I Remember...

...I'm radioactive. - Steve Martin

We're in the thick of hairball season here in PoCo. Almost every day we find a large, slick, fuzzy casting in the middle of the floor/rug/carpet/hallway. The collection is impressive. They really soak up the varnish nicely.

What I really need is a house with all-tile floors and drains every few feet or so and a fire hose. I suppose that would mean having all plastic furniture. The static electricity in the winters would be brutal. Maybe rubber instead. Or silicone. Stain-free, odor-free, fire hoseable furniture. I like it.

Ooh, but the electronics... OK, all-tile floors with drains and a fire hose, all silicone furniture and electronics housed in waterproof, deep-sea-worthy cabinets. The walls we could paint with marine paint over Tyvek-coated wall board.

Here's a random solicitor for you... the other day I hear a gentle tap at the door, a friendly, sounds-like-your-neighbor-just-popping-by-for-a-quick-chat sort of quiet knock, so I go to the door & open it up only to see a somewhat frazzled-looking guy I've never seen around here before.

He's standing back from the door a few feet, which is good I think, because I don't know who the hell he is or what he wants, and he starts telling me, in a shaky, quiet voice, how he's run out of gas and his bank card isn't working, and might I have any bottles I could donate?

This is when I couldn't be happier about having lived in downtown Oakland and the TenderNob, where I wore a constant, stony expression of barely-restrained homicidal rage and almost-suicidal indifference. This is the face I wear every time I open that door.

Before he'd finished his ridiculous question I blurted out No and shut the door.

Any *bottles* I could donate? How are you going to get all these bottles you're asking for to the recycling center to get those shiny nickels to pay for a litre of gas when you've RUN OUT of gas?

Did he go to every house on the block with this idiotic story? Do most people in these parts say Oh sure and leave the door open while they go about collecting bottles and cans for the drifter at the door? Does he think I don't watch TV and know just about every trick in the book to gain entry into someone's house?

Wellllll mister, I do! I DO watch WAY too much TV and I don't care if you're bleeding out your eyes and have asked me for a tissue. Piss off! Don't make me get my bat! I'll give you something to cry about! Now get off my property! Well, actually, we're renting. Good luck with the recycling!

Get Off My Lawn

What IS it with kids these days!? [Fogey Alert, but not really.]

Yesterday evening I had to pick up David from the train station, which requires timing it just right so I'm not waiting at the station forever, but I never want to be late, and then there's rush hour traffic... which means I never know exactly when to leave and I always end up rushing out of the house afraid I'm going to be late.

I had just gotten up from the computer to start the rush to get ready & run out the door when I heard the doorbell followed by a friendly knock. I though it must be our downstairs neighbor, so I was happy to answer and delay my departure for a few minutes.

I opened the door with my wallet, phone and keys in-hand to see two teenage boys standing there with binders in their hands. Fantastic.

Now, the door has a very obvious NO SOLICITING sign on it and to anyone with half a brain cell, it would appear that I am about to leave the house. But still, I cheerfully said, "Hi, what can I do for you?"

Boy #1 began his pitch, talking slowly, his voice shaking, telling me he's going to start dropping off a new, free newspaper next week so he can get credits that will go toward tuition at UBC next year. I told him I thought that was great, and then he interrupted me to tell me that he would just need me to cover the cost for weekend delivery.

I stopped him and asked, "So, you're selling me something, yes?" He emphatically said he wasn't, that he "didn't need any loonies or twonies today." I repeated the question in another way, explaining that if he's standing at my door, asking me to give any money to anyone or anything at any time, that's selling something, and the sign on my door means you cannot come here and try to sell me something. Don't come here at all, really, unless I've asked you to.

He became annoyed and tried to convince me that he was not selling anything, saying, "most of the houses in this neighborhood were built with those [signs], and it was probably there before you moved in."

Whoa, Betty, WHAT? WHAT the WHAT?

I laughed and told him maybe so, but I'd put the sign on the door myself, and if he's going to houses with those signs, he's not respecting the homeowners' wishes, which won't help him in his endeavors.

He continued to argue with me about this as I said "No thanks" and shut the door on him. I was amazed. I've done door-to-door sales, I know it's a shitty job, but his unabashed rudeness was incredibly irritating. Who does that?

If he does end up at UCB one day, he's going to need special classes, but I suspect he's going to end up at Horton's making the doughnuts.

Sorry God

Hi God, you imaginary prankster, you. Just wanted to say sorry to you and your witnesses of Jehova (that's Jumpin Jehosaphat's cousin, right?).

I'm sure your witnesses are fine fellows, but I had to take care of important business in the bathroom. As my Nana used to say, "I had to see a man about a dog."

Imagine my surprise when on my way to the bathroom the doorbell rang not once, but TWICE. TWICE means someone very important is at the door, like the UPS man or a bedraggled Canada Postman with a package requiring signature - something I really want and can't wait to open.

Imagine my disappointment when I opened the door to your spokespeople who wanted to hand me cheerful-looking pamphlets sporting bright sunshiney flowers. You're going to have to do better than bright sunshiney flowers.

I'm looking for boxes of cookies, coffee, doughnuts, kittens, shoes, or even Avon products. Flowers aren't gonna cut it.

Hand me a box of kittens or doughnuts and I'll listen to your folks prattle on about anything as long as that box stays full. If a kitten or doughnut jumps out, you'd better have another one to take its place.

With a curt but cheerful "No thank you! Good day!" I shut and locked the door and made tracks to the loo. When I came out, a forlorn El Gato Retardo was sitting by the front door. I'd just shooed away his people.

Just like JWs, Ninja believes Armageddon is near - every morning and afternoon just before feeding time. He also will not celebrate his birthday. Because he is a big dumb cat and does not know his birthday.

Anyway, sorry for shutting down your peeps and carrying on with my day. Got lots to do - building a giant cross in the back yard, snorting coke, aborting fetuses and making all the family decisions. As you can see, I don't have time for chatting on the porch. Give my love to Jesus.