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9:39 p.m. - 2006-03-09
So THAT'S Where You Get It....
Last weekend, BFRB and I, feeling the call of the ROOOOO, decided to venture forth into the wilds of Oklahoma City in search of tie-dye sarongs and/or camping gear. Our journey led us to the flea market.

You know, when you see really fucked up clothing, or toys, or home decorations? The things that you wonder where the hell people got them? Look no further than your local swap meet. Things we saw there included:

  • A t-shirt which, no lie, said "If your so cool, where's your tattoo?"
  • Scrolling LED pendants and belt buckles
  • Cowboy boots in a variety of shades that are guaranteed to make your head hurt when you look at them (including royal blue, turquoise, purple, pink, red, and orange, most of which were made of some lovely fake ostrich skin)
  • Lots of "tobacco water pipes"
  • Incense, the combined aromas of which really DID give both of us a headache, and which caused us to smell like cheap whores when we got back in the car
  • Lots of really cheep and skeezy lingerie
  • Frightening chartreuse macrame plant hangers that had to have been almost floor-to-ceiling height
  • Many, many Louis Vuitton purse knockoffs
  • Knives. Lots and lots of knives, including one in the shape of a bat.

We did take the camera, but unfortunately, taking pictures would have marked us as "not belonging." Plus, due to the crowdedness of the booths, it would have been impossible to zoom in on individual objects.

However, as we were leaving, we saw this:

Here's a closeup of the trailer hitch(es): (Unfortunately, due to the angle of the car, etc., this didn't come out as well as I hoped. Me being a horrible photographer has NOTHING to do with it. There are three penis-like protrusions.)

And here is the car next to them, which I think the folks driving it were living in:

Speaking of things that come in threes, I started my new job today...after THREE motherfucking interviews. This is exactly one month from the day I first interviewed with the firm. Way to make snappy decisions, ya'll.

In the period between the third interview and them finally fucking calling me, I was discussing the situation with BFRB2. Her sister has been job-hunting, and has had similar experiences...interivew. Call back for second interview. Call back for third interview.

I can see the first interview being kind of a pre-screening, to make sure that you're not drooling, lying, mentally unbalanced, annoying, or otherwise not in possession of basic skills. I can see the second interview being the actual asking tough questions, meeting with the bigwigs one. But three? That's just stupid. It almost makes you start questioning whether you really want to work for these people, if they can't make up their minds after three hours of your life. (Also, the extended interviews caused me to get a damn parking ticket. The meters by the building have an hour limit. Asshats.)

However, since I needed a damn job, and since it actually sounds like it might be semi-cool, I have tried to push aside my misgivings. My headhunter person told me that apparently, some of the delay was because the decision-makers were in trial. (Well, arbitration, really, but it's kind of the same basic principle.)

It's nice to be hanging out with someone who is as much of a dork as you are. Case in point: I hung out with Lando on Tuesday. What did we do? Went and bought Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on DVD, of course.

Finally, a tale of plumbing.

GEB lives in a condo, which is basically a one-bedroom apartment, upstairs. A few months ago, his downstairs neighbor wrote a letter to the homeowners' association complaining of a leak. GEB, being a broke law student, shoved a receptacle under the dripping toilet tank to catch the drip, and proceeded to ignore the shit.

At this point, I should state that GEB's dad really owns the condo. So, last week, the homeowners' association sends a letter to his father stating that the leak is still not fixed. GEB lies to his dad and tells him the problem is taken care of, because he replaced the innards of the toilet.

Therefore, GEB makes the panic trip to Home Depot, and buys the toilet innards, and replaces them. Since this actually did not present any difficulties, GEB then decides that he might as well just ... REPLACE THE WHOLE TOILET.

This may sound unnecessary to you. To me, even. But I guess that he's also been trying to retile the bathroom, and the part around the toilet requires tools that he does not have, and so I guess he figured that if he replaced the toilet, he could put the tile down and kind of cover up any ragged edges with the new latrine.

This is also where things went wrong.

First, when he pulls off the old throne, he discovers a disgusting and nasty sewer pipe. He doesn't know if he should clean it out, replace it, if it's supposed to look like that, or what.

A day or two passes. He does some research, goes back to Home Depot, asks some questions, and determines a course of action.

Then he attempts to lay the new tile, and discovers that the subfloor under the toilet is all rotted and nasty.

Another few days. Some phone calls. Some discussion of a contractor. Some purchasing of floor filler. A phone call asking if he can come to my house and take a dump. (I don't even want to know where he's been peeing.)

Finally, an attempt at installing the new Porcelain God takes place...and the pipe where the water shutoff is (the one coming out of the back of the toilet...breaks off.

More consultations at Home Depot. Apparently, it's easy enough to replace the pipe...but you have to turn the water off outside in order to do so. GEB does not want to inform the neighbors that he's doing this, because he actually TALKED to his downstairs neighbor and told him that the problem was being addressed. (The neighbor was cool...the leak is noticeable, but not serious, and the neighbor just wrote nasty letters to the homeowners' association because he thought they were the ones that had to fix it.) Plus, he's afraid that he will screw it up, or take too long.

He's going to call a plumber...when he gets paid next Friday.

In the meantime, I guess he'll have to take his shits somewhere else.

If this had happened to me, I would have written a hot check to the plumber the first day. However, this would probably NOT happen to me because (a) it's stories like this that make me ever so happy to be a renter and (b) I know better than to try any stupid home improvement shit. I did that...once. I replaced a thermostat. Here's how that went down:

(1) Buy new thermostat at Evil Empire.
(2) Go home, remove thermostat from packaging.
(3) Take old thermostat off wall.
(4) Look at wires, contact points, and instructions.
(5) Start connecting wires.
(6) Realize that there are more wires than contact points on new thermostat, even though it looks EXACTLY LIKE the old one.
(7) Read actual PACKAGE. Discover that this is a "heat only" thermostat.
(8) Swear a lot.
(9) Go back to Evil Empire and purchase correct type of thermostat.
(10) Go home, double check package, remove thermostat.
(11) Attempt to connect wires.
(12) Realize that one of the wires will not reach the contact point on the new thermostat.
(13) Swear some more.
(14) Go to hardware store and whine to cute salesboy.
(15) Salesboy gives me 6 inch piece of wire and two ginormous plastic connectors, and doesn't charge me for them.
(16) Return home, use giant connectors, get all wires properly attached.
(17) Realize that hole in wall for wires is no longer large enough, because of the stupid-ass connector thingies.
(18) Swear some more.
(19) Leave thermostat crooked. It's not THAT bad.
(20) Have large drink.
(21) Landlord eventually fixes problem.



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