Well, it’s all done, now. I’m exhausted.
[Movie removed because of bandwidth restrictions. Sorry!]
Love to all, even you the lady who came three hours after the thing started and said “Is this IT?!?“
Apr 302006
Apr 292006
Ladies and Gentlemen… the sale is on.
This camera should update every minute or so:
Love to all, even you… whoever tries to out-haggle me.
I’m going to see if I can set up the camera that’s built into my laptop to do a constant update of the garage sale tomorrow. If you are really bored, feel free to check it out.
We’ll be doing this craziness from around 9:30 to 2:30 U.S. Eastern.
If you see an image below, the test is working.
Love to all.
Apr 292006
…but she get’s hyperstressed before events. Birthday parties, holiday dinners…
…and garage sales.
It’s a good thing that, on balance, I’m about three hundred times more irritable than she is, or else I could take this moment to be all self-righteous and pissy.
“Pissy?” Is that a word?
Anyway.
Love to all. Even you, the baseball coach who tried to sneak his ace pitcher back into the game when it suddenly became tied up.
So, my wife is parked at the elementary school. She says hello to her friend, whom I shall call (for no reason, and with no ill feeling) “Tweak.” Tweak then proceeds to drive into my wife’s car with her big SUV. My wife’s car was stationary. Tweak gets out of the car and says “My fault! I’m so sorry!” The police are not called.
After getting home, Maggie calls Tweak for her insurance. Tweak says “My husband says not to give you my insurance information. He says it’s your fault because you were parked illegally.”
Now, regardless of fault… there is absolutely NO reason not to exchange insurance information. I mean, our insurance company would find it out anyway, and all it creates is an unnecessarily combative situation.
Maggie and I get into an argument on the phone as I tell her to drop everything, go to the police station, and file an accident report. She gets mad at me for being bossy. She is probably right.
Then, Tweak calls Maggie, all apologetic and crying and saying “I don’t know why I acted that way.” And then the truth comes out: she had called her insurance company and they said that she was totally at fault: the moving vehicle that hits the stationary vehicle is to blame. End of story.
So now her insurance company is paying for our car to be fixed, and I’m left thinking that her husband is one of those guys who turns into a jackass under pressure. Did I mention that:
- Our daughters are in the same class?
- The husband runs a company with over a billion dollars in assets? (That’s a B.)
I mean, holy shit. Even if you think you’re right, play it honest. Fucker. I realize this is the point where I’m supposed to pray for people who piss me off. So I will.
Love to all. Even you, Tweak’s husband.
PS: Update! Actually Maggie wasn’t even IN the car. She was parked at the pickup spot for the nursery school. The car was empty when Tweak hit it.
Seriously.
About the post below this one, Ginamonster said, tongue-in-cheek:
yeah, but then someone in the oil business might lose money, and we can’t have that!!
But she’s right. We have to incentivize the living shit out of an ethanol conversion. Make it worthwhile for Big Oil. So I say: give American-owned oil companies a 20-year lock on ethanol distribution, as long as they have a development and distribution process in place within a finite amount of time.
Yeah, that’s right. I used color. Because this is important. It may seem unfair, pandering to Big Oil, but that’s the reality of things. We’ve got to get this thing done, and this is how to do it… in my layman’s opinion.
Love to all. Even you, the grumpy old lady who hip-checked me on the 6 train.
How about giving everyone a $100 credit to convert their cars to run on ethanol?
The actual conversion costs, well, $100 dollars. So this would be perfect.
Prior to that, of course, you’d actually have to grow more corn… but with millions of acres lying fallow, I think we’re more than prepared for that. Why haven’t we started a national ethanol conversion? Brazil did, and they are achieving exactly what we are talking about: losing our dependence on foreign oil.
This is a relatively inexpensive process using existing technologies. What’s the holdup?
Love to all. Even you, the dude who beeped before the light turned green.
Apr 272006
Four Republican Senators are introducing a bill to give $100 to every citizen for gas. That’s, what: 33 gallons of gas… or 2 or three fill-ups. Hmm. I’m not sure that’s going to solve the difficulty involved with our dependence on foreign oil.
But that’s not what bothers me.
In what I consider to be an underhanded and devious move, embedded in the bill is a provision which will open up a section of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to oil drilling.
By embedding a provision that Democrats and moderate Republicans MUST vote down, the Republicans turn an empty gesture into someting much worse: a political charade. Clearly, the Republicans aren’t interested in helping you afford to fuel your car. Rather, they are forcing the Democrats to vote down the bill so that the Republicans can say: “Look, the Democrats don’t want to give you a rebate.”
$100 or gas? That’s a lot of hot air.
Love to all. Even you, Senator Santorum.
The last time Maggie and I had a garage sale, we lived in New Brunswick, New Jersey. We weren’t married, and we were about to move to Brooklyn, NY. I weighed about 20 pounds less than I do now (I’m not currently overweight), I was playing drums in a band, and my hair was really, really long.
The two things I remember about that garage sale:
- I sold my Toyota Corolla.
- Maggie was driven batty by the haggling moxie of some of the pro-level yard-sale people. This one lady was trying to talk Maggie down from a quarter to a nickel on a colander, and I remember her saying: “NO! IT’S A QUARTER. THAT’S WHAT IT SAYS!”
The ad is placed in the local paper. The signs are ready for deployment.
Next Sunday, we sell.
Love to all.
If you’re going to write someone because you think they are being mean or insulting, perhaps it’s best to try NOT to be mean or insulting when you tell them this.
Here’s a comment left on my blog:
I am on a personal crusade to call out those that use the word retarded in everyday hostile speech. You use the word to put someone down. You probably aren’t half the man my twin brother is.
My twin brother is retarded, 60 years old and can you think of some other word to show your lack of speakablity. Because you cannot speak without cursing, slandering or hating, I am calling you out.
Enough with the retarded bit,
Buy yourself a dictionary,
(I’m sure you are not ready for the Collegiate Dictionary, but you have to start somewhere)
Try the High School Version.
Don’t eat the covers off of the dictionary, this time use it to learn words that mean something, retarded means something to me, not to you; grow up.
Here’s my reply:
You think that insulting people without using specific words is somehow better?
Fuck you, you hypocritical retard.
Love, Rich
I mean, jeez.
Love to all. Even you, “Web Loafer.”
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