One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Trash

     Ah, the Power Wheels Jeep.  I remember when Santa Claus brought it . . . in pieces.  First off, I am tired of that fat bastard getting credit for all of the good presents.  Here Lukah, Santa got you a Jeep you can drive and mommy and I got you a digital photo keychain.  I'm sure her 6 year old brain was thinking "those cheap bastards!".  So I spent half the night assembling and drinking.  Hell, there was a sheet of decals the size of a movie poster.  It took me longer and more beers to put all of those on than to assemble the damn thing.  A few may have come out crooked but I think I was pretty crooked myself towards the end.  It came out all right though and she loved it.  Her and Cal actually sat in it the whole time at Christmas and unwrapped all of their presents from there.

     I was kind of expecting a "Thank you for this summer present that we can play with 5 months from now" (ha, take that Santa) but they were thrilled anyway.  When they finally got to use it in the Spring, they loved to get it going full blast down the driveway and then let off the gas spinning it into a 180.  

     They spent countless hours driving it even way past the point of being too big for it.  In fact, I'm not too sure Mikah wouldn't have driven it to school a few weeks ago when her car was in the shop for a week, just to have her own wheels.   The sad news is that is now not an option as the Power Wheels Jeep died over the winter.  I charged the battery and nothing would happen.  There really was no way for me to tell where the problem was with the battery, charger, or just the wiring so we had to just let it go.  

     Since the youngest kid had actually outgrown it about 4 years ago, I did not want to pump any money into it.  If I could be sure it was just the battery, I might have saved it for the next garage sale to try to get $2 back on my original $250 investment.  I held onto it most of the Summer but finally got tired of it taking up so much room in the garage.  So, this garbage day, I set it out by the trash.  Now for the gripe.  

     When I woke up in the morning, it was gone.  I'm sure it was absconded by one of the p.m. pickers that trolls around in the darkness taking people's old broken lawn chairs and such.  What annoys me is that how do they know that my kids didn't just park it there for the night?  I had no sign on it saying "Take me, I'm free."  Shouldn't they have at least asked then?  Just because something is within 30 feet of my garbage can does not make it fair game for the taking.   I about turned into Stanley Stupid (Watch at least the first minute).

                             

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dW8kKTvS53w

     Sometimes I think of all the money I've wasted on garbage bags over the years because I think that if I just placed all of my garbage loose on the sidewalk, it would all be gone by morning.

Insult Letters #4 (Animal Themed-not planned)

If you all have been following my blog, then you know that my sister and I trade insult letters in our office mailboxes.  This has been going on for years but at the rate Annie supplies them, I should be able to catch up to the present in no time.  I guess that's what I can expect from a mentally unarmed foe.

Touche

KNOW, I DUNT WONT TWO GIV ME CHAYNGE FER LITTERASEE

     If any of you shop at Dollar General in Clinton, then you have to be as SICK TO DEATH as I am of being asked to give your change for literacy.

     I have never given my change to literacy and for the thousandth time, I will never give my change to literacy.  I don't care if one of those adorable little Dicken's peasants was standing there with a book and a moth eaten hat to drop change into, I am not giving mine to literacy.

     Bah humbug.  I don't know what "donate for literacy" means and I don't want to know what "donate for literacy" means.  Let them buy their own damn books.  I think I'm going to get a shirt made that I can put on and point to every time I go in there.

     I have had 98 cents coming before and they ask me if I want to donate it.  Now, doesn't that defeat my whole purpose of going to the damn dollar store to begin with? That would totally deplete any savings that I might have incurred by shopping there as opposed to the more hoity-toity Wal-Mart where I am expected to wear shoes and am not asked to fork over any silver coming my way.  All of my coinage by the way goes into the console of my Jeep and then it is cashed in every year at vacation time for our extra spending and souvenir money.  You wouldn't believe the amounts that this has gotten me.  Let's just say "hundreds" every year to not encourage too much any would be thieves that might happen to be perusing my blog.

