| Author | Message | ||
     Court |
. . . . . | ||
| Pilk |
Court, Looks like brail, I cant read it. Pilk | ||
| Spiderman |
Go for it dude!! | ||
| Road_Thing |
And I'm going to read again. Maybe we can get synchronized... r-t | ||
| Court |
Court If life has it's "little hills and valleys", which was my Father's way of saying you just did something really stupid, well, then I'm currently in a sub-terrainian category that's ugly and shows nothing but the specter of getting uglier. Vick's off to a conference at some high-falootin' joint where the rooms have "tariffs", not prices, that resemble house payments. She, in retrospect, likely knew better than to leave Jack and I alone. She's no dummy, being from Brooklyn and all. I hold her partially responsible for foolishly leaving Jack and I to fend for ourselves in New York City. How bad?..you really wanna know? Ok...the timeline becomes important, in a way, since you, the innocent, need to understand that we're only 32 hours into our conscripted bachelorhood. Like I said, I expect the folks on the line for the homeowner's policy to be calling with a "that's it, our ass is outta this deal" ultimatum before long. Thursday, at this point in time, seems an eternity away. Yesterday was cool, I leaned on Mom Nallin and was busy monitoring the "State of the Elves" and making sure info got between all the various interests and that you folks who bought the stupid t-shirts knew where your $20 was. You, in an obtuse way, may have saved me yesteday. Think, for the purpose of this example, of yesterday as kind of a Novacaine induced fog...like you'd rubbed a baby's Ora-Jel on your brain. Call the score Court: 0 - House: 0, a dead heat draw. It was today that the cumulative effect of leaving Jack and I alone began to manifest itself and extract it's ugly toll. The ugliness starts in the basement. Long time readers will recall the nasty previous incident when the squirrel got in the basement and I, in a light brained moment, took an errant shot at it with a Remington 870, instantly irrigating that portion of the basement where the 2" incoming water line had been. Looking back, Vick shoulda locked the basement door and secured the power tools when she left. Today started out kinda fun. Aaron's home, rested and quite positive and the Nallin's are having a family celebration to commemorate the first time young "coonass" (their words, not mine) has gone 200MPH anywhere other than a city street. (true, I swear it). In some ways, I wish I had Captain Pete's phone number as Dear Janice Nallin is "whooping up a messa boiled shrimp and taters". I, as somewhat of a scientist, am incapable of grasping what the hell a "messa" is. MENSA?...shrimp THAT smart? No, damnit, a "whole messa". Richard and I talk quite a bit. I'm unsure how often my Kansas accent and his Cajun accent ever allow true communication to take place. Anyway, Capt'n Pete'd know, he's keen on this nautical nomenclature ocean stuff. Fine. . Nallin's are having a good time. The food's 1754 miles away and I'm hungry. But, I'm smart to. I know I want to get the basement door and the landing on the stairs painted in gunship gray to satisfy my "proje-phobia" (loosely defined by Court as the "fear of running out of home projects to do"  and my keen grasp of the chronology of predecessor/successor events tells me that I can apply the paint, go upstairs to cook and allow the paint to dry whilst I ply my culinary skills. We're gonna do just fine, I assure a tentative looking Jack. The latches come off the door to the backyard and the paint's a flyin'. First the door, then the landing. Note to self: remember to step OVER landing portion on the way upstairs. We're gonna be fine Jack.... No... really.. we are. Paint down, it's time to cook. I whoop out a 12" Clad-o-Copper pan and toss in a burger. I, for the record, have a quite limited repertoire of things I can cook (read as: hamburgers and eggs) so I alternate them, toss that baby in the pan and pour the coal to that baby. About now Jack (have we mentioned yet, that he is a dog?) needs to go out. Recalling, in one of the brilliant moments of the day, that the stairs have wet paint on them, I take Jack out the front door, around the side porch, open the gate and put him in the back yard (you're sharp enough to recall that the backdoor is standing open, having just been painted, right?) and head back upstairs to check on the burger. Burger looks fine but, as a person forced to read Stephen Covey, I can't just stand there and LOOK at food cooking. What to do? That's it, the coffee cup. Yesterday Vick took her favorite coffee cup, a big ugly ceramic 1/2 quart thing, when I drove her to the airport. In the ensuing gymkhana style event that occurred with an Acura on the way home, I sent it airborne, thus breaking the delicate handle off. I was relieved to find a nice clean break, begging to be super-glued, thus leaving no trace evidence for