umm...you got a little blog on your face

Hmmm...what's the date on that Country Charm? I think it's turned.

2008-05-06T18:42:00.000-07:00

As I said, our house was livable when we bought it. And it was. But there was no end to the updates it would benefit from. They ranged from the essential (structural, plumbing, electric) to the cosmetic (purple bedrooms that should be dining rooms, wall paper with butter churns and wheelbarrows on it, and wood paneling that...well...it was wood paneling). Here's a shot of the kitchen.

So started the avalanche. We began by tearing out the kitchen, the one thing we knew right up front needed a major overhaul. This involved carefully pulling off trim, removing cabinets, and pulling up heinous linoleum flooring. We ended up tossing the cabinets because it will be years before we have a garage to consider putting them in, we're still on the fence with respect to a lot of the trim (hint: we have yet to install our trim), and I really regret spending the time and energy we wasted pulling up any of the kitchen flooring/sub-flooring (sorry Bearcat!) as we ended up putting laminate tile down that honestly would have benefited from a smoother subfloor than what our ancient hardwoods offered.

Demo is the one thing that any diy-er can save money on, regardless of experience or know-how. Just be safe and don't break anything you might want to keep. And as with anything, the better your equipment and plans, the better your outcome. Note: make sure you are aware of where your electric and plumbing run behind walls tagged for demo and always be sure to turn off power and water to affected areas.

You will go through a lot of gloves. Buy comfortable ones that fit well and be ready to buy several pairs. Buy the most comfortable and effective mask you can afford (do your best to try them on) and give up the dream of finding enclosed safety goggles that won't fog up right now. The best pairs we used were some combination of dangerous, uncomfortable, and ineffective...without exception. But they are an absolute necessity. Every minute you "waste" adjusting them or taking them off to clean them could be a minute you won't have to figure how to live without your sight. And you will still get crap in your eyes...just (hopefully) not shrapnel if you use them right. Get sturdy, safety work shoes/boots. I remember one day thinking I had something in my shoe and taking off my sneaker to find the point of a nail poking through the sole. They are worth it as well. Along the same lines, it's better to be hot than to have tetanus so dress for the job...long sleeves, jeans, etc.

So after some grueling summer days of what we thought was grim demo labor (we had no idea), our kitchen looked like this (pic below from opposite end of room as pic above).

This sort of thing ultimately happened to every room of the house aside from the upstairs bathroom (and even that wasn't completely spared, although in retrospect we should have left the toilet in there too).

The walls in the kitchen were taken off and found to be plaster lath, sans most of the plaster which was nice. We sort of hoped to continue that trend but it was not to be. We found out shortly after that under our ceilings were nearly-intact plaster/lath works of pre-sheetrock art.

Generally speaking, our ceilings were in rough shape. They were covered with a sort of crusty, fibrous paneling that was sagging in several spots (due to crumbling plaster we were soon to find out), looked like hell, and generally screamed for replacement. Our walls, we felt at the time, were in good enough shape to leave up...saving us some demo time and drywall dollars. So we set about bringing down the ceilings on the first floor.

Tips for work like this...you'll need something to cover the floor, contractor bags, a wheelbarrow, choice implements of destruction (in our case a wonderbar and a superbar), helmets (seriously...wear a helmet of some sort while pulling heavy slabs of paneling and plaster and boards with rusty nails in them off the ceiling), safety goggles, heavy long sleeved clothing, hair covering, gloves, and safety shoes. Put your floor covering in place, don your safety gear, and start swinging. I tried initially to pull things down in an orderly fashion and for the paneling, this was key. But after all the big chunks of already-sagging plaster had come down and things would only crumble when teased, reaching up and yanking down on the lath with the prybars worked the best. Gathering the lath and bundling it up as well as laying down the floor covering (which also protected our original hardwoods) helped a great deal with cleanup, which was a pain. Contractor bags get very heavy very fast when being filled with plaster so don't get zealous and overfill them. And use that wheelbarrow. Do NOT drag the full bags...fill them only so full as to be able to load them into a wheelbarrow and cart them to your (hopefully) waiting dumpster. However dusty and gross you think work like this might be, it is far far more dusty and gross.

