Blootered Cerebrations

Screaming at the Handicapped

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 12:45:00 +0000

I was already in a foul mood.

The backstory: I happen to live in a city where I still have to let a water meter reader into my house to read the meter and decide how much to bill me. Never mind that it's 2010 and it technology exists (and is cost effective) to allow the water department to install automatic meter reading equipment, or to even put the meters outside the house... I still have to let a meter reader into my house.

If I miss the meter guy (who of course only comes during the day when most people are at work) they leave a card in my door so I can take a self-read and phone it in. I missed the meter guy last week, so I jotted down the numbers on my meter and phoned it in.

When I called they let me know that I was slated for disconnection, not because my bill wasn't current, but because it had been too long since a meter reader had read my meter; I had done too many self-reads....

So I'm already seething that I have to wait around all day for this guy to show up, only because my democrat-controlled city can't afford to modernize.

The frontstory:

I was in my kitchen finishing up some dishes, hands dripping-wet and soapy, when meter boy arrives and rings my doorbell FIVE times in rapid succession. He waits all of two seconds, then rings it EIGHT more times, then immediately starts banging on the door like a cop with a search warrant... he must have banged 15 times. I was drying my hands off and, as the frantic pace of the banging and ringing continued, I started thinking that it wasn't the meter reader, perhaps it was a neighbor with some sort of emergency... the banging was at a frantic sort of "emergency" pace.

The offender waits a full five seconds, and starts with the ringing again as I'm making my way to the door, convinced I'm going to see one the the neighbor kids with his hair on fire or something. Instead, I clearly make out the silhouette of a city meter reader, still ringing away. I'm not sure how long he would have kept ringing, because somewhere around ring #12 I got to the door, flung the door open and yelled, "What the FUCK is your problem?!?! Easy on the doorbell, you MORON!"

He started to say something, holding up his stupid water badge, but I interrupted to say, "If you can hold your horses for a second, I'll put my dogs away so they don't bite your impatient ass!"

He muttered out an "Okaaaaay" in what I should have realized was a little bit more of a rainman tone than most people have in their voice, and I slammed the door in his face, put the dogs away, then went back to the door. I ripped the the door open, preparing to launch into another diatribe, and for the first time I looked the man squarely in the eyes to make sure I got my point about his doorbell manners across clearly...

This is when I noticed that the man I had been screaming at was about two IQ points above screaming "Frank and Beans!" and wearing his pants on backwards; which is to say that I realized I had been cussing and screaming at a clearly mentally handicapped man who was doing his best to make his way in a cold, mean world.

Yes, I am a colossal asshat.

A convenient place to poop

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 11:20:00 +0000

You wouldn't think there would be anything so special about simply having a place to poop, but in my house it's a thing no longer taken for granted.

You see, seven months ago I started remodeling our main bathroom. Our secondary bathroom is in the basement two levels below the the main bathroom... so for seven months we've been running all the way to the basement every time nature called or it was time for a shower.

The reasons for the long remodel time are a combination of time, money, laziness, and incompetence (mine, as well as the people before me.) Last week I finally got a toilet in the new bathroom, with Nathaniel's help (he fit under the toilet much better than I did):

Never satisfied, my wife complained because there were not yet any lights in the bathroom. Apparently pooping by flashlight is as inconvenient as running all the way to the basement to poop.

So this week... we have lights:

We're getting there... with any luck, the vanity will be installed soon and the shower/tub surround will be tiled shortly thereafter.

Then I'm selling all my tools and moving to an apartment.

25 Things...

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 14:18:00 +0000

(I'm reposting this from when I started this little "25 thing" adventure because I realized that most people who wander onto Blootered will start reading here and go up from here, rather than backwards from November. Make sense?)

A year or so ago, one of those annoying little facebook trends went nuts, and everyone was posting "25 Random Things" about themselves. I didn't get into it then... But now, looking to get my creative writing juices flowing again, I think I'll give it a shot.

Due to my tendency to get a bit wordy, my plan is to post one "thing" every day or so until I'm done. (I'm sure that of the few people who read this, even fewer would have the interest to read all 25 items in one sitting.)

A few notes:

1. the things aren't really "random" at all. I'm not sure that a completely sane person is even capable of "randomly" accessing their brain. The items are pretty well thought out, and hopefully written well enough to keep your
attention.

B. The order the items appear in is random, at least as random as is possible in keeping with #1 above. Don't read anything into the order of my list. If an entry about "cheese" happens to be listed before "Jesus" that doesn't necessarily mean I worship cheese. (although friends who have seen me with a good slice of cheese may occasionally wonder.)

III. If it gets too sappy or personal for your tastes, screw off & get your own blog where you can write about your man-boobs or whatever interests you. This is my blog: If you don't like it, sue me. (You won't be the first.)

Quatro: You'll see in many of my posts that I'm a person of great internal contradiction. Don't leave comments pointing out my contradictions. Or do. I don't really care what you think, but I'd tremendously enjoy reading your thoughts.

Have a nice day ... I'm off to edit these 25 silly drafts.

#1

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 13:55:00 +0000

I've always enjoyed traveling and have hit all of the lower 48. (Which, as an aside, is a strange way to refer to Hawaii, which I believe is the "lowest" of all states in terms of latitude ... perhaps I should stick with "contiguous.") I very much want to travel the rest of the world at some point. Thus far in life my international experience has been limited to a cruise to the Bahamas, and a few trips to Canada. I'm quite jealous of my little brother, who has managed to visit every continent except Antarctica (so far.)