a domestic process I refer to as "Forced Forensic Confession". I'll just take this idle moment, snag the glue from the junque drawer and fix 'zat baby while the dog does his chores and my burger cooks. Damn things cookin' slowly, so on the way to retrieve the adhesive from hell, I crank the burner up and get the glue. Just as I start squirting, I hear the damnedest racket and realize that the neighbors frickin' cat has entered the basement, through the open door. I set the cup down and run to the basement. I'm not, by nature, mean to animals and the "Cat-A-Pult" patent application was a joke, but let me just say that I hate pussy! (hey, I didn't name the cat, the neighbor did) I, with a mixture of adrenaline, vigor and sheer glee, chase the cat from the basement, out the door and around the corner. Just as I put my hands on hips "there I showed you" pose on, I see Jack head in the door. I'd just about cleared the door myself, as I heard the smoke alarm up stairs. And, I damn near caught him before he made the stairs. In fact, I was close enough to see him pass through the .02 mil thick layer of wet gray paint on the way to Vick's prized Persian Rugs in the dining room. Fortunately as my hands hit the landing, as I stumbled in my pursuit, Jack's paws had previously pretty much removed most the wet paint and my palms suffered no more that a light coat. The 100# Jack, now alarmed and suffering from greatly diminished trust of me after what I did to him, as he slept, with the Halloween Scarecrow last week, is in high gear. I catch the glimpse of him in my right eye and the flames in my left. In a mental game of "paper, scissors, rock", in a nanosecond I conclude that Jack is a nuisance, BUT the fire is a problem. Fortunately I'm no dummy. There's a fire, there's a cup right there on the table and a faucet nearby. Undaunted by the sound of the screeching smoke alarm I reach for the cup and damn near break my arm. What the ?????. . . the thing is secured fast to the beautiful tabletop by a messa (I've come to understand the term during the course of the day) Super-Glue. You with me boys and girls? The same high tech compound that suspends that construction worker from the I-Beam now has Vick's favorite coffee cup fixed, ostensibly in perpetuity, to her favorite Italian tile table. The "what's a nuisance and what's an inconvenience" triage' thought process is growing more difficult now as I realize that flames are bad, but burning to death may be better than explaining this coffee cup situation...no wait...better than explaining the carpet. Gang, Richard Nallin was never in near the danger I am, from myself, for the next 4 days. Bob Villa may you get wrapped up in an extension cord and fall on Norm! Court | ||
| Tripper |
Well I was hungry, but now my belly hurts from laffin... | ||
| Road_Thing |
Court, I'll send you a bill for my keyboard, I just snorted about $5 worth of nice merlot into it. I'm not even gonna try to clean it out. You should write more and cook less... No, even better, I'm going to assess you with a "fine" of my own. $25 and you have to wear the shirt.  See what I mean about "coonasses"? When you and I were young, that word could have earned you a muddy ass-whuppin'. Today, they use it on themselves as a term of endearment! Plus ca change... Of course, you'd gladly take that whuppin' over what's gonna happen if you don't get the cup unstuck from the table. r-t | ||
| Buelliedan |
 | ||
| Bluzm2 |
Court, You old dog.... I too have a hosed down keyboard!!!! Sumitt Pale Ale to be exact (same as I left in the fridge for you in Co last year). Guess I'll have to let it dry and see if I need a new keyboard. Hmmm, maybe better wipe down the monitor..... I thought I was the only one that was ever cursed with odd chain of events like you describe. Sometime I'll have to tell you about the open gallon of paint on the stairs on a ladder event... Maybe next year in CO? I'll buy the first round. BJ | ||
| Peter |
Bets are on. Will the house still be standing in four days, or will Court get smart and move to a hotel for the duration....? | ||
| Pilot |
Court Mate,Big Wucking Forries Mate,Vickie reads Bad Web,You are in so much doo doo,You need snorkel and flippers to get out of this one,Call in one of those environmental clean up teams,book a motel room with facilities for the pooch and lay low for a while.Best of luck Mate. | ||
| Court |
Words of Wisdom, they were...You should write more and cook less... I have just set out to cook what was to have been an cheese omelette. I'll spare you the details, other than to say it vaugely resembled a sunburned copperhead that had been stomped with golf shoes on a hot asphalt highway. In the event I starve to death, could someone come feed Jack (he's a dog)? Hey, speaking of which, anybody SEEN Jack? Laugh if you will you callous souls, this is an ugly scene here. Court | ||
| Road_Thing |
