After Snow Day In New Mexico

After spending over 2 hours shoveling snow in the driveway…..

I got stuck just as I backed onto the street.

Then I got stuck at the bend in the road.

Then I got stuck trying to back up to go home.

Then I got towed to the paved road by a 1949 Farmall tractor.

After that it was smooooooth driving to town.

(Insert a buffet lunch and Costco shopping trip here.)

Then I almost got caught in Albuquerque because they closed the Interstate again.

But my majikal mystery navigation system (MrsTroll) got me around things to the roadblock where I told the officer that I lived in the East Mountains and he waved me on through.

It was a nice drive until I got to my road again, so I made a beeline to the driveway and parked in the worst place possible.

Now I will talk a StepTroll into shoveling the other driveway….

And sleep through the beginning of the New Year. I am POOPED!

Snow?

The garage now has enough space in it for the new truck.

And a good thing too…..

There were about 6 inches of snow on the ground when I got the garage cleaned enough to get the truck inside. I only got stuck once while ‘seeing how it handles in the snow’. (Hanging my head in shame.)

Now there is about 22 inches of snow on the ground, and it is STILL snowing. The highway into the city is closed, the alternate route is closed, and I managed a run to the store last night in the Mrs.’s truck.

At this rate we will be snowed in until the New Year.

I am wondering if this is a bad thing.

Camel trading gene

The phone rings. I answer.

MrsTroll, “Do me a favor, will you?”

Me, “Sure.”

MrsTroll, “Get in the big truck and bring it down to (insert car dealers name here).”

I few hours later I was driving a new diesel pickup truck home.

The Mrs. had gotten a bug in her ass, stopped at a local car dealer, exercised her camel trading genes, and gotten a good deal on one of those year-end closeout sales.

I had been having issues with the V-10 truck because it does not really have the power to pull The Doghouse. It did OK, but if a headwind came up the gas mileage dropped to 5-6 miles to the gallon and speeds went down to 50 MPH.

We had been talking about getting a diesel truck for months, but could not get a deal that we both wanted and could afford.

Until she got that bug in her ass, that is.

So yesterday I drove the new truck to the lake, a trip of about 300 miles round trip.

The new truck gets MUCH better mileage, drives well (Even in the snow), and is very quiet for a diesel truck (Actually it is quiet for any pickup truck), and has PLENTY of power.

So what does this all mean?

I may be in love, and now I am going to have to clean the garage.

Just a little head cold

This has been a week of general sickness in the Trollhouse.

It all started with the MrsTroll getting one of this year’s series of virulent head colds that are tearing the economy into little shreds by keeping people at home due to copious amounts of snot, itchy eyes, coughing, and sneezing. She has had it bad with the voice of a chain smoker and the sleeping habits of a hibernating bear.

Then one of the cats began a festival of eating, puking, then eating again, making walking in the Trollhouse a dangerous business in bare feet. I have learned that half digested chunks of kitty kibble make for treacherous footing.

After that began, one or both of the dogs started leaving dark brown dollops of doggie diarrhea on the off-white carpet in the living room. These smell like the doorway to hell and are almost impossible to get up. They cause stubborn stains and even after repeated dousing with carpet stain remover leave a lingering aroma of sulfur and stockyard.

Then I got the mysterious head cold and whined and complained until the wife left for the day in order to not listen to me. (One damn smart woman.) She returned with vast amounts of medication for me. (And far more patience than I deserve.)

So far the StepTrolls have not gotten sick, but they don’t so much live here as drop by to visit and mooch. (And one of them drank more than half of my medication.)

Life is returning to normal now. The Mrs. is better, I am better, and the dogs are reduced to just incredible farts that can actually wake me up from a sound sleep. The cat is still celebrating her festival, but she is small and warns us now when she is about to share her last meal and gives us time to put a paper towel under her. I suggested a reverse diaper thing, but was overruled.

At this rate, we will all be relatively healthy for the beginning of another year of my bitching about everything.

Another work friend

I think I have another new work friend…..

This contender for the idiot of the month club comes from the union hall and considers himself quite the good carpenter. He is more than happy to tell you just how damn good he is. Come to think of it, he seems to spend more time telling you how good he is than actually proving how good he is.

He can’t seem to follow direction. (Even if it is really easy, like, “Do it like this.”)

He complained that he was not invited to the company Christmas party. I had to point out that he was not even working for us when all the arrangements were made for said party.

He seems to think that the company should give him tools and accessories that the rest of us have bought from our own pockets for OUR convenience.

