can do about it.
***
Last night I set the Multiple TVs up so that I could watch the World Series and some movies at the same time. I don't think that I have done that since I was still into wrestling, but it was pretty fun. I might get the chance to watch some more sports now, and not feel like I am getting behind in my rigorous schedule of movie watching.
While I was watching movies last night, I heard this weird whistling sound, and I wasn't sure if it was something on the movie that I was watching, or if it was a fan at Yankee Stadium. George had brought his girlfriend over here as well, and I had also thought that it might have been her snoring back in the bedroom. I finally got up to investigate the whistling, and it was George working on this wooden flute that he had bought. He was plugging up the holes with wooden pegs, and was attempting to tune it and make it playable. It was certainly surreal, to say the least.
I've talked about George from time to time, but I don't think that I have given him too much description. We have been roommates for about 5 years, and it has been a good arrangement. We have some things in common, but we really have our own lives, and I don't think that we have had a single disagreement in all of our time together. Neither one of us are neat freaks by any definition of the word, but both of us wish for the place to be clean most of the time. But this rarely happens, and we are never on each other's ass about it. Our bedrooms stay pretty messy, he messes up the kitchen a lot, and I trash the rest of the house. But we keep the bills at a decent level, we get done what needs to get done, and it works out pretty well.
***
I tried the Pepsi Vanilla last night, and I like it a lot. I have not been much of a soda drinker for the last several years, but I have recently made a foray into it, and I find it quite agreeable.
There was a time when a friend of ours worked at the local RC distributor, and he called us and asked us if we wanted to come get some soda. We showed up with a couple of pickup trucks, and scored about 100 cases of soda, which we stacked up on the back patio. It was a sight to behold. The soda lasted us for a couple of years, and it was a lot of fun. For Christmas, we giftwrapped the sodas and put them under the Christmas tree. During Halloween, we gave 2 liter sodas to trick-or-treaters. And Carter used to throw sodas at cats in the yard. Never in my life did I imagine that sodas would be such an intergral part of my history than at that time.
I know that the phrase "it's a poor craftsman who blames his tools" comes to mind when I say this, but it amazes me how hard it is to find straight wood. If the wood was straight and even, the projects would probably be a lot easier. But this has never happened.
One thing that I will say about my skills as a woodworker is that I am pretty good at building things that are sturdy. The platform that I built for the bed that the antichrist now shares with her husband was so stable that you could walk around on it, and if I was going to go on a gig somewhere, it would have made a hell of a drum riser. It was a bitch to move it, but that is no longer my problem. As much as I love the thought of it happening, the bed is never going to cave in while Rachelle is doing some reverse cowgirl on her husband.
I had a pretty easy time getting in and out of Home Depot today. Normally I think that it is like a "Where's Waldo" game in there when I am trying to find an employee to cut my wood, but this time was no problem. I also saw shellianne and her husband in the parking lot, and had some fun telling them about my project. They are about to move into their new house in about a week, and I know that they are pretty excited about it.
After Home Depot, I went to Firehouse Subs to grab a sandwich, and the girl taking my order wasn't paying attention, and I had to repeat myself a couple of times. I grabbed my chips, and waited around for them to make my sandwich. I got the sandwich, and had to go ask for my drink. I hate it when I have to be pushy to get what I need, but it wasn't that big of a deal.
Then I get to my seat, and start eating. A couple of minutes later, the girl that took my order asked to see my receipt, and when she looked at it, she told me that I only paid for the sandwich, and not for the combo meal. I asked to talk to the manager, and when she came by, I gave her the money, with some curt words. I told her that her employees need to get the order correct the first time, because I think that it is rude to let someone get to their seat, and then bother them for more money. I rarely complain at restaurants, even when I have some awful service (which is very often), but this was unacceptable. If they fuck up at the register, they should just accept it, and let the customers eat in peace. They shook me down for $1.63, but because of this experience, I will probably not go back there for a while. I am not going to sever all ties with their business, but I will always remember this experience when I think about going there.
I went and borrowed granddad's truck to get the stuff, and I get a kick out of the fact that the truck is about 3 or 4 years old, and it still has less than 10,000 miles on it. They let me use the truck while I was between vehicles, so I am probably responsible for about 2,000 of them. I actually took it to have the oil changed while I was using it, and in a little under 2 years, it is still not die for another one. And it is a nice, fully loaded Ranger flareside truck with an extended cab, power everything, and cruise control. It has a CD player in it, even though my grandparents don't own any CDs. I did look in the console, and there were a couple of tapes. There was a Chopin tape, and a Tennessee Ernie Ford tape. It seems as though an eclectic taste in music can get passed from generation to generation.
Whilst over at their house, they told me that they were going to have to have someone come over and hook up their VCR to their new TV, and I was able to do it for them. I think that it is so funny that my granddad is the handiest man that I have ever met in my life, but he can't hook up a VCR. But such is life. He is not great at building or fixing things, but he is pretty good at just about everything...definitely a jack of all trades. Grandma won't let him do much of anything these days, and in fact she treats him like he is totally senile. He was diagnosed with Parkinson's a year or so ago, and she seems to think that he has Alzheimer's. He's not as sharp as he was a couple of years ago, but he's not the bumbling fool that she seems to take him for. I used to be pretty pissed at her about it, but I have just accepted that it is going to be like that, and I should just deal with it...not much else I can do about it.
***
Last night I set the Multiple TVs up so that I could watch the World Series and some movies at the same time. I don't think that I have done that since I was still into wrestling, but it was pretty fun. I might get the chance to watch some more sports now, and not feel like I am getting behind in my rigorous schedule of movie watching.
While I was watching movies last night, I heard this weird whistling sound, and I wasn't sure if it was something on the movie that I was watching, or if it was a fan at Yankee Stadium. George had brought his girlfriend over here as well, and I had also thought that it might have been her snoring back in the bedroom. I finally got up to investigate the whistling, and it was George working on this wooden flute that he had bought. He was plugging up the holes with wooden pegs, and was attempting to tune it and make it playable. It was certainly surreal, to say the least.
I've talked about George from time to time, but I don't think that I have given him too much description. We have been roommates for about 5 years, and it has been a good arrangement. We have some things in common, but we really have our own lives, and I don't think that we have had a single disagreement in all of our time together. Neither one of us are neat freaks by any definition of the word, but both of us wish for the place to be clean most of the time. But this rarely happens, and we are never on each other's ass about it. Our bedrooms stay pretty messy, he messes up the kitchen a lot, and I trash the rest of the house. But we keep the bills at a decent level, we get done what needs to get done, and it works out pretty well.
***
I tried the Pepsi Vanilla last night, and I like it a lot. I have not been much of a soda drinker for the last several years, but I have recently made a foray into it, and I find it quite agreeable.
There was a time when a friend of ours worked at the local RC distributor, and he called us and asked us if we wanted to come get some soda. We showed up with a couple of pickup trucks, and scored about 100 cases of soda, which we stacked up on the back patio. It was a sight to behold. The soda lasted us for a couple of years, and it was a lot of fun. For Christmas, we giftwrapped the sodas and put them under the Christmas tree. During Halloween, we gave 2 liter sodas to trick-or-treaters. And Carter used to throw sodas at cats in the yard. Never in my life did I imagine that sodas would be such an intergral part of my history than at that time.