Court, just follow the "gunship gray" footprints...there's Jack! r-t | ||
| Court |
Well....the carpets are being tended to by trained professionals today. I had visions of a "Cat in the Hat" style series of events the day Mom went to the store and things "got pink". Question of the hour.....and I am NOT saying I needed to.....but, just say, in the event I, for purpose of conversation, did need to remove some "residue" from a pricey sauce pan that I was ordered, at one time to never touch", which would be best sand blasting or bead blasting? I have to, er...I mean if I HAD to do this, I'd have to have it to Vinny's Body Shop on Targee at 4:40pm this after....I mean hypothetically. By the way, you may add to your list of things that had OUGHT to work that don't ...soaking expensive copper clad sauce pans in H2SO4. In many ways, I am an innocent victim. Court | ||
| Peter |
Buy a new one Court. | ||
| Road_Thing |
Court, were I in your shoes, I think I'd just buy a NEW pan, place it lovingly back where the old one came from, and swear on a stack of Bibles that I'd been eating Chinese take-out and pizza for the last few days! H2SO4?? Are we talking battery acid here? I can envision a whole series of events here that may, ultimately, involve NYFD and result in the forced evacuation of your immediate neighbors. Methinks you doth protest too much...you may be a victim, but your innocence is highly suspect! r-t | ||
| Road_Thing |
Yeah, what Peter said... | ||
| Blastin |
Court, Take your Copper Sulfate CuSO4 solution down to your local friendly plating company and ask if they can replate the poor helpless pan. You see H2SO4 is made up of 2 H+ protons and 1 SO4-2 ion. When in solution, like battery acid, the 2 H+ and the 1 SO4-2 ion are kind of floating around togther but not quite attached until something better comes along, more like a close association. Enter Cu+2. the SO4-2 ion is very happy to see Cu+2. They get together and a very happy union takes place, much better than the silly little fling that the 2 H+ protons and the 1 SO4-2 ion had previously. Now depending on what grade of H2SO4 was used there could be many different outcomes, mostly very bad. Battery Acid= BAD IDEA for fine copper plattings. Court, my man, I think it's time for some shopping, a bath for Jack, and take a look around for your knee pads(to crawl into Jack's doghouse in the backyard) Jerry P.S. Thanks for the levity in the day. It sure helps. Not that it is fun for you. The wonders of Chemistry never cease to amaze me, or embarass me on a daily basis | ||
| Court |
Oh shit.....hey Jerry?...if you are so frickin' up on the valencing act Mr. Deluxe Chemistry Set, why the hell didn't you tell me EARLIER that battery acid produced, as a by product, FLAMABLE HYDROGEN GAS. Is "Jack-Inberg Blimp" a word you guys understand? You want levity? I'm low on time now, remind me to tell you the story of Tom Hewitt mixing the crystal Drano with the Magnesium powder. It's having experiences like this in my past, that allow me to laugh as the current situation pales in compariosn. Court | ||
| Blastin |
Good luck with your unscheduled appointment. | ||
| Road_Thing |
"FLAMABLE HYDROGEN GAS"---I knew it--NYFD is or will soon be at the Canfield abode... Perhaps someone should call the SPCA on Jack's account, too. Sic'em, Jack... r-t | ||
| Dino |
Excuse me for asking, but is this the same 'Court' as he who is the "MANAGER" of Team Elves? Does anyone else find this scary? Didn't I hear that he was planning to be at Bonneville next year? You know, actually on site! Does anyone else think this may not be WISE? Will there be proper supervision available?(though, I must admit that NYC could, perhaps, use a break) | ||
| Court |
Dino: Relax....I'm only in charge of "site coordiantion and firearms" And, besides, it's nothing new. Old timers recall the nasty scenario that involved guns and a real nasty situation when I tried to sneak out of my house to meet Buell and Kittrelle early one morning for a track day. I still that one, from 1995, in the archives, but will spare you and your keyboard the milk through the nose gig. By the way, stuff like my old "Holiday from Hell" when I accidently, attempting a "cultural immersion" experience for two Mutant Offspring, ended upugly, after taking a wrong turn in the 'hoods of East St. Louis. I consider a great deal of this to be statistically related to venue. I am the victim of my enviroment really, in many ways just a passenger along for the ride who records these events. Someone once said "how do you dream theis stuff up?", to which I replied "hell, I was there and saw it". My point, is that I've worked my way into and out of these ugly little, well "Unilateral Domestic Skirmishes" before. Ya know, you'd think it would take a least 2 people actively engaged in any pursuit to like destroy a place. I'm doing it single handedly with no intention or effort. At this point, I've abated any hope of having this place in