Let's take a moment to get something straight. Some people will describe to you a process of renovation that involves room by room demo and redesign, all while you're living there. If you have to live there, and you have to renovate...then this has to work. If you have any option to not live there and the renovations are widespread and/or involve some combination of complete system replacements (HVAC, plumbing, and electric) DO IT ALL AT ONCE. Suffer terribly for 6 months or a year instead of marginally for 20 years. Because no matter what your schedule, it will stretch out...and you're always going to be doing work to your house. But if you get all of the really painful and serious work out of the way at once without the pressure of having to co-habitate with it, you're better off than saving it and drawing it all out for decade upon decade.

That said, we ultimately opted to tear off all of our walls...which were compsed of heavily painted and wallpapered sheetrock over a combination of lath and plaster/lath. As more and more people advised us to do as much as we could at the time...the further our demo project went. Until we had taken the whole house apart.

I'll talk about our structural woes next...

"Yo, you need to rent The Money Pit, you know with Tom Hanks?"

2008-04-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

This comment was very nearly the beginning of so many fights with so many people over the course of our renovation...people I respected , good friends even. But none of them could ever know what a twist of the knife a term like "money pit" was to me. Or that I had already seen the movie...and that it sucks (although I did laugh pretty hard at the part with the bathtub and the stairs and the collapsing and the mocking of some else's pain). Anyway...

I've talked a bit about our house here and there...mentioned it a couple times, maybe preached or borderline ranted about it and buying homes in general. But ultimately I'd like to get into the nitty gritty (read: hellish underbelly) of what it took to be able to sleep, cook, shower, and poop here. Naturally pictures are critical...so, here's our house.

That's the front. And here's the back...

It's an old house...1863. We think anyway. The real estate listing said 1837 but...the real estate listing said a lot of things. Like that we were in a school district we were most certainly not in...and that our house was 2200 sq ft...which it hardly is. Unless you're counting our dungeon of a basement, and our musty unfinished attic, and the garage, and the pumphouse. Ok...anyway, while toiling to install our radiant heat we found a little wooden plaque in the ceiling joists of our first floor that had the builder and inspector's names on it and the year 1863 listed. So we'll go with that, certainly over anything that the baby from Dinosaurs might have come up with.

Let me state up front that our house was livable when we bought it. A ~70 year old widow was living here quite happily (we assume) for many years prior to us buying it. God knows how she mowed the lawn or cleared the driveway of snow, but live here she did. We knew we would want to update the kitchen, replace a toilet or two, eventually re-side it...and surely several other projects TBD, but we figured that we would try to move in at the end of the 6 weeks span between the closing and the end of our lease.

Ultimately we reduced that livability to roughly 11 tons of debris and that 6 weeks turned into 6 months.

Hi Leeeeeeeeee!

2008-03-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

That's how our Realtor used to greet me. Grinning from ear to ear and waddling towards me, faced caked with make-up. Remember the baby on that show Dinosaurs ()? That was our Realtor. Anyway, she more or less sucked...not too mention we fell into a bit of a dual agency trap. Granted the only house we looked at with her that we were really interested in, she happened to be the agent for the seller...so it was sort of just luck. But she certainly did not play hardball for us. And why would she? Hardball against her own client (the seller) makes no sense. The higher the price, the better.

Anyway, it's hard to find a Realtor you like. So I wouldn't try too hard. What I would suggest is find someone who is a friend...or a friend of a friend. Someone who has something to lose by screwing you...or at the very least, not treating you extremely well. And find someone who knows something about houses. My real estate lawyer friend told me once that the best agents are engineers or contractors who have transitioned willingly and successfully to real estate. Because they actually KNOW about houses. They can make informed judgments about property even before an inspector steps foot in the place (although an inspector is a must).

