I’m almost here. But, not entirely. Pete is trying to unbreak whatever I break.
Go Back here for now.
I have to go away for a while. Not to an airport…from here.
First off, Incredipete is making me a new incredisite and it may take time.
Secondly, there’s some stuff here at home that needs attending to.
Not like you’ll miss me.
Interesting weekend on the whole.
Eh…who am I kidding…boring as hell. And I liked it.
I got home after my adventures in inept business travel on Thursday night. I was quite pleased to be home. And, amazingly, for the 2nd week in a row, I had an on-time flight. Who knew? The only setback was arriving to PHL about 5 minutes too late to switch to the 3:45 flight. I had to sit around and wait for the 5:30. If only I had chosen to piss my pants instead of stopping on the NJ Turnpike. Damn my bladder!
On Saturday, I come down here to the office and see an email from WarCryGirl. It seems she’s going to some fucktards festival in Atlanta and needs help with the travel arrangements. Now, considering that this is the same woman who blew her kids’ minds by taking them on an escalator back last summer, I knew I’d have to be gentle.
This would not be easy. She lives in Bumfuck NC and sits roughly 90 miles from any airport. And she’s got up to 4 to choose from! How can you live that far from so many airports? It’s amazing. And, since Atlanta is expensive to fly to, all 4 are…well…expensive. We got over that part early on and started looking for hotels. I think I found her some decent options in the area surrounding her lame-ass convention thing, but who knows? She’s likely to get lost and wander aimlessly. But hey, it’s not like Atlanta isn’t a safe place for an awestruck white lady from NC to be wandering in or anything. It’s got to be almost as safe as Detroit.
God Speed, lady. God Speed.
Boy…quite a game last night.
Eesh…that was ugly. And even the commercials sucked. One enjoyable part was sitting on the couch and listening to Shmuppie yell “Clean the camera” over and over again. Hey CBS, when a 4 year old is mocking your production, it’s time to sit a few plays out.
And, hey…did you know that both coaches are black? I would never have known.
It’s too bad Barbaro wasn’t there. His spirit was.
This should be a week filled with sorrow. On Wednesday, I’m heading to Long Island for the day. I’ll be flying up in the AM and home in the evening. I volunteered for this duty to score goodwill points and to avoid getting sent up there for the start of this week. I was in no mood to go to NJ for 3 days. So, up I go on Wednesday. At the same time, my crazed mother starts her trip down. By the time I land, she’ll be living in NC. I may try to get myself sucked into a jet turbine. It’s probably for the best.
My father’s driving down on Friday afternoon/evening. He’s also not staying at our house; instead choosing to martyr it up in their empty house. Fine by me. Shmuppie and I are going to be busy on Saturday when the truck arrives. I bought us tickets to the circus for Saturday afternoon. Coupled with a trip to the Farmer’s Market in the AM, I should be able to avoid any manual labor that day. I’m hoping for dysentery for Sunday to keep up the non-work. And, lucky girl that she is, while my father is sitting in traffic, JewelrySlut will be winging it to Northern Ireland. When I saw ChurchBomber and MerlotMan last week, I got some details of the upcoming trip. Sounds like it will involve a lot of beer and driving down to (as I call it) Real Ireland for sightseeing. They should have a good time.
Naturally, all this travel talk has me jonesing for a vacation. We have to be in NJ in May for my reunion. I’m convincing myself that flying from EWR to San Juan is not a god allocation of fiscal resources. As much as I’d like a week in the warm, it’s probably not a good idea. As it is, it will be summer here by them anyway. And, I’ll be in the middle of a mess and a half here at home.
The Homeowners Association’s annual meeting is in May and I have to come up with an idea for the dilapidated clubhouse by then. How do I fix this thing and not either bang every homeowner for a huge assessment or end up taking our Reserve Funds to a casino and putting it all on Red? Does anyone have like $200,000 I can have? Not borrow; have. Let me know.
Well, I have little or nothing else of any value to say.
Be careful when you step off the escalator, the steps are moving.
There’s probably a right way to do this: And when I say “this”, I mean pasting in an article from a newspaper. In this case, the esteemed News and Observer, Raleigh’s finest (and only) daily paper.
