Or just as lame, depending how one looks at it.

Took a break from painting the endless Poles of Hilarity to acquire household appliances yesterday. Now I am running them all at once. Mwahahahahhahahah! Dishwasher, washer, dryer, and -- well, actually I'm attempting to make head or tails of the floor cleaner thingy. The Man is renovating like a madman, and I have hope that soon I will no longer live in a mottled green bedroom with one dark purple accent wall. The rant on the former owners of this house and their taste -- or lack of it -- really deserves its own post at some other time.

How did people deal before appliances? Six months of washing dishes, the laundromat, and scrubbing a house full of tile on my hands and knees (the cat barfs a lot) has driven me around the bend. Around the bend for me, and that's saying something. Can you imagine me 200 years ago? Let's just hope I was a man. Or brain-damaged in some way. Or had the mad love for the washing of things. Good God.

Hell, one day of this shit even with appliances and I'm over the novelty. Whoo hoo, I'm a grownup with appliances yay. Time for the cabana boy with little umbrella drinks in my universe. As I recall, I wasn't so thrilled with playing house in kindergarten, either. There was this bossy girl who tried to make everyone else eat her Play-Doh food (it's non-toxic, after all. Hell, I bet her cooking to this day is non-toxic, too). There was the weird kid who ate her Play-Doh food. That game got old fast.

The good news is that we will have clean clothes and dishes for the first time since Gulf Wars (stop saying "eeeuuw," I can hear you from here, dammit). The only downside of the fun of running all the appliances at once today was now there's no hot water for either of us to take a shower. Must re-think this idea of "appliance fun."

When your significant other reaches the point where he (or she) hates his job or his boss so much he either needs to quit or he’s going out on a roof somewhere to shoot out a busload of kindergartners, you got some options.

or maybe it's just me, I don't know )
For those of you who have been unable to find me lately, either this post will clear things up or send you around the bend, I don't know. First, though, I feel compelled to share a new icon I made (and the much better accompanying animation) inspired by [livejournal.com profile] syrjustus' fabulous theory that commander-in-chief is actually a secret identity for a superhero:

There's a size limit to making an LJ icon, but I decided the Justus man needed that one -- hence the crippleware version above.

As for the rest of you... )

I'll surface eventually. If it's important, email me. In the meantime, I know that Fr-Ozone image is stuck in your mind forever. Haha.

EDIT: Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] scascot , the little animation has gone viral already. And when I posted the below on YouTube, it got a crazy amount of hits before I had finished entering the damn description. Go figure what people will click on. Or, for that matter, what shiny objects I will be distracted with in the midst of a graphics feeding frenzy.

What monkey crack was I smoking where I thought we'd have this house redone this winter? Ahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahah. Right now I am listening to the soothing sounds of The Man knocking out another wall. Actually, it's really fun to take a sledgehammer to one's house.

I grew up believing that it was illegal to touch the wiring in your house, East coast union thinking and all. Idaho changed my life, what with trying to renovate a 100 year old house stapled together out of old milk caps. It's somewhere in between here in sunny Texas, and it doesn't hurt living with my own building contractor.

His favorite joke? Any time one of the utilities insists on their "approved contractors" lists, he is that list. Mine? Any time we rip out a wall, not only are we going to find a dead body, but it's gonna be a load-bearing body and we're gonna have to work around that fucking thing, too.

Seriously, have I mentioned that the previous owners watched too many episodes of Trading Spaces? I suppose in the end that's actually a good thing, because at this point if it looked halfway decent in here I'd be tempted to leave it the hell the way it is rather than trying to redo it right as opposed to half-assed. But since the walls look like crap there's a high motivation to erase the hideous so I don't have to poke out my eyes.

