||Friday, May 02,
2003 at 16:13:45 (EDT)
Parteeeee People!! Partyeee People?
I've got to write shorter blog entries, something more like More
Than Donuts, none of these extended meditations on stupid things
I do to take up time. Okay here goes.
We currently rushing around trying to clean up this dump in preparation
for our party tonight. This is the party that nearly no one we invited
can make it. Perhaps it's because B began inviting people Tuesday
night at midnight. Anyway, only a few select folks will be there
at first. Others
have promised to show up later, but I expect the later hour and
the dangerous and seedy streets of my neighborhood
may preclude people from making it here. Wimps!
Okay that was short but hardly interesting. If anybody out there
wants to join us, lemme know.
We probably should have waited until we had our proverbial shit
together but since the smoking ban is in full
effect now, we have no choice but to turn our pad into Party
Posted By Jimmy Legs
||Thursday, May 01,
2003 at 22:19:28 (EDT)
I'm never quite so stupid as when I'm being
Now that I am over my cold, I finished up my day job early today and
headed out to dig in the backyard. We're about to reseed and there's
a lot of soil that needs to be broken up and moved around, since we
dismantled the pathetic vegetable garden in the back. So I'm aerating
parts of the yard, and digging out other parts to be lugged to the
other parts. I'm also digging out as many bamboo roots as I can find.
It is the scourge of a well-kept garden.
I'm digging away like I was in that kid's movie,
sweating like a pig. Then I remembered there was a leak in the basement
and I needed some JB Weld to patch it. The local hardware store
would be closing soon, so I hopped on my bike and sped over to Adami.
I couldn't find what I wanted, but bought something called plumber's
epoxy, which was supposed to seal active leaks. I zipped back home
and started to work, mixing the two parts together and applying
it to the leaky pipe. It wasn't working.
The water kept dripping out. I set up a fan to get the putty to
set faster. I took a hair dryer to it for about ten minutes, when
suddenly it dawned on me: if I could find the valve, I could just
shut off the water. The closest valve turned out to be on the hot
water heater. I shut it off and the leak halted. Joy. I messed with
the patch some more and left it to set. I dug some more in the backyard.
I returned and turned on the hot water again, fearing that one of
the upstairs neighbors would freak out (there are at least 6 people
in this building who share the same tiny hot water heater). I turned
the valve and some water dribbled out of it. No big deal, I thought.
I checked the leaky pipe and it started dripping again. Oh well,
I figured. I can work on it tomorrow when nobody's around.
I checked the water heater. Water was still dripping from the valve.
I turned the valve some more, somehow believing it would reduce
the leakage. The leakage got worse. Much worse. The more I messed
with the knob, the more water came out. It literally did that thing
you see in cartoons, spraying out in my face. I managed to get it
to where it was just leaking freely and stuck a bucket under it.
I ran around like an idiot for a while, trying to think of something
else to do. Finally, I prepared myself for the worst: I called the
She seemed characteristically unconcerned with my plight (it's
not like she has to live in this dump), and said she'd try to get
a plumber to come this evening. But she figured she wouldn't be
able to get anybody to fix it until tomorrow. I cleared away all
the band equipment, taking the guitars upstairs and moving the drumset
out of the line of potential water torrents. I played with the valve
some more. Little chunks of black stuff were coming out of the valve
now. I realized this was probably the gasket. I could fix this,
I thought to myself. But what did I know about gaskets? Were they
a special size for water heaters? I gave up and decided to wait
for the plumber.
I went back to the yard. It was growing dark now, so my digging
seemed especially sinister. I dug to forget my basement woes. I
threw myself into my work. I pulled every single muscle in my upper
body at once. Those of you who know me may find this strange, but
I am not in fact the tower of strength and sinew that I appear.
Considering the most I ever do with my arms is work a pair of chopsticks,
I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner. So I had to stop everything
until the intense pain in my arms subsided. Luckily, Seinfeld
I went back to the basement, glutton for punishment that I am.
I looked at the bucket, horrified to find that it was totally full.
It had been there for maybe an hour since I emptied it last. I devised
a plan. I would run a hose from the leak to the drain pipe. Most
drain pipes have a cap that can be removed for maintenance, so I
though I could stick the hose into it and forget this whole irritating
encounter. But alas, the entry point was too far for the hose to
reach. The opening was covered with a panel from the circuit breaker
box. I lifted it to reveal what was basically an open sewer. Now,
for the love of Christ, I don't know why I did what I did next:
I stuck my hand into it. I touched a substance best left undescribed,
and recoiled. Now I know the reason it smells so bad in the basement
during the summer. Yay.
That pretty much ended my inquisitive, problem-solving portion
of the evening. I vigorously washed my hands. I went to the bodega
and bought Corona, refried beans and taco shells. I whipped up some
tacos and read The New Yorker. But alas, I had one more thing
to attempt this night. I had to cut down part of a mulberry tree.