Which brings us to inspectors. I could not be more disappointed with our inspector. He was a very nice guy...which isn't really all that helpful when trying to determine how deep a particular hole is that you will soon be throwing all your money into. So yeah, he was nice. He also used the words (and I quote) "no big deal" when describing our home's structural issues. And I wouldn't say he looked rich, but apparently 8 large is "no big deal" in his world. Anyway, the point is you want a pitbull. You want Sherlock Holmes. You want a rabid, anxious, pessimistic, disgruntled inspector who will make the seller cry. Hell...he can make you cry. Just make sure he looks long and hard into that hole (the one you're thinking of throwing your money into that is).

for the newbie home buyer

2008-03-02T14:06:00.000-08:00

I only say that this is for the newbie home buyer because that is all we know. We bought a house as newbie home buyers, renovated it as newbie renovators, and are maintaining it as newbie home owners. That perspective is really all we have to offer. We certainly haven't attained any level of expertise but the ignorance with which we approached most things in this arena is still fresh (and sometimes present) in our minds. So here's to hoping it can help someone else.

The first thing I would say is very general and is probably the most difficult concept to fully internalize and acknowledge in one's decision making. It's sort of a paradox really and the worst part is that it sort of renders all other advice pointless...as I don't know if anyone can ever really get past it without getting stung at least a few times. You see, you can't always act on the standard pieces of advice that you hear from so many people and from so many sources. You will hear it, you will agree that it makes sense and then you will not only make those decisions that you were advised not to make, you will typically go to great lengths to convince yourself you have given this advice careful thought and that you are making an informed and intelligent decision to contradict conventional wisdom. You might think it's a calculated risk for which the rewards will be great...or maybe you think you'll be more capable of dealing with things more effectively than the average person, for whom this advice might be more appropriate. Or you might just thumb your nose at it with that rebel spirit that got you kicked out of class and had you running laps at practice.

So let me take this opportunity to tell you to believe it. Believe what people tell you. Believe what I say here about the pitfalls and challenges because they are real and can be financially, physically, and emotionally painful.

If you are extrememly experienced in the art of home renovation or are extraordinarily bored, rich, and patient, this advice may not be as important. Otherwise, never forget that people who know what they're talking about mean what they say when it comes to something like this.

So then the second piece of advice that I would offer, something that is equally as challenging, would be to please please please look practically at what you want in a house and not romantically. If this sounds familiar, it is because everyone who offers homebuying advice mentions this (don't tell me you forgot the first piece of advice already).

Decide what you want in a house. I mean, I know everyone wants a beautiful mansion, or a house on the lake, or an old Victorian in the village with all sorts of character, or an Ewok village...or whatever. Most people can't have it. Certainly not as their first house. So be practical about that. Think about the boring things that will shape your life after you move it. Commutes, taxes, neighbors, etc.

Decide what you can spend on a house. Factor in taxes and the interest rate you can get approved for (notice the economy lately? think fixed-rate people...fixed). Do NOT under any circumstances, assume you will find a way to afford more than you realistically can. This country is foreclosure crazy right now...

Do your best to find a house that meets these critera. Try and narrow your house search down and then do your best to bring someone who knows at least a little about houses. If you want to look at a "fixer-upper" bring someone who has renovated.

Don't write off the practical choice. Submitting to the practical choice is boring and can be depressing...even sickening. However, when it comes to home buying, the practical choice is more powerful than in almost any other process (except maybe staying in school and not talking to strangers and saying no to reality television and all that). When it comes to buying a house, the practical choice can make the next few years of your life significantly more enjoyable...whereas the romantic choice has the very real potential to make you miserable (house poor, dirty and demoralized by renovations, some combination thereof, etc).

When you look critically at a home you are seriously interested in, you will certainly find things about the house that detract from its appeal. Keep in mind that these are not necessarily show stoppers. I have a friend whose fiance would dismiss houses with interior paint that she didn't like. Unless you're having your home built, don't expect to find houses that you won't want to at least change a little. Painting (done well of course) for instance gives you as much bang for your buck as any renovation. There is an entire spectrum of things that you might find that will make a home less attractive to you as a buyer. They will range from the simple and purely aesthetic (e.g. the aforementioned painting, or landscaping, or use of space) to the functional and structural (HVAC systems, foundation, roof, etc). None of these means that you can't or must buy the house. The only role they should play in the decision is whether or not the price is fair and whether or not you are willing to commit to them if it is.

