Category Archives: Show Offs

Well, There Goes the Neighborhood

*adjusts tiara, tightens gloves and poises fingers over keyboard*

Well, I’ll be damned.

CNN Money has named the little town I live in as one of the “100 Best Places to Live: 2011”

There’s going to be no living with us now.

We’re going to need a whole new wardrobe, and hair and nails and you know while we are at it we will need new furniture.

And the paint…sigh…it’s totally wrong for the new furniture.

And the floors!

Definitely have to change those. 

While I’m at it, our car is getting on up there in mileage, and the ashtray is full….

Sigh….the price we pay for celebrity. 

But, look…isn’t it worth it?

This is either a golf course, or someone's lawn with a serious case of grub infestation. Which a town as awesome as ours wouldn't have in the first place, so it must be a golf course.

It’s All About the Inadequacy, Folks…Oh, and Elephants

Soooo…you think you’re a pretty talented artiste, eh?

Harumph.

This is awesomesauce.

Yeah, he did that…with one hand.   I can hear any dreams I had of being remotely talented gasping for breath.

It’s a dog’s life on Facebook.

A really, really, really big dog’s life.

Which has absolutely nothing to do with this little gem from Africa.

It only proves my point that elephants may never forget, and they hate cars. 

How those two relate, I don’t know.

 

That’s the Kind of Behavior You Don’t Normally See In A Major Appliance

“Why is there blood dripping from your freezer?”  My son-in-law asked, Sunday, as he came in from the garage carrying an armful of water and soda.

“WHAT?!” Was my thoughtful response.

“Blood, there’s blood on the floor and it’s coming from the freezer.”

Anyone who says keeping a body in a freezer is a good idea has never lived through a Texas summer with a freezer in the garage.

Not that I have, or had, a body in the freezer.  Just sayin’…the idea did cross my mind, but not that way..it crossed my mind in a way that would make me laugh at anyone who said it was a good idea. 

I walked out to the 200 degree garage and looked.  Sure enough, not only was my one year old freezer bleeding, it also seemed to have become slightly incontinent as there was a puddle of water on the floor too.

Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot.

I opened the door and most things were still frozen, the one exception being some kind of gamey ground meat – wild pig or something – that had been given to us a long time ago from someone who thought it was summer sausage.  Since it wasn’t summer sausage, and giving it back was just not an option, I had left it in the freezer hoping it would simply disappear into some sort of time/space portal.

It didn’t.  It did, however, thaw and start bleeding all down the side of the door and onto the floor.

Sigh…I mourned it’s demise, but didn’t actually clean it up.  Maybe I was too heartbroken, or lazy.

One of those.

I went inside to tell Mr. Fix-It (hubby)…really, given enough time and tools he can figure out and fix most anything  – just the day before he’d taken apart, troubleshot, and repaired a $30 weedeater.  My solution, to these little conundrums, is to go to the hardware store and purchase a shiny, new thingamajig to replace a broken thingamajig, but not Mr. Fix-It.   Thank goodness.

“Oh yeah, this happened once before.  Was the red light flashing?” He asked.

“Red light?” I said, dumbfounded.

“Yes, the red light on the front control panel.”

I blinked.

He rubbed his brow, “Okay, on the front of the freezer, there’s a number.  We usually set it on ‘5’, and right above that is a light.  If the freezer is too warm the light flashes red.”

“Really?  I didn’t even notice.”

“That is what happened last time.  I’ll unplug it for a few minutes and then plug it back in and see what happens. That’s what worked the last time.”

Hubby went out into the garage, confirmed the flashing red-light thingy and reaching around the back of the freezer, he unplugged the machine. 

The freezer went off, but so did the fan and other refrigerator, plugged into a  completely different socket in the garage.

Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot.

From this, seemingly random act, I drew the only logical conclusion.

Apparently, hell bent on punishing us for spend nearly $60 on PEZ the day before, the appliance and electrical gods had conspired in that moment to get even.

‘ — they spent $60 on PEZ –‘

‘ — it’s alright, we’re going to fry a few circuits in their house in 3…2….1…  –‘

See, that’s the trouble with the electrical/appliance gods, you just never know when a madcap PEZ-buying spree will  bring down their wrath.  Had I known, I’d of arranged for all this to happen in February.