     Sometimes when I refuse their offer to relieve me of that cumbersome change, I get a look that is supposed to shame me.  Today, I think they took it to the next level.  The cashier said, "And here's your change, 31 cents" and then handed it to me.  I took one step away from the register and looked down at 11 cents in my hand.  I'm not too sure it wasn't a "We'll get that cheap bastard's literacy change one way or another".  

     They were not getting away with this, so I turned around and told her that she said 31 cents but only handed me 11.  Now, I'm good at math, but I am dumbfounded as to how a math problem of this caliber can completely throw an adult.  There were many options to get me the Hell out of that store.  You could hand me 20 more cents or possibly take back 1 of the nickels and hand me a quarter.  The possibilities were endless.  

     So, what happens you say?  She takes back all of my change and just kind of scoops her hand in the drawer and hands me 49 cents for some reason.  Turns out there was another way to get me out of that store.  Give me MORE change than what I had coming back.  Take that literacy!  Little Timmy in the hood ain't readin' shit tonight.  

     Yes, I did keep it.  I wasn't going to stand there all day while she tried to figure out how to make 31 cents.  I wasn't sure if it was a math problem or a money problem but if you can't do 2nd grade math, then maybe you shouldn't be a cashier and if you can't count money, then maybe you shouldn't be a cashier.  

     Don't get me wrong.  I don't mind people helping people but don't make it an EXPECTATION from me.  Also today, believe it or not, I couldn't believe I had the wrong change thing go in my favor AGAIN.  I was buying an $8 sticker for the car and was given back $3 change from my $10.  I would like to think that she was just being nice rather than that she couldn't subtract 8 from 10.  Yes, I kept that too.  I had wasted enough of my day on the money illiterate.  Here's a thought.  Maybe Dollar General should give up on the literacy and set a change bucket out for math instead.  Then I might donate.

Illinois Weather

     Don't be alarmed everyone.   I'm sure like me, you were wondering what this strange, clear liquid was coming down from the Heavens.  Well, I looked it up on dictionary.com and it's apparently. . .

rain

   [reyn]  Show IPA

noun

1.

The wet shit that used to fall from the sky in Illinois in drops more than ¹ / ₅₀  in.(0.5 mm) in diameter. Compare drizzle ( def. 6 ) .

Supposedly, my surroundings should look like this occasionally...

And less like my yard looks when the jolly fat man dishes out the good gifts...

     Don't get me wrong, I have not missed the mowing one bit.  I seriously think I have been spot mowing since mid July.  I fully expect camera crews to show up to start filming Charlotte's Web 2 on my lawn mower. 

     I knew there was at least a sprinkle of rain, though, because the dog was looking to burrow his head under any piece of furniture he could find.  On a more annoying note, he came and whimpered to me to go out as I'm typing this.  I got up to let him out and he just stood there staring at me like I was crazy to think that he would step one foot out there with a potential to get one drip on his fur.  So after a few mutterings of "dickhead", I gave up and sat back down to type.  

     On the walk back to the laptop, I could feel him on my heels.  Sure enough, the second I sat down, there he was whining to go out again.  Evidently, in the 4 seconds it took for me to get back to the couch, he mustered up the courage to risk getting misted on for the sake of not shitting in the house.  What a testament to courage.  

     After some "son of a bitch" name calling (he was not offended; apparently this isn't an insult to a dog), I got back up and let him out.  This bout of bravery reminded me of when our neighbor came in to retrieve a spare house key for my wife and our "watch" dog at the top of the stairs raised his head, gave her a blurry, squinty eyed glance and then laid his head back down.  Evidently, somebody needs to explain the "watch" part to him a little better.  Now,  back to the story.  