So say you find a house that you want. You'd like to live where it is and you'd like to live in it. And best of all, you think it's a steal. But then you find out why. The plumbing is going and the plaster ceilings are crumbling. If you think you could make a fair and reasonable offer (one that you can afford of course) taking these things into account, ask yourself if you're willing to pay for the repairs or undertake them yourself. If it doesn't or you aren't, walk away. Just walk away. Too bad, so sad...just walk away.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't ever compromise on your budget or how much work you are or (more importantly) aren't willing to take on. Take as long as you possibly can to make the best possible decision you can...and then stick to it.

Ok...next post I'll try and lay out what we learned about realtors and inspectors...we only had one of each but like I said, we're newbies.

and well...now it's been a year

2008-02-27T19:07:00.001-08:00

So we ended up closing on that house we were talking about looking for and eventually buying. And...wow. That was about 6 months ago. I initially had grand plans to document our progress and provide useful information to other diy-ers and...show people how hardworking and resourceful and bootstrappy we were. All that. Instead...we survived. At best. We had our hands and lungs and eyes and knees and our comfort zone and minds and sense of security and stability and our bank accounts and friendships and very fibers of our being assaulted almost non-stop the entire time. Not to be dramatic...

Anyway, we live here now. I mean, there are light bulbs hanging out of the ceilings and no trim and more rooms without outlets than rooms with and possessions scattered about seeking storage that will not come. But the kitchen is great. And the radiant flooring is awesome (albeit a bit creaky). And we can sit in our own space and watch tv for hours and not worry about running water or working toilets or freezing our assess off in the middle of a miserable dirty room with no walls or ceiling and god knows what floating through the air. And it's ours.

oh god where have I been...

2007-12-26T10:59:00.000-08:00

You know all those inspiring stories about people taking an old house and renovating it completely? Making it their own...taking something from "old and busted" to "new hotness" with nothing more than a shoestring budget, a little imagination, and their own grit, moxy, determination, lunacy, naivete, ignorance, etc etc?

This same curse has befallen me.

oh yeah...blogging

2007-03-09T11:01:00.000-08:00

Again, haven't blogged in quite sometime. Let's see as to why. I went to Charlotte for work for a week. Then I came home for a week and did a little snowboarding. Then I went back to Charlotte for another week. Then I came back home for the weekend...then to Chicago for a week for work. Madness.

The lady did come out and met me in Chicago and we got to see my cousin and her husband which made things significantly easier to deal with. But I got back from all that late last month and didn't really like...blog about it. At all. Then I went snowboarding again. And I bought skis for my b-day, which is pretty sweet so I did some skiing too. I fear the snow will be gone soon though, which is sad but it's been a great season. We've been getting out at least once a week and most of the time twice. Honestly I think we haven't missed a week since the real snow started falling.

Probably going to buy a house soon which should be pretty cool. It's a struggle though because we should probably be looking now, while the market is down and we're in a less competitive season. But we're really pretty pumped about living on the lake this summer, so we can't really see moving out before our lease is up. It would probably be nice to have a month of overlap but any more than that seems foolishly costly. Anyway...

Work has been...well...let me tell you about work. I've been checking stats on some equipment in Chicago over a T1 that does not deserve the title. Let's just say I've realized that the Solaris CDE Desktops are magic eye 3D shiz. I don't know if this is common knowledge...Google didn't really offer too much on the topic. But it's true. So if you use the Solaris CDE, three of the four default Solaris desktops will give you some 3D goodness with a little deep focus. That will give you an idea of what work has been like for me back here.

I guess that covers why I haven't been blogging...more or less because life is rarely worth blogging about. And when it is, you don't really have the opportunity to sit down and blog about it. And then you forget about the blogworthiness. Or maybe it's that life actually always is worth blogging about...you just have to be good enough and have the creative elbow grease to give it some color. I suppose I've been missing that then.

first runs (snowboarding...not poop)

2007-01-12T05:08:00.000-08:00

Haven't really been blogging lately. I know you're all devastated...probably checking everyday...anticipating. Both of you. But it's hard you know? What with the writing and the spelling and the making of the mundane interesting. Ahh the challenges we face in this American life. Oh wait...there's spell check (remember when people had to use pens and stuff? Me neither)

So the lady and I got out on the slopes last night for the first time this year. It was a little rough. Only two trails open (Lab) and some seriously icy chop. It wasn't too cold though and there was a little loose powder under the lift, which was great. But now of course it's raining. If we could just reach next week without the warm up...or at least without it raining. But no. We're supposed to get a sustained winter blast next week though which should give us a chance at a real base.

