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.
--
And we're back.... I hope you guys had a pleasant holiday. I'm happy to
report that ours was very nice indeed, despite the soul-sapping heat and
humidity that's installed itself right up the poopshoot of our lives.
That big Soviet humbox that we bought from Sam's in the spring has
turned out to be the greatest thing ever. It completely cools the main
level of our house, and changes everything. Now we have a means of
escape at our disposal, and are no longer mumbling mental patients
between June and September. It's a new, more civilized era at the
Compound.
Somebody asked me recently why we've never sprung for central air. Well,
let me tell you.... We've had at least two, possibly three, companies
come out and give us estimates on it, and the news was not good. The
layout of this place is hard to explain, but believe me when I tell you
that it would be one hell of an undertaking to add ductwork. In fact,
there's a section of the house, the family room and the bunker, which
they say they couldn't reach at all(!). So, what we're looking at is
$10,000 (or so) to cool part of the house. And that seems like an
awful lot of money for a half-assed effort. Ya know?
We've looked at alternatives, such as ductless air conditioning. But
that would also require a wheelbarrow full of cash. We might very well
go that route in the long run, but for right now.... we're clinging to
our vibraboxes. Just like everybody else in this part of the country.
-- I usually come out of these long weekends feeling guilty about
something, but this one was perfectly calibrated. I spent lots of time
with the Secrets, knocked out the yard work early (as Toney cleaned up
the flowerbeds and whatnot), got the inside of the house all dusted and
vacuumed, engaged in two full-blown deck feasts, drank a substantial
amount of beer, went out to eat a couple of times, and spent eight solid
hours yesterday working on my extracurricular writing project.
As shocking as it seems, there's NOTHING to beat myself up about this
morning. And I'm just not accustomed to such emotions.
-- We allowed Secret 1 to buy an airsoft
gun on Friday, and that's been quite the ordeal. The first one was a
rifle sort of thing that ran on batteries, and lasted for about fifteen
minutes. It was an automatic, and continued firing as long as you held
the trigger. But it quickly shit the bed and started making a godawful
grinding noise, so we took it back.
The guy at Dick's Sporting Goods rolled his eyes and talked to me like I
was the biggest idiot who ever walked the earth. He asked if I'd
remembered to put the BBs in, then said, "And what about the
batteries?" Grrrr.... Eventually he realized that the gun was, in
fact, broken. And I gave him one of those silent, extra-long West
Virginia stares.
The second gun, a pistol that you have to cock before each shot, lasted
a little longer, possibly a full hour. But it finally flew apart and a
large spring came out, along with some other stuff. We all worked at
putting it back together, but only managed to get ourselves whipped into
a frenzy of bug-eyed frustration. Toney took this one back.
So now we're on gun number three, and it seems to be a keeper.
On Saturday I spent at least an hour on the deck, in a shooting contest
with the Secrets, and it was a lot of fun. We were trying to hit a
target way down in the yard, and it wasn't an easy thing to do. Those
little dingleberries hook and slice and curve upward, and do all sorts
of unpredictable things. But I finally hit it, causing me to cut loose
with an involuntary rebel yell straight off the Molly Hatchet Gator
Country Tour '78.
I have a tendency to get a little carried away.
-- I'm thinking about having the door to the subterranean Surf Report
bunker replaced with one of these babies. What do you think? I'd also
like to have it wired so that the only way to open it is to pull a
specific book off the shelf, or swivel the head of a statue, or
something like that. You know, like on Scooby Doo.
-- I'm also very seriously considering placing an order for this . I've
been experiencing a twenty-five year hankering, and believe it's high-
time to do something about it.
I was also partial to Big Mouth gum back in the day, which was nothing
but an outsize block of sugar-spangled green apple bubble gum, with a
perforation running down the middle of it. Remember that? Kids would bet
each other that they could wedge the entire thing into their mouths
(their Big Mouths),
then drool all over themselves like stroke victims. Good times.
What are your favorite, no-longer-available vintage candies?
-- And finally, I'm gonna end today's update with a multiple-choice
quiz.
Do you believe this photo is (a) a scene from the annual Willie Nelson
Fourth of July Picnic (b) swooning fans at the big Septic Tanks of
Tomorrow Jamboree in Dog Balls, Alabama (c) a pair of Siamese hags
joined at the neck fat?
I'll have the answer next time. Please, no cheating!
--
And we're back.... I hope you guys had a pleasant holiday. I'm happy to
report that ours was very nice indeed, despite the soul-sapping heat and
humidity that's installed itself right up the poopshoot of our lives.