First, I snuck into the neighbor's yard (under cover of darkness,
you may recall) and started up the tree. In my back pocket was a
fearsome folding saw. I climbed as high as I could considering it
was dark and I had already started drinking. I looked up to the
offending branch: much too far.
Then I climbed on the roof of the back patio bunker and attempted
to reach the branch with my homemade cherry-picker. Part of me wishes
one of my neighbors had witnessed me there, on the tarpaper roof,
threatening a tree with several broomsticks taped together. I descended,
morose that I had accomplished none of the jobs I had attempted
Then I did what I always do when real life is too much: I surfed
the Web. Unable to focus on the far more important matters of celebrity
sightings or whether it's still cool to like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs,
I surfed over to some DIY home improvement sites. And I found this:
A Leaky Valve, and at step 2: Use the wrenches to tighten
the valve and see if that stops the leak.
Dear god, I am the stupidest man on earth.
The whole time I was freaking about the water spraying out of the
valve, it never occurred to me that all my twisting of the knob
might have been loosening the nut that holds it in place. It's not
like I could miss it, either, it's a huge brass nut. I rushed to
the basement with my slip-joint pliers and like that! the leak abated.
Good thing, too, since the bucket was already spilling over.
The plumber's still gotta come for the first leak, but I have at
least repaired everything else I had broken in the process. I didn't
get to reseeding the yard, but that can wait another day. And as
for the mulberries, I am thinking of just living with it, maybe
putting up a canopy for the month of June. Or buying a flamethrower.
And somehow, I am more secure than ever that I could own a house.
As long as I can keep my stupidity to a reasonable level.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
||Thursday, May 01,
2003 at 12:20:29 (EDT)
Great Green Globs of Greasy Grimy Berry Guts
So I got through yesterday without strangling anyone, only to wake
up this morning to an imbecilic coworker who's upset that the Microsoft
Office documents she had me post to the website "can be changed
by other people." You ever find yourself doing your job only
to discover that the people you've been working with don't have the
slightest idea what they're talking about? I had to sit on the phone
and explain to this person why
Microsoft Office documents can be edited ("because if they
couldn't be edited, nobody could ever create any documents!").
You'd think by this day and age people would understand the difference
between a Word doc and a web page. I didn't think anybody was this
out of touch, but apparently her whole department's up in arms over
it. I always assume when somebody tells me to post something that
they have their shit together first, that they know of the awfully
explicit insecurity of Office documents, that they don't care that
a malicious employee could theoretically take a file, alter its information,
and then email it to somebody else claiming that it was legit. This,
of course, would bring the company to its knees, halting several lines
of international commerce, and would eventually bring about a second
But really, who does that? The balancing factor
in big offices such as mine is the simple fact that everybody on
one end of the equation is as stupid and clueless and the people
on the other end. I wanna put a hit counter on the page in question
to see if anybody goes to it. Cuz I suspect there are exactly two
people who will ever spend any time there, me and the idiot who
commanded me to post dopey Powerpoint
But my heart will go on. Yes, indeedy. I'm feelin' better today.
Tonight I'm gonna climb a tree and either a branch or my body will
fall from it. See, the neighbor has a mulberry tree whose branches
have been growing into our airspace. The result is gobs
that rain down on us through the month of June. It might be okay
if these were the edible
variety of mulberry. But rather these are the white kind that taste
like dirt. Though humans don't like the taste, there are a few creatures
that enjoy it, namely huge-ass houseflies. The beginning of summer
has been filled with enormous swarms of flies coalescing in our
back yard, as I try to furiously sweep away the evil fruit.
Well, I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore! The
removal of the offending branch will occur one of two ways:
- I stand on the roof of our rickety patio on a rickety stepladder,
and I saw off the branch with a rickety cherry-picker saw I built
out of a handsaw and some broomsticks, or
- The handsaw clenched in my teeth, I will ascend the tree like
a rhesus monkey and saw the branch off myself.
The downside is that I can't do this in broad daylight. Oh no.
I must wait until nightfall and then, ninja-like, go about my deadly
business. My neighbor doesn't actually live in this house. It has
up for at least 20 years, but he comes by every few days to pound
nails and throw weeds in my yard. He doesn't look insane, but there's
really no other explanation. A man in his 60's is, very slowly,
attempting to renovate a crackhouse all by himself, armed only with
a hammer and a saucy beret he likes to sport. But the man owns property,
which makes him superior to all of us. From previous conversations
I feel that he would be against my tree-pruning, but since the branch
is growing out of his property, it's not legally his branch to cut.