     Of course, when he came back in, he had muddy feet.  I haven't seen that all summer, except for one time when I backwashed the pool filter.  Now, he's deaf so he can't hear me yelling at him to stop and wait for me to wipe off his feet with the towel we keep by the door.  He used to just automatically stop and wait on his own (which was actually kind of cute) but it's been so long now, I think he's forgotten.  Don't you just love Illinois weather?  This is an actual screen shot of the Clinton, Il forecast last week.

     100 degrees one day (in SEPTEMBER mind you) and then 2 days later, only 78.  This is the definition of "WTF?".  I'm just gonna put on my winter jacket and shorts and be done with it.

That Weird Feeling

You want to know what gives me the heebie jeebies worse than Fran Drescher's voice.  Okay, nothing gives me worse heebie jeebies than that.  I just have to stop here for a moment because I think it's hilarious that SpellCheck has marked "heebie" as being spelled incorrectly but "jeebies" is okay.  Back to what drives me nuts.  It's when one of my fingernails gets a little jagged and then it snags on my clothing.  Once that happens, I then get a bit of mental illness going because even though it drives me insane, I become obsessed with snagging it then.  The only way to stop myself is to cut that nail. Thank God I keep nail clippers on my key chain.  Don't believe me?

I'm not weird.  I was just a high school wrestler and they checked your fingernails before every match. That way if they needed cut, I had my own pair right there.  It just stayed with me through adulthood.  My daughter Lukah once gave me a disgusted look because I pulled them out at her softball game and cut my son Callahan's nails.  We were outside for God's sake.  You know "outside", right?  Where horses shit freely and people are still actually allowed to smoke.  Yeah, that "outside".  I did notice a few weird looks besides hers, though.    These same people that give me a weird look will then turn around and ask to borrow my clippers 5 minutes later when they encounter their own fingernail snag.  As you might have guessed, the dreaded jaggernail happened to me today so I cut it.  

You probably noticed that little scab on my middle finger.  That is one of those little loose skin areas that you decide to pull instead of just cut with the clippers.  Then you pull, and pull, and pull, and it finally breaks off about the elbow leaving you holding a bloody piece of skin the size of a strip of bacon.  Anyways, there is something I just don't get about cutting just one fingernail.  Why the Hell does it make your whole hand feel so awkward then?  That whole area will just tingle then for days.  How does cutting the tiniest sliver of a dead, non-sensitive body part cause such a bizarre feeling?  You might say, "But Corey, then why don't you just cut all of your fingernails?"  My answer to that is that it's "premature".  It's not time yet in the rotation.  If I do that, then I have to check my toenails, too.  It just turns it into a whole production.  Usually, it wears me down and I do it though.  Not this time.  I'm gonna stand tough. 

Dammit!  I'm so weak.

Not For the Weak Stomached, It's . . .

"They were only stuck 3 hours.  Not really sure why they started eating right away since they had just left Panda Express.  And why did that guy just happen to have barbecue sauce?"

-Roger Ebert, Chicago Tribune

"They were in a glass elevator for Christ's sake.  They could see the repairmen working on it."

-Gene Shalit, Today Show

"I go to my Scoliosis doctor tomorrow."

-Andy Rooney, 60 Minutes

Great Invention #1

They scoffed at me when I put it on my Christmas list.  I was shunned by the non-handyman types in the family.  I was mocked by those that consider themselves the younger, "hipper" faction in the house.  We mock what we don't understand.  However, when I got it and put it on, they saw how completely cool I looked.  I think mockery turned to envy.  Here I am wearing it.

It is the headband light.  For anyone that has ever tried to do plumbing under a sink with a flashlight propped up against a box of tampons, there is no greater invention.  In fact, I just used it to replace a light fixture in a windowless (and tampon boxless) foyer.  It's much easier to connect white to white and black to black when you are not in complete darkness.  Even if it's just a kid wanting to play "coal miner" or absconding it for flashlight tag, the uses never stop.  It is like having a 3rd hand holding a flashlight.  Now, if someone could just invent something to be a 4th hand to scratch my nuts when my other 3 hands are tied up under the sink.