Training (work) has gone from 'fairly interested and happy to learn' to 'having difficulty paying attention' to 'getting angry at how long we have until the next break'. Like...pretty angry. Bad sign. I keep picturing our trainer physically cramming information into our heads like so much ASDE-X stuffing. If we had to worry about homework and tests and such...this experience would make any 10 hour day of labs and lecture I pulled at Bucknell seem like pre-K. It's all over next week though...and all I have to say is that I'd better be a ASDE-X maestro by then. Or a hack or whatever.

Xmas glut

2006-12-27T08:34:00.000-08:00

Rain on Xmas is a slap in the jolly old face. It's like...Santa getting drunk and deciding he wants to talk about football while you sit on his lap instead of what presents you want. And then he drools on you...only it's freezing cold. Don't get me wrong. I've had a great holiday season so far. But good lord, cold rain makes me hate...and Xmas is no time to hate.

We had a most amazing meal at my mom's on Xmas eve. Roast chicken that was moist and flavorful, baked yams, mashed potatoes, rich dark gravy, classic stuffing, and this collared greens/pear/caramelized onion/smoked Gouda/dried cherry casserole that my sister made. Straight tasty. Then we opened presents...which is always fun. Everyone liked what we had gotten them although we were missing two key presents...the 3rd season of 6 ft Under for my sis and bro-in-law, and knives for my mom...which sucked (friggin Amazon!), but they weren't the only presents we had for them so...Xmas was saved.

Xmas day was spent with The Lady's fam and was great. Honestly I could have eaten breakfast before we started getting into the avalanche of presents dominating half of their living room, but thankfully I got a few Clif bars in my stocking to tide me over. Not even opening presents can distract my fat ass from sausage and eggs. I got Beck's and Built to Spill's new albums, a gc for dinner at an Italian place (to be used with her siblings), some fine chocolates, some new-fangled razor with 42 blades (they're lifting the skin!), a portable DVD player (for both of us), and a few bottles of hot sauce. And...The Lady bought me an ipod. 30 gigger vid. That honestly almost made me cry. I've never been hell bent on an ipod but I've definitely always wanted one. It was really more how sweet and awesome of a present it was. Great rubber case that even covers the click wheel. Never saw it coming. She loved her coat too (which she never saw coming either) and her parents got her skis, so she was feeling pretty good.

Some reindeer manure hit the holiday fan when pops realized a bad power cord had been included with the young one's xbox 360 (friggin ebay!)...but all it needed was a standard PC-tower type three-pronger and I had ma dig one up for us in the basement (the one that came in the box was missing a grounding socket on the female end). Of course it wasn't as simple as just that...the stupid xbox power converter has a ridge below the grounding pin in the socket that the female end plugs into...making it nonstandard in a most asinine fashion. Upon realizing this I offered a quasi-desperate/quasi-heroic "I'll cut this," which I suppose was some sort of misplaced attempt to get permission for the risks that attend tampering with power cords and 120 volts, etc. Of course everyone was all in favor, primarily I think due to the sheer terror at the thought of their child/brother not being able to play with his primary gift on Xmas morning. So I proceeded to gouge out a spot for that stupid little nonstandard Xbox ridge that only Bill Gates would be stupid enough to include on his game console's power converter. Ultimately it worked, I got to frag some alien invaders in vivid resolution and with a rumbling controller, and no one got electrocuted...yet. So...Xmas was again saved.

Xmas night saw everyone (The Lady's full family...my mom, sister, bro-in-law) at our place for dinner which was great. I overcooked the steaks (med-med well when most everyone asked for med rare) which I was far more disappointed in than anyone else...and we forgot the mushrooms (which would have been a great topping for the steaks), but the scallops were great and aside from having to grill in the rain while hating with extraordinary bitterness the total lack of snow and presence of steady sky piss, everyone swam in holiday cheer.