The appliances they left here are cursed. You know, if you piss off a witch doctor, you should just make amends. Not dump your hexed belongings in your ugly house and sell it to some unwitting victim so that someone else has to suffer from your stupidity. You think he won't find you where you go? You think that gris-gris won't follow you? Morons. Besides, we'll just call [livejournal.com profile] vikingtatter  and she'll walk us through the exorcism, at least as far as gas-fired appliances go. She's da bomb, no pun intended. [livejournal.com profile] vikingtatter  tries to avoid explosions...

Maybe I really will make the house out of legos. Making the icon was fun. Done now.
Today is not only the Fabulous MrZ's actual 21st birthday, but also that of my brother, the strange and acerbic Queued [who I can't get to LJ-link right, dammit.]

here's pictures of one of them, I leave it to you to figure out which )

He's doing great, and he's even adapting to Texas well. He still stomps around the house yelling, as both Siamese cats and old dudes do. I assumed what he was saying was, "Ethel! Where are my glasses? Ethel! Where are my pants?" Of course, now that we're in Texas, he's had to make a few adjustments: "Maria! Donde esta my pants? Maria! Donde esta my soul jar? I could go at any minute... Mao..."

We didn't let him vote, even though he's of age, since he keeps ranting about Taft and demanding we bring back Eisenhower.

Not bad for a cat that just a few years ago had chewed off all his fur and was so threadbare he looked like the Velveteen Rabbit. Go MrZ.

My brother, on the other hand, seems perfectly capable of locating his own pants, and has never had dust come off him when you patted him as far as I know.

Happy Birthday, dudes.

I had this great post all written out about the Russian Mafia delivering my belongings a week ago at 11 pm. But since we didn't have the DSL hooked up by that point and I was hacking the neighbors again for internet in the middle of the night, LJ kept dropping my post and I finally gave up. It would have been way cooler if I could have posted this discussion before the election, but oh well.

strange prelude )

 At one point, out of the blue, Sergei turns to me and says, "Who you think win the election?"
"Uh," I said carefully, thinking I'm standing in a dark container with an insane man throwing boxes, "who do you want?"
"Oh, McCain." He said it Mi-Ky-Een. "He like Bush. Obama always want to have conversation. He want to talk before do. McCain, BAM! He do. Like Bush. Bush BAM! He do. Is good leader. Is good for America. Obama, not so much."

So there you have a post-Soviet Russian immigrant take. I'm not so anti-conversation myself, but YMMV.

...the furniture has not. The Russian mafia has until the 30th to deliver. I have no intention of pissing them off. They're quite wonderful to deal with if you know the rules. I’m not kidding, really. They’re very insistent that I not ship any vodka. Shipping hookers and vodka is their purview, and they don’t like interlopers. I tend to shop local for my hookers anyway.

Many of you may have heard me speak of the incredible volume of books I own. Only those of you ([livejournal.com profile] torin3 , [livejournal.com profile] technomage , [livejournal.com profile] starbabyf4g , [livejournal.com profile] blaecstan , and [livejournal.com profile] melvh , right off the top of my head) who have had the dubious pleasure of helping me move said books don’t feel a need to get into pissing matches over who owns more books. It’s a common SCA phenomenon to think that you do, as we are all insane bibliophiles --and I applaud us all for that -- but I assure you that unless you are [livejournal.com profile] tedeisenstein , I win, and I have the weight ticket to prove it.

My books came in at 4 tons. And that does not count the furniture or the anvils.

Yes, I said anvils. One of my favorite moving moments was when an enormous man picked up a tiny box and grunted, “Jeez, lady, whatcha got in here, anvils?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
There’s really no clever response to that.

Today, I am waiting for the second gas dude of the day (hey [livejournal.com profile] vikingtatter , what’s the correct title? I guess you can’t really call them “gas dudes” any more) to fix the water heater flue so we can have hot water. Finding us internet is my next task, but in the meantime, God love the residents of Austin who feel no need to secure their networks. Oo, spoke too soon, gonna have to find a Panera, dammit. At least I had pirate for an hour. Aar, matey, I’m a goner….




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