Now, even *I* know that if a circuit has the little “GFI” tag on it, which translates to, “now-you’ve-done-it-and-have-to-find-which-circuit-is-tripped-and-push-the-little-button-back-in”, you start the scavenger hunt for the tripped circuit.  The socket the freezer had been plugged into had the GFI tag on it, but no little pushy-button thingy.

The hunt began.

All GFI outlets in the  house – up and running?  Check.

All breakers in box – up and running? Check.

Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot.

Meanwhile, the freezer’s bleeding and peeing had become more noticeable.   I put newspaper down and proclaimed that part of the operation complete. I considered, momentarily, drawing a chalk outline around the stains but hubby’s growing frustration made me think twice.

This is what my outline would have looked like, only less anatomically correct and more freezer-ish.

We had food packed into both the refrigerator and the freezer, and by now the garage was  250 degrees and rising.

Hubby decided to hook extension cords to the refrigerator and freezer, run them inside to the utility room and plug them in to prevent the beer from getting warm a total loss of all the food inside.  When we plugged the freezer in the red light had stopped it’s flashy-thingy, so hubby’s original hypothesis was proven correct.

Monday morning I called our local, and highly trusted, master electrician. 

“Huh…and you checked ALL the GFIs in the house?”

“Yep. Unless one is in hiding.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Fifteen years, and we’ve made no changes to the electrical.  The house was new when we bought it, too.”

“Huh…well, it sounds like a GFI has tripped..or maybe it’s the socket itself.  Either way I can figure it out. I can come out there at 2:00 today, if you want.”

“Okay, so I’ll see you then.  And please, can you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please don’t come in, flip a switch and declare it done. Make me feel good, spend a few minutes scratching your head, and then flip the switch and declare it done.”

“Ha! Ha! Okay, deal.”

I just know, for $400 this guy is going to find a breaker we missed, flip it, and be done in fifteen minutes.

Wonder if he’d consider knocking some off the bill in exchange for a nifty PEZ Batman dispenser, and two rolls of assorted fruit candies?

Wurrrrrrrrrrd!

Yes, I STOLE This Meme…Deal With It!

“Cuz, you know, ninjas.”

Look at that up there.

Isn’t it awesome?

Who cannot relate?  (a show of hands will do, unless…you know, you are a ninja and then I’m not going to see you unless you take off the black hood-thingy)

And, who couldn’t use this as an excuse for….oh…EVERYTHING.

“Why were you speeding?”

“Why are you late? Again?”

“What happened to the last of the _________(fill in the blank – pie, espresso, aged brie, gin, Xanax)?”

“Why didn’t you finish____________(again, this is good for multiple uses – your homework, the yard, the laundry)?”

Yes, it’s my go-to excuse from now on. 

Just don’t tell any real ninjas.

Or do.

It won’t matter, I’ll never see them coming…cuz, you know….ninjas.

Ninjas start young, don't they?

Overachievers

Everyone knows at least one…possibly many, many more overachievers.

They’re the people, usually women, who can simultaneously bake a seven-layer tres leches cake, build a fort with sticks and mud in the back yard and sew costumes for the entire fifth-grade class’ production of  “Camelot”. 

I know plenty of overachievers, and do not count myself among them.

If I tried to do the above, the fifth-grade class would be covered in milk, the fort would be made out of cake batter, and the cake…well, I guess we all know about the cake.

It’s a lie.

So, instead of attempting to overachieve I simply attempt to be adequate or even mediocre. 

I’m pretty good at it, actually.

Which brings me to my point.

Not only do I have to live with the mockery of overachievers, I’ve begun to notice this same pattern of behavior in my daily interaction with machines.

Case in point, my printer.

Whenever it prints, scans, copies or answers the phone and delivers a fax, it announces to the world its wonderful achievement with a grand flourish of music.

Every.Single.Time.

Every.SINGLE.Time.

And, if that’s not enough I recently replaced my coffeemaker with one that beeps melodiously when it finishes what one can only assume is the perfect pot of coffee.   It also beeps two hours later to remind me that, in my mediocrity, I have forgotten to turn it off and it has saved my house from being burnt to the ground.

I have decided that overachievers leave the mud forts every day just to design and build these machines.

Their goal?  To mess with me.

I’m onto you folks. 

Doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.

Hey, I have a reputation to uphold after all.