And then to top it off...yesterday saw the arrival of not only The Lady's ski boots (they fit perfectly...which is awesome), but also my snowboard. I will get bindings as soon as my correct boots arrive (friggin The House!)...and move to Canada if it doesn't snow heavily by the time my rig is complete.

old and busted, as they say

2006-12-19T19:16:00.000-08:00

So I tweaked my back in training today. Training to be a 10th dan black belt in The Way of The Fist you might ask? No. Training to optimize an air traffic control system. And most of the time it's really more of a lecture type class than it is a training. And I actually did it coughing. That's right...I coughed and my back was instantly tweaked. What the hell am I gonna feel like at 55 if I tweak my back coughing at 28? It made for a rather angry morning. I mean, I'm in decent shape. I work out a few days a week. I made contact on a bike this past Sunday in our playoff indoor game (it kinda had training wheels on it truth be told...but hey...it was the only bike I saw that night). Point is, I should be tweaking my back carrying old ladies out of burning nursing homes or holding Carmelo Anthony back from making an ass out of himself on national television...not coughing. Jeez.

So...not to gloat, but I got all my Xmas shopping done. It's nice to be doing it all in tandem I must say. Financially and in terms of the exhausting creativity required to buy with confidence a gift for someone you love. I think everyone is going to be pretty happy. We'll see.

And...I have a new snowboard and boots in the mail on their way as we speak. Slightly touched in the head over that one...I keep losing my slim grasp of an attention span in training, dreaming about floating on powder...although before I go gettin all amped on that, I still need to get some bindings. And get my other gear off the now inaccessible floating second story of my ma's busted garage. And oh yeah...it needs to snow here. Cold rain makes me want to drink...something...prolly booze. December rain = might as well live in S Jersey.

the cackalackies

2006-12-12T11:15:00.000-08:00

So we took a weekend down to the cackalackies to see some friends from 'swego who just got married. They both had the same first name (shortened version of their full name anyway), so now they really have the same name. It was a bit of a rush to get out of town. You know...that tension that attends gearing up to go somewhere shuffling the unspoken knowledge that any one random set back could put you into panic mode...or worse, flight-missed resignation mode? And of course some hefty lake effect tumbled down for the first 20 minutes of our drive to Webster or Brewster or Baxter or whatever. Which always puts The Lady in a fine mood. She needs some new tires.

We left straight from the parking lot of Beck and Riley's apt in Webster or Brewster or Baxter or whatever. You could tell Riley was feeling the aforementioned tension. But he's a good driver insomuch as we made it to the garage with time to spare. Naturally, our flight was delayed to the point of having ~1 min to make our connection in BWI.

I was surprised I let The Lady convince me that the new regulations about liquids and gels and such had been lifted because I should have known better. Fortunately the AirTran ticket jockeys were nice enough to pack all the ladies' special scents and lotions in a cardboard box to be checked down to CLT. Riley got a cologne in there I suppose and I my cough syrup and utility blade off my key chain too. It was a sorry little box.

It's funny how logic gets less playing time under pressure. After contemplating the loss of our luggage for the night considering our checked bags would probably not make the transfer, we were offered The Box...and yet we still stood around for a few minutes contemplating what to do, getting more and more disgruntled about the state of world affairs and The War of Terror. I was honestly just surprised and grateful that The Box had been offered at all.

Finally The Box was filled with our precious beauty products and other contraband (I really do like that lil utility knife) and we were on our way. Only to find out that our plane was not delayed and that we would be in BWI more or less on time.

There was some ominous emergency response that followed our plane in as it arrived at the gate. But as I stared out the window wondering where the firemen had gone, I apparently missed the men in the Mylar suits assisting with a medical emergency up the hallway towards security.

Before takeoff, it turned out that The Lady and I had first class, VIP seats...to an incredible nose picking display! A woman in a pink sweatsuit opposite us couldn't get enough of her nasal passage as she stared out the window thoughtfully. The Lady found it fascinating and begged me to watch. But it turned out I was all set.