I'd love to be able to actually live in another country for a period of time; to be able really soak up a bit of the culture and thoroughly explore. For the most part, I want to visit some countries that probably aren't all on most people's standard "let's do Europe" package tour. I have no particular interest in seeing France or Spain or Italy, but I'd certainly go if the opportunity arose.

In no particular order, the countries I'd most like to visit are:

Ireland, Scotland, Japan, Russia & Ukraine, Israel, India, Nepal, Chile, and one of the Somethingistans. Not sure which one... but one of them. I'm sure there are other places I'd love to visit, but these top the list for now.

I doubt I'll ever make it to all the places on my list, but I'm determined that I'll at least bang one or two off before I myself bang off, so to speak.

#2

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 15:31:00 +0000

I used to be a rock climber.

I think at this point in my life I'm pretty secure in using the words "used to." I'm too fat and out of practice to ever go back to that life again. Maybe.

I've climbed Devil's Tower, in the Needles/Black Hills near Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota, in Yosemite, in Colorado, and in bunches of gorges and crags here in the east.

Some of my favorite memories are of sun warmed granite, bloody knuckles, trusted partners, and near-paralyzing fear.

While talking about those days sometimes make me feel like the middle-aged washed up high school football player re-living his glory days long past his prime, one thing remains for me: Even if I never make it back there, I've done those things. Nothing can take that away.

#3

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 16:26:00 +0000

I'm a perpetual student, but I like it that way. I go to school for a few years, then take a few years off. I would, perhaps prefer a few less "off" years. Academics keeps the mind exercised and sharp. If I don't keep myself challenged intellectually, I end up with a lazy, slow brain.

And then I stop blogging. And no one wants that.

#4

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 13:25:00 +0000

I detest laziness in others and in myself.

That said, I'm probably one of the laziest people I know.

#5

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 13:32:00 +0000

I quite like beer.

Funny, I was never a drinker in my early years. I honestly didn't even have my first beer until I was well into my 21st year of life. Heineken at Applebees in Trotwood.

Beer is good.

#6

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 13:53:00 +0000

"I have come to the conclusion that politics is too serious a matter to be left to the politicians." ~Charles de Gaulle

As I go through life, I've decided that one of my most solemn responsibilities is to make sure that my children and grandchildren enjoy the same liberties, rights, and opportunity that I have. I've determined for myself that providing a good education for my children is one way to accomplish this, and the other is to do everything I can to keep the country and my community moving in the direction I believe it should be going.

I threw myself into politics for the first time in 1996, and every election cycle since then I've found myself increasingly involved. I have no plans to be a candidate for anything; I've already seen my name on a ballot so there's no real novelty there anymore.

I prefer to continue to be the smoky-back-room and secret mission sort of guy, and I just look forward to the day when Keith and I can share that Georgetown apartment: Keith as Mike's driver and me as... umm, I don't know... "Minister of General Mayhem?"

#7

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 14:18:00 +0000

On November 1 1987 I got to meet Bono behind the Hoosier Dome before the Rattle & Hum concert. He's a short bloke. I've never written about this one before, so it'll be a bit longer than my other items:

Landon and I had gone to the concert, and decided to get there about 9 hours early, for no particular reason. As we walked around the outside of the massive Hoosier Dome, we found the garage entrance where the limos would undoubtedly arrive, and noted that there were people hanging around. We saw a few folks we knew, so we decided to hang out a while and see what was up. The crowd grew to probably fifty or so people, and eventually, the limos came whipping around the corner and into the garage. Girls screamed, people waved and yelled, then the garage door closed and more than half the people left.

With nothing else to do, we hung out back there a bit longer, talking to other U2 fans we had met. More people left, and it started to drizzle. Even more people left, talking about walking across the street to get some dinner before the show started. Broke-ass poor, Landon and I didn't have any money for dinner, so we decided to hang a bit longer. Just as the six or eight of us who were left were deciding it might be time to go find our seats and started walking away, a door cracked open and a crew member of some sort yelled for us to wait. I figured we were in trouble.

He called us over to the door and said, "You guys have been standing out here all day and Bono wants to come out and meet you." Turning very serious, he added, "Any yelling, any grabbing, anything stupid and we take him back inside and it's all over."

I remember looking at the girls that were in our little group and telling Landon, "If one of them screams, I'm going to punch her in the mouth..."

None of them did, and the next thing I knew, one of my biggest heroes walked through the door, right up to me, stuck his hand out, and said, "My name's Bono, what's your name?" Bono then stood around, signed autographs, and talked to us all for a good fifteen or twenty minutes. I didn't have anything on me for Bono to sign, so he drew a picture of the Edge on my Joshua Tree shirt, which he also made sure to laughingly point out wasn't officially licensed merchandise! (Ooops.)

Considering the wave he and the band were riding in 1987, I found him to be genuine, humble, soft spoken, and quite convivial. I'm not sure if I more enjoyed meeting Bono, or being punched by President Bush.

#8

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 15:05:00 +0000

I am equally happy alone, or in the company of my family or friends.

While I absolutely enjoy the time I spend with friends or family, I also very rarely find myself "lonely" when I'm alone. I have absolutely no problem sitting at a bar or a restaurant alone; although if I find myself alone, a friend who walks in is almost universally welcomed at my table or next to me at the bar, because my favorite memories always feature people I love.

#9

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 14:32:00 +0000

Montani semper liberi!

Every couple of years, the mountains call me. Actually, they call me quite a bit more often, but the constraints of time and money require me to silence their beckoning until it becomes so loud I can no longer ignore it... this happens about once every couple years.

Few things a man can do can put life into perspective like strapping a pack on his back and charging out into the wilderness alone or with a couple of friends. I'm blessed that my wife tolerates these excursions, most likely because she knows what an