And since the landlady isn't the type to scurry up a tree, I get
Posted By Jimmy Legs
30, 2003 at 09:32:30 (EDT)
I don't care about this world, I don't care
about that girl
I think this is gonna be one of those days wherein I despise everything
and everyone. It's already shaping up that way. My annoying roommate
sent me and email to ask me to call the landlady and get somebody
to spray for bugs, because she saw one (1) centipede roaming around
the living room. Later today I'm supposed to have a "chat"
with a friend of mine that will probably end badly. I'm still kind
of sick, plus I seem to have made B sick as well. Idiots from my job
are writing to remind me not to capitalize the word "and,"
something I have never done.
And George Bush is trying to make us forget how important finding
weapons of mass destruction was to his whole war-in-Iraq campaign.
Now the story is that we're looking for evidence that Iraq had at
one time or another the tools to make WMD. So now if we don't find
anything, it will still prove that Bush is right. This is how they
work, putting these new ideas into play, acting like they were there
all along. It's like how they introduce new characters on "The
Sopranos": suddenly some guy shows up and everybody's like,
"Hey, it's Richie's kid! It's Carmela's second half-cousin!"
I guess Bush figures if it works on TV, then it'll work anywhere.
So nobody forget: before the war, the administration heavily touted
the physical presence of WMD in Iraq, and now they're trying to
downplay this. They're leaving it open, though, so as not to look
even stupider if somebody does find something. A UK spokesman said
finding WMD now would be a "bonus." Hooray.
Also, I just got some coffee, so it'll be at least 20 minutes before
I can tolerate this planet.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
||Tuesday, April 29,
2003 at 16:59:57 (EDT)
I'm the chairman of the Bored
I forgot to tout this more highly, Ben and Jerry's is giving away
free ice cream today. Go get it, folks. I'd get some myself, but I
am still ill, and would only favor a Hall's-Eucalyptus flavored cone
right now. Oh yeah, Baskin Robbins is also giving it away until 10PM
tonight, but I don't know where any are around here.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
Ice Cream until 8PM
||Monday, April 28,
2003 at 12:00:00 (EDT)
Post Mysteriously deleted; that was my weekend
Note: I swear I posted this, but it is nowhere to be found. Perhaps
my illness is causing me to hallicucinate blogging. Now that's lame.
What can one say about the past two days? There was boozin'. There
was floozin'. There were long walks through unfamiliar neighborhoods
late in the night. There was supposed to be a guy dancing around
in his underwear, but we were too drunk to remember to ask for it,
just as he had foreseen. There was general disregard for one's well-being.
M got lucky.
Friday was the party with all of B's old college buddies, including
who was in charge of procuring huge cans of cheap beer to keep things
going. I had already been out with J&M, so maybe that had something
to do with how drunk I was. Or maybe it was the Screwdrivers I kept
drinking. I started calling them "screwballs" at some
point, a good benchmark for where I was at. A lotta fun people there,
just enough theater and IndyMedia
folks to make it interesting. Josh was trying to get me to do tequila
shots with him at some point, but I demurred. I think this was wise
on my part, considering how it ended up for him.
Saturday is kind of a blur. The only thing I accomplished during
the day was trying to use the Quattro
to make a multitrack recording. I love having this device to make
digital recordings (no tapes! limitless tracks!) but it's still
a pain in the ass. By the time I was finished it was already time
to go to another party. So I headed out, noting that I felt less
than spectacular. I met M at BAM
and we went up to some bar named Sweet
& Vicious for some theater people's birthday party (sometimes
I believe theater people are born in litters). I have no idea what
to say about this bar, because a) it was dark as fuck, and b) there
were so many people crammed in there you couldn't see if the place
was on fire (they had a nice back patio, but alas the door was locked,
which is probably a super-duper fire hazard). So we couldn't find
anybody we recognized so we ended up seeking out a pro-smoking bar
in the area. We walked all the way up to the 119
Bar, so pleasantly out of place with the Union Square/Gramercy
There we proceeded to sit and drink and talk until 3 in the morning.
I don't know how that happened except that we possibly lost a couple
hours while waiting in line for the toilet. We got the inside dope
from the bartender that when the smoking ban starts getting enforced
in May, there may be hope after all for us night-owls. But I'll
believe it when I see people lighting up after April 30.
Anyhow, the result of the weekend is that Sunday I woke up with
a cold. I think I'm still sick now, but I'm full of Ny-Quil so I
can't be sure. M came over and we spent the day recording some of
our songs. I didn't realize how exhausting it was until we were
done and I took to bed rather early. My sleep was plagued with nightmares
concerning naming my band. It's been a big discussion of late, but
in the dream we had decided to call the band "BMT", named
after the old Brooklyn-Manhattan
Transit agency. In some ways it's not a bad name, even while
conscious, but in the dream people kept confusing our band with
Transfer, which may explain why no band has used the name yet.
Posted By Jimmy Legs