Oh god the joy of seeing your plucky little box emerge from the swaying curtain of the baggage claim...only to have the brains of that joy smashed out against the metal edge of the carousel. I guess that's a bit dramatic...but damn...how many of those boxes are the AirTran people packing for people? Turns out, they packed a similar box for one Jeff Geauliardeaugensen with some "L'oreal Product" who promptly up and rolled with our box. The nerve! Good thing the AirTran baggage bitch was smart enough to check the tag on the box and call him direct. His box smelled as though something horrible had happened en route, which, all told, made me exceedingly happy that it wasn't The Box. But he graciously returned to the ticketing counter with The Box and took his stanky L'oreal Product Box (sounds like a derogatory term for a make-up model, yes?). The Box was ours. That shit had Seinfeld written all over it.

Hey...remember when Nic took matrix algebra in college and then bought a Matrix? Me neither...but I remember hearing it discussed. Anyway, our starving asses drove to Fishbone, got denied (which was very sad), and then to Brewster or Baxter or Webster or whatever for a salty roast beef melt. Met Nick...went back to their nice little, tastefully painted house and fell asleep with a quickness. Big Box (lotta box in this post, hunh?) shopping, helped Beck open her newly purchased drier balls and dropped them into her purse. Obvious jokes ensued about them being Riley's...and lucky for Riley and everyone else there, they were blue. It was glorious.

Packed tight in the Matrix (packed tight in a car was a theme for the weekend) we got some great BBQ at Courtney's in Clover and then home for low impact party prep. Then a drive through bright lights of Charlotte and to Allan and Lauren's house. We rolled with a beer pong table, a quarter keg, a liter of Ketel, some gourmet olives, and a couple lemons. Nothing like a wood burning fireplace and a group of well dressed pregnant ladies. Well...three anyway.

The Ketel 1 was gone in 40 minutes. Sad. Good thing Nic brought some Absolut Nilla too.

I tied one on carefully and then let Riley drink our penalties as I found a tight mark in pong. I matched him with slugs of my martini as I remembered but we really didn't have to do much drinking. We played four games and went undefeated. I think I went 5-6 the last game. Wooot. Allan said I must be taking some performance enhancing drugs.

The trip home when Saturday is the only day you get is tough. You're just tired. And you didn't take enough of what you went for and loved. And I forgot my soccer gear...for which I punished myself thoroughly. All told, it was nice to go home and chill but I'm only getting one game in a week these days which hurts.

Congratulations to the two Nic(k)s...good times in the cackalackies.

oh jeez...I think I just blogged myself

2006-12-06T18:36:00.000-08:00

I can start blogging. I mean, sleazy interns and all the kids nowadays and even old people do it...so I'm sure it's safe for me. I have to admit that I do feel a little pressure to have some sort of theme though. Like I should be complaining about stuff all the time or letting slip what senators I've slept with or telling people how to...like...broadcast their pirate signal and hack into the Matrix and whatnot. I've got nothing like that though. I mean I could probably complain pretty effectively but that's not what blogging should be about, is it?

I once read this blog that was linked to Fark about this woman who had found out her husband was cheating on her and was on this warpath to publically humiliate him. She conveniently started her blogging existence about a week before she discovered his infidelity and proceeded to come up with some pretty ridiculous stunts to expose him. It all screamed "publicity stunt for Jennifer Aniston's and Owen Wilson's next movie." I guess there's no reason why it can't be true (http://thatgirlemily.blogspot.com/ check it out for yourself). But I can't say I'm sold. Anyway...my point is, that's not the sort of thing that I want my blog to be about. You see blogging is a such a powerful and unique outlet for creating a virtual community in this remarkably networked world of ours and to use it as a personal tabloid is just...hmm...uh...yeah, not my point. People can cheapen anything...and blogging might be one the most effective mediums with which to cheapen content since television. It's like global cable access for the most personal and generally meaningless of written words. Think everyone's own 'The Denise Show.'

It's so perfect that blog sounds like a bodily function. It's a verb and sounds gross. A shoo-in for a new onomatopoeia, no doubt. And yeah, it's "shoo" and not "shoe." I looked it up. And onomatopoeia. Thank god for the interwebbings. Thank god for blogging.