Tuesday, March 25, 2014

First World Problems

So, as I occasionally do, I decided it was high time for that first pool/spa cleaning of the year.  It was an unusually warm early Spring day (sunny and 80 degrees), and since the pool/spa was suffering from winter neglect, I figured today was the perfect day.  First thing I was going to do was vacuum out the spa.  However, this presents a problem because only after I've started my chore in earnest do I suddenly remember the vacuum head is broken.  What to do?  All is lost, right?  Well, if you have duct (often popularly called "duck") tape, the situation is never dire ("If you can't duck it, fuck it"), and nearly any crisis can be resolved.  Duct tape cures a great many ills...and this was no different.  Ladies and gentleman, I give you "the ghetto pool vacuum system".  Rejoice in its splendor and beauty!

Also, since we're talking pool maintenance, what's with the cryptic instructions with pool equipment? "Zodiac G3 pool sweep starting and stopping?  Possible solution: realign the Ferguson valve next to the parabolic hyphenator, and make sure the grommance chamber is aligned at a 22 degree angle with the satellite fed electron beam.  Once synchronized with the lunar cycle, chant to Poseidon the incantation of clean waters and hop on one foot.  Test for leaky protons, and immerse molybdenum o-ring with ground unicorn horn and pixie dust.  If that doesn't work, smack it with the hammer of Thor, but only after ensuring electron beam is now aligned at 24.3 degrees off center." 

Anyways, pool was all sparkly clean when I got through with it yesterday (duct tape did its job for the spa portion), which pretty much guaranteed that today the temperature would drop 20 degrees with a gale force wind and a storm on the way.  My pool now, once again (thank you neighbors with untrimmed trees), currently looks like the Okeechobee swamp.  Better check for 'gators and rednecks.  Time to set the traps with deer carcasses and Pabst Blue Ribbon (equally effective for both 'gators AND rednecks) and see what bites.* 

*Not my first lamentation about my ability to bring on foul weather by the mere act of cleaning my pool.  See "I have superpowers" blog from 2009.  

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Life lessons at the liquor store...

So, I'm at the liquor store.  I have a purchase in mind (Glenfiddich 15 for those of you who are curious).  When at the liquor store, I like to take my time and window shop and see if anything new, exciting, or exotic has been stocked since my last visit.  I slowly go up and down the aisles, taking in all the bourbons, Scotches, Irish, ryes and Canadians.  As I'm doing this, a nattily dressed gentleman of about 70 years of age briskly walks into the store.  He immediately goes to one spot ignoring all the other glistening bottles around him.  He grabs one very specific bottle of something (a Scotch of some sort...I didn't look that close...it all happened too fast) and makes a beeline to the register.  He pays and directly leaves.  Time in store from selection to purchase to exit?  About 47 seconds.  This guy knows what he likes, and doesn't have time for all the other superfluous bullshit.  He's probably been drinking the same whiskey for 40-50 years, and could give a rat's ass if another brand has an essence of honeyed heather or has been aged in port barrels.  He simply doesn't have the time for such meaningless distraction.  "Listen junior...are we having a dram?  Or are we pulling our dick?  You want to go "shopping"?  Then perhaps you'd be better off looking at shoes with your lady.  You want a drink?  Get in.  Get out.  Go home.  Pour two fingers (all things in moderation) and begin."  I had the impression this guy was the Yoda of distilled spirits.  I had to fight the urge to go over and shake his hand.

Although there's a fair chance this guy may be an alcoholic, I was left pondering on the greater philosophy that his approach to whiskey purchasing reflected...especially with romantic relationships.  Find one you truly like, stick with it, and be satisfied.  You can go on some sort of Quixote-like quest endlessly searching for perfection and undetectable nuance (triple matured in two kinds of oak and finished in three kinds of sherry casks!), and hold onto the belief that different is always better.  It's not.  It's all just marketing...even with people.  Different is different, and not always better...and sometimes far worse.  If you truly know yourself, and are capable of making rational, mature, as well as heartfelt, decisions, the odds of you continually finding something better are non-existent.  So, really, stop fucking around, grow up, and start really enjoying life.  Stop continually wondering what is just around the corner, and start enjoying what's actually right in front of you.*

* There's probably a joke to be made about enjoying a special someone and "two fingers" (to complete the whiskey/relationship analogy) but I am FAR too classy to make it here...although, safe to say, in my head, I already did.      

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Unintentional irony

Unintentional irony department: Just noticed the small print on a Viagra commercial which states "this drug does not protect against sexually transmitted diseases". It would seem to me that if they were about FULL disclosure, they should have to follow that statement with: "In fact, if we at Pfizer pharmaceuticals are to be completely honest, if you are suffering from a condition that requires the use Viagra, if you avoid our, or other competing, products, we can almost guarantee your STD risk will, in fact, be greatly reduced (if you know what we mean...).  Oh, you DON'T know what we mean? Here's a series of metaphorical graphics to help you better understand..." (the graphics then show a guy on the side of a desert road standing at the front of his car. The hood is up, there's steam shooting from the engine compartment, the car has four flat tires, and the man is holding a piece of broken, limp, radiator hose. He's frustrated, but in one piece without a scratch on him. As he stands there, another similar car goes screaming by with an old dude behind the wheel. It is obvious the old guy is in over his head, slightly panicked, driving too fast, and cannot control the high performance vehicle he clearly shouldn't be driving. He then slams into the side of a cliff and the car explodes in a spectacular fireball)

Anywhoo, when I saw the commercial, this imagery went through my head, and actually made me laugh out loud as I sat on the sofa in my sweats. I dunno, I'm easily amused, and felt compelled to share.