This Article, written by the esteemed Toby Coleman needs posting and commenting.
When I got home last night, the paper as on the table. JewelrySlut told me that I needed to read it. In fact, I HAD to read it.
I’ll also add that the article was on the front page of the front section. It was not the banner headline, but ran below the fold. The corresponding image was front and center on the page. It was in 4 mini-columns, each about 3″ high.
Too many details? No. Because they’re pertinent details.
And so we begin. My commentary will be in italics
CARY – No matter what happens this morning, Rick Nordman will have 5 inches of snow in his backyard, easy. Did they just write a sentence like that in a newspaper not published in a high school
His secret: He makes it in batches all night long.
Armed with a snow gun, a stump grinder and cigarettes It is the South after all, Nordman has built Cary’s first and only ski run. At the end of a Cedar Creek subdivision cul-de-sac, it’s 80 feet long. The jump is made of logs and boards. Nordman calls it “Roundtree Mountain,” after his street.
On Wednesday night, Nordman surveyed his slope with his buddy, Jimmy Earp Yup, it’s officially the South. We have a friend named Jimmy Earp. Nordman, 37, who keeps a soul patch of whiskers under his lip filling the column inches word by painful word. Or maybe, the writer, The Esteemed Toby Coleman, feels that words are his colors and he needs to paint us a picture, was bundled in a red parka and black wool hat.
“I love snow,” At this, I commented how much I love cheese he said. “I had been up snowboarding and they had snow guns running and I said, ‘Man, if I had one of those I could bury my yard in snow in a day.’ “
It was mere whimsy Ahhh…whimsy…and when there’s whimsy, we always know what’s nearby until Earp found a $748 snow gun online. Nordman got Earp to pay for half, then borrowed a pressure washer and an air compressor. He had snow by mid-December.
Then, he transformed his back porch into a ski deck. He already had the hot tub, the outdoor heaters and the fountain. Note to self: Never go to Cary again
Making snow is no cakewalk. No, I’m sure it is not. Nordman and his buddies have had to stay up until the wee hours drinking beer and feeding the gas-powered pressure washer connected to the snow gun. there we go: Whimsy’s friend, Beer, has arrived He checks the humidity. What? After bedtime, he gets up every couple of hours to monitor the operation.
“He is ate up with it,” Earp said. What you need to understand, non-local readers, is that Cary stands for Congested Area of Relocated Yankees. It’s where people from the northeast go. We chose to avoid it like the plague because 1: it’s awful, and 2: it’s awful. But, I can only imagine the looks on the faces of the tight-ass NJ people who live nearby to someone whose last name is not only Earp, but uses sentences like “He is ate up wth it” “If I had done it on my own, there might be some snowmaking. But he’ll get up in the middle of the night. He’s very diligent.”
Nordman’s snow is visible from Southwest Maynard Road, a major street. Thanks for the geography lesson Some people stare. Others take pictures.
“I call my wife in the mornings and say, ‘He’s making snow again!’ ” said Phillip Spangler of Pittsboro, who dropped by Wednesday. By “He’s making snow again”, I get the feeling it’s more like “Honey, have you checked our shitters?”
A few have asked Nordman how much he would charge to cover their yards. This gave Nordman, who is in sales, an idea for a side business: freelance snowmaker.
“That was the latest epiphany,” he said, while discussing the business plan, which includes putting a big sign over the slope. the other being the idea to get a dog to run for Congress
Enough about business. Nordman cranked on the snow machine, grabbed his snowboard and started hiking uphill.
“Now,” he said, “I need a ski lift.”
And, there, folks, is why we get Sunday delivery of the NY Times. We may hate all liberals, but at least they can write.
Wow. I was stupefied by the whole article. A veritable writing Tour De Force. And, this comes from me, of all people.
Back at home now for the next 3 weeks. Goodie for me. This was not a fun week.
However, it was an interesting week over Here.
Monday: Barbaro died
Thursday: ESPN started allowing comments on their articles
All in between: Discussion of Super Bowl-related stuff.
But, I think something has shifted. Sports may never be reported upon the same way after this week at Deadspin. It’s hard to put a fine point on it, but a shift has happened. They’re calling it a revolution. I think I agree with them. God, do I ever love me some Deadspin.