He spends lots of time wandering the project for whatever reason. I see him in all sort of inappropriate places. When confronted he will tell you that he had to go to the bathroom. Too bad the bathroom was thirty feet from where he was working and he was seen three floors way in another wing of the building.

He can’t seem to do the same thing the same way twice in a row. We are presently installing a lot of “cookie cutter” stuff where there are many rooms that are alike or very similar. He changes the way his installation looks from room to room.

He is very EMOtional and sensitive. In the workplace this is just like having a huge sign painted on your forehead saying “PICK ON ME!!”

Now he can’t even seem to show up for work. He has been gone three days this past week due to snow. He lives less than six miles from my house and I have made it to work on time every day. I have even been driving my little car while he drives a honking big 4-wheel drive diesel truck. I don’t think he has worked a 40 hour week since he started.

I am thinking that soon we will be talking about this fella in the past tense and telling tales to future workers as an example of what not to do.

But on the bright side, he does give me someone to make fun of!

Another teen rant

Just after midnight the Mrs. awakened me with a simple question.

“How much did you drink out of this bottle?” she asked, holding up a half full bottle of Jack Daniels.

“About two drinks worth.” I responded with a sinking feeling in my heart.

It would appear one of the StepTrolls drank just about a half bottle of Jack by himself for Christmas eve. That is more than I have had in the past 2 years.

So it would seem that his mother and I got what every parent wants for Christmas;

To have it shoved in their faces that their 16 year old is a thief and an alcoholic.

It’s things like this that make me love Christmas.

Last shopping day

I think this time of the year brings out the worst in people.

If you don’t agree, just go to the local shopping center or Wallyworld on this last shopping day before Christmas.

Greedy, self centered, pushy, ill-mannered louts are everywhere to make your shopping experience as unpleasant as possible.

Greed spreads like a cold in a daycare center while normally sober adults get incredibly drunk on giving and spend themselves into another year of stress over credit cards and general debt.

If I have to listen to “The Little Drummer Boy” on the public noise pollution unit one more time I may just go postal and take the life of any random stranger with more than five packages in hand and a vacant smile on his/her face.

That would probably get me in a more holiday mood….

Gifts

Oh bloody forking hell.

It’s that holiday season again and the wife-like unit wants to know what in hell I want as a gift.

My response of “music” did not fit her needs. (I do have abstruse tastes in music.)

What do I say? I want anger management classes to get better use out of my anger?

I already own just about every tech type gadget, gizmo, and doodad that I can figure out how to use.

I have just about every damn thing that I could want, until I go to the store and see some weird tool, gadget, or ultra-kitch object of desire. Then I go into denial and tell myself that it is the last thing I really need and pointedly ignore the thing and go away. After that I forget that I ever liked the thing until I see it again. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

Let the annual holiday stress begin.

Wife-like unit had made it VERY clear what she expects me to surprise her with. This is probably appropriate seeing as the last “GREAT’ gift that I bought actually caused her great pain and possibly injury.

I never was good at gifts. I just seem can’t get them right.

So that’s what I really want; I want to learn to actually LIKE the holidays and the whole gift thing. I want to have one or more seasons where there is no stress or confusion. I want to be able to give an appropriate gift and drop subtle hints for receiving a gift that I might actually appreciate.

Not bloody forking likely.

All creatures make merry

I think I will go all out for Christmas decorations this year.

We have never really decorated the Trollhouse and it’s about time I addressed this issue and did the deed.

I have plans. Real plans for the lighting and the decorations that will make this house the envy of all the neighbors.

I am reconstructing one of those wire lawn deer with lights to look like a dying Rudolph, gut shot and bleeding out his life in red twinkle lights while kicking his death dance instead of bobbing his head like that lame ass grazing deer most people put in their yards.

A brightly lit Santa blasted from the roof is my idea of Christmas cheer. Sound effect gunshots and screams will delight all the neighbors. A loud dull thud at the end will help make the illusion more memorable.

A plywood cutout of a hunter taking out the red nosed deer and his master with a large caliber rifle shall be placed on the roof to make the illusion complete. (Including simulated muzzle flash and recoil.)

I won’t describe my particularly tasteless nativity scene, but let me assure you that it should offend just about everyone. (Let me hint that the wise men may have been wise, but even wise men have needs.)

To top the whole thing off, I am going to do a twinkle light single finger salute on the garage door that flashes only every five seconds to give it the full effect.