some sort of condition I can explain upon her return. I've, instead, opted to pull tufts of hair from the dog and scatter them in the vicinity of visible zones of collateral damage. Jack,who under the "Quid pro Ribeye" doctrine. exhibits elevated tolerance levels fro what,to the untrained eye, could be construed as absue I stuck some to the paint on the carpet. Anyway, I'm considering an option I'd describe as "humanation" whereby I ease myself into a trance like state similar to hibernation and assume some sort of homeostatic state of suspension. But, there's a downside there as well. You ever left a pissed off Italian gal from Brooklyn stranded at the Aerodrome? See my predicament? I am the guy that "damned if you do and damned if you don't" was composed for. My solace lies in resigning myself to two things. 1) Most incidents can be ascribed to the ill mannered Jack. 2) I'm not Ferris By the way, I have restricted all communications with the outside world to computer. I can home today and the phonebook was opened to "Outcall Poodle Escorts of Brooklyn" and there were paw prints all over the fluffy number wearing the 2 pair of Poodle thigh highs and the frickin' mutt forgot about caller I.D. If you want me you can try to call, but if a dog answers...HANG UP. I'm trapped in my own house. Court (do you guys' neighbors stand over the fence with a garden hose when you BBQ?) | ||
| Pammy |
Court, may I suggest an industrial size tube of chapstick for the ass-kissin that will commence when the little woman gets home? If you need a supplier, contact me...I buy in bulk. As for the 'blame it on the dog' scenerio. I am way ahead of ya there amigo. People think I am a wonderful person, an animal lover extrordinaire, because I carry at least 2 dogs(most of the time, it's 3) with me wherever I go. You get my drift here, right. P.S. cats work well too... | ||
| Dino |
Court: "Site co-ordination and firearms" Firearms?!!! Good God, man, you're a walking, talking terrorist act armed with naught but a hamburger patty - and they let you near firearms? I'm pretty sure that Eddie the Eagle would require that all triggers be locked AND all firing pins be removed. My condolences to Jack in these difficult times. I trust that you are not attempting to cook those payola steaks. I think that if I were you, I'd run face first into the wall a couple of times and then wander into a nearby precinct house pleading amnesia. Of course, since Vick will undoubtedly see your figurative fingerprints all over this one, I would say that you're about to share the fate of the burger. Were it not for the fact that I mentioned in an e-mail to Ferris that he should check out this thread, I would note that I'm sure that all of us who know FB share solace #2 with you. BTW, did you know that the old fart's house just had close call #3 (this year!) with raging infernos. No wonder you two are old buds. Well, perhaps I'll head for the archives and tiptoe thru the musty memories looking for other stories of un-natural Court-astrophies. Perhaps tomorrow I'll sell my insurance holdings as a precaution against unforeseen losses. Not covered by MetLife or Geico, are you? Best Wishes, Dino | ||
| Anonymous |
Jack--wherever you are--call me--I'm lonely...  | ||
| Dino |
BTW, Court...Does that "victim of your environment" sh*t get you any farther with Vick than it does for me with Wonder Woman? Didn't think so. | ||
| Court |
Right off the bat, I'd prefer we avoid the use of the term "industrial" as Porter-Cable, a firm that I'd blindly placed my trust and confidence in to go a long way toward solving my instant problems, only served to exacerbate things late this afternoon. It's a long story, but at this point it will be absolutely necessary to replace the pan tomorrow. Dino, you, a mere child, have so much to learn. First, even I am of sufficient cognative capacity to know that no one charges into a NYPD Precinct House. Long story, but trust me that they have a great deal in common (don't ask) with the The Lou Sterret Most Modern All Glass Walled City Jail in Dollars, Taxes. You ratted ME out to Bueller? Dude.....he, in the early days of thh empire,4 Z9artaxs before the Gloxons fended off the Naybids in the Revolution, was my young apprentice. I'm learning alot this week: Toluene is worthless for removing gray paint from dogs and Persian rugs, nor is it an acceptable (to Bob the neighbor, anyway) BBQ starter. Such is life.... Court | ||
| Pammy |
Ahhh, toluene...that explains alot. Were you using it in a closed environment. There's your excuse..."but honey, I was just cleaning the brushes with this here toluene, and I don't remember the rest". "Yes the dog was with me"(exonerates Jack). | ||
| Dino |
No, no, Court...you got it wrong. I said CHARGE into a WALL, then WANDER into the precinct house. Still bad? I dunno, I'm just an innocent country bumpkin. But I sure am enjoying the stories 'bout life in the big city. |
