Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
We've officially entered the hot and hazy days of summer up here in
northeastern Pennsylvania. Yesterday when I was driving home from Lowe's
(don't ask) my Blazer told me it was 100 degrees outside.
The thing has a tendency to exaggerate, but its heart is in the right
place; it was crazy hot. At a certain point on Interstate 81 it's like
you're looking down on the entire world from on high, and I saw this
gross, suffocating haze hanging over the valley: the devil's weather.
Some people claim to love this kind of heat and humidity, but I suspect
it's just showboating. That, or they're shit-juggling crazy. No sane
person could actually enjoy this. It's simply the worst.
Over the weekend Toney and I finally bit the bullet and installed the
new window air conditioner we bought at Sam's a few weeks back. Yes, yet
another one.... We have four of those ridiculous Soviet humboxes now,
and it pisses me off. But ya gotta do what ya gotta do.
We'd been putting it off because the installation process is far more
complicated than what we're (I'm) used to; those little bedroom units
are up and running within minutes. But with this big baby you have to
install the case first, then slide the works into it, etc. The whole
thing sounded like one huge aggravation to me, so I kept saying,
"Yeah, we'll get to that tomorrow."
But we'd put it off as long as we could, and on Saturday we got down to
bidness. And within an hour that thing was in the window, completely
sealed-off, a-purring and making wonderful cold air. It didn't take long
before the temperature in the living room, dining room, and kitchen was
noticeably lower, and eventually Andy stopped panting and drizzling
slobber everywhere, sighed with relief and went to sleep on the cool
hardwood floors. I nearly wept with joy.
The thing even has a remote control!
I'm not joking, that humbox changed
everything. Our quality of life improved instantly. No longer will we be
sweating directly into our mashed potatoes at dinner (no table salt
required), and no longer will I be walking around peeling the underwear
off my ass like the backing of a bumper sticker, after it becomes
suction-sealed across the great expanse.
Yes, I'm a happy, happy man. At least until we get our first electric
bill, and Toney says we can't use it anymore.... But that should be,
like, several weeks, right? Ahhh, it's gonna be paradise until the first
bill arrives.
-- On Sunday we were experiencing a bit of camping fever, and decided to
go on a scouting mission to a state park not too far from here. Lots of
people had suggested the place to us (Toney), but we'd never been. So,
we took Subway up on their Three Footlongs For Thirteen Dollars deal,
dropped them into a cooler, and hit the highway. With any luck, we'd
finally discover our local camping paradise, that most elusive of
destinations.
Supposedly it was only thirty miles away, but I think it was farther
than that just to the interstate exit. Then we drove for what felt like
another hour before we actually reached the park. But it looked really
nice, and we had high hopes.
Toney went into the office to ask for directions to the campground, and
I stayed in the car and cursed the FM transmitter I recently bought for
my iPod, which works great for a half-hour or so, then just suddenly shits the
bed for no reason. Grrrr.... That kind of thing makes me want to start
kicking out windows.
Make a left, they said, when exiting the parking lot, and we couldn't
miss the campground, "just a little ways down the road." And
we drove and drove and drove. What the shit?! Did we do something wrong?
I thought I could hear "Dueling Banjos," and somebody way off
in the distance say, "You've got a mighty perty mouf."
We passed through a section of forest that was especially creepy, and we
almost aborted the mission. There were big rocks everywhere and bizarre
plants, and, I'm almost certain, pterodactyls in the sky. I was sure we'd
taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque, but we eventually found the
campground, along with a sense of relief.
But, unfortunately, our good feelings didn't last; the place was
chockfull of hicks and derelicts. We drove around and saw people living
in what appeared to be semi-permanent dwellings constructed of travel
trailers, plywood, and trash bags. We saw filthy children walking around
with great drooping diapers that didn't appear to be even touching their
bodies, and lots of guys in horribly-stained undershirts and splotchy
facial hair.
We went around a corner and saw some snaggle-tooth hag sitting in a
radically-unlevel camping chair, with her cig plugged between her
skeleton fingers and pointed straight up like a flag. She was hollering
at her buzz-cut kids, just hollering. Her "man" was
nearby, buried to the waist in the engine of some horrible car, and
his back was covered in tattoos that looked like telephone book doodles.
Fuck dat. I hate to be a snob, but I ain't camping under those
conditions. In fact, I think state parks are out altogether; their
prices are not high enough to weed out the shitty. There's one about
five miles from our house, and it's extremely nice, but the campground
is often populated with people who look like they're on the run from
something or other. One time we saw a couple just sleeping in the dirt
beside their Camaro; they didn't even have a blanket with them. They
were probably exhausted after a long day of armed-robberies-gone-bad.
No, my idea of camping is fifty dollars per night, a full package of
premium cable channels, wireless internet, heated pool with water park,
an on-site lounge with happy hour, and a full-time fire-building
concierge. And I'm only sorta joking.
Hell, I'd be terrified to be in that place after dark with all
those Flannery O'Connor characters. Ya know?
-- And since we're on the subject, check this
out. You can now view both
Jesco White documentaries, right on your computer. If you haven't seen 'em,
you owe it to yourself to set aside a little time. Both are mind-blowing
affairs, and highly recommended.
-- Here are last night's Deadwood numbers. A little lower than normal,
but I have no doubt they'll make up for it in the coming weeks. It feels
like some shit is about to go down.
-- And finally, I need some help here. My Norton ant-virus is about to
expire again, and I really don't want to give them anymore of my money.
Are there some good alternatives out there, possibly even free services?
I don't know anything about it and would appreciate any guidance you can
provide.
--
We've officially entered the hot and hazy days of summer up here in
northeastern Pennsylvania. Yesterday when I was driving home from Lowe's
(don't ask) my Blazer told me it was 100 degrees outside. 