A lighted tree is deemed necessary, so I have a plan to turn the tree upside down, literally, suspending it from the power line feeding the house just in case someone would want to steal it. Nothing says Christmas like fried thief on a burned, lighted stick.

I bought one of those huge snow globes that are on the market this year, but simply HAD to get inside and see what makes it work. So while I was there I changed the scene inside to Santa performing a vivisection on good ol’ Frosty with blood and gore in full color. (I must say that I am particularly proud of the look of anguish that I got on ol’ Frosty face.) Just for contrast I made all his insides red. (I always have had a thing for red blood on stark white snow. Maybe I was a baby seal clubber in a past life. I also appreciate the lifelike texture that raw liver gives to any scene.)

And last but not least, a banner with my new holiday slogan;

ALL CREATURES MAKE MERRY UNDER PENALTY OF GUILT

Chicken will never be the same

Yesterday I went to the local chicken joint in order to pick up a bucket (or the local equivalent) and feed whatever family members might actually show up for dinner.

After enduring the drive-up lane for an insulting amount of time I made it to the remote communication monolith and placed my order.

“I want a ten piece dinner with beans and potato salad.”

“Would you like that fried or rotisserie?” the speaker scratched back at me.

“I would like it half and half”, I replied.

“Would you like six fried and four rotisserie or six rotisserie and four fried?” the tower of impersonal communication asked.

WTF????  The last time I checked, half of ten was five, not six and four. I was almost speechless. At this point I was crushed and gave up on all humanity.

“Six fried”, I told the faceless box of confusion.

When I arrived home and opened the box that I now had a certain emotional investment in, I learned that I received all fried.

Chicken will never be the same to me.

Computer fun

I was talking to a fella at work the other day that had an interesting tale to share about computer ignorance and what kind of trouble it can get you into.

It seems that when his wife is not around, he (like millions of others) likes to browse the Internet for Porn.

One day he found a picture that he found particularly fascinating; a close up shot of an open and wet vagina. He decided that he would print this snapshot to use later when he was feeling lonely and ‘using the self service pumps’.

He hit the ‘PRINT’ button and nothing happened. He hit it again. In a flurry of frustration and male impotence he hit the button again and again. Still nothing. Giving up, he turned of the computer and went about his day.

Later that day his wife came home and turned on the computer and then changed the empty printer cartridge. It began printing the picture that was still waiting in the computer. It printed that picture twenty seven times in glorious lifelike color.

She was not as taken with the picture as he was.

She did, however, save one copy, carefully pinned through the most sensitive of female areas with a pushpin, above the computer desk as an object lesson.

Jimmy Neutron's Mom

The Mrs. called late last week with the news; “Jimmy Neutron’s Mom is working at (insert national cafeteria name here)! You HAVE to see this!”

(For those of you that are wondering who ‘Jimmy Neutron’ is, he is a preteen child genius cartoon character with a big head, big brain, big hair, and an even bigger ego.)

The woman that the Mrs. wanted to show to me did in fact look remarkably like Jimmy Neutron’s mom. So much so that I started called her Mrs. Neutron. The lady either did not appreciate the joke or did not understand it. Such is life.

Frankly, I was not in the mood for much joking anyway. The crowds were getting to me and my fellow patrons put me in mind of a drug rehab center cafeteria. The stench of life’s losers was all over the place, and it has only been open for a few months.

There is something about this season that brings out the homicidal trends in me. I am not a happy camper, and when "The Little Drummer Boy” comes on the infernal noise pollution unit in the ceiling I just want to throttle the next drug addled fellow patron that I see.

I did manage to control my rage until we left, but by then even the Mrs. was looking for a handgun dealer with that look on her face that guarantees that no one in his or her right mind will ever sell her a gun of any kind.

When I was secured safely in the car I could relax a little, but not much until we were out of that seedy neighborhood.

It really is a good idea to keep me away from people this time of year. It would just take one playing of “It’s a Small World After All” to set me all postal and crazy(ier).

I am convinced that this holiday season brings out both the best and the worst in people, and I usually see the worst. Shopping becomes and endurance test of my patience. The public becomes myopic and insensitive, not seeing what is going on around them or just not caring one little whit. People become incredibly quick to anger and greed becomes a force of nature as powerful as wind but not quite as forgiving.

My new holiday season slogan is a take off of something I saw on a really bad movie, but sums up my feelings nicely:

ALL CREATURES MAKE MERRY UNDER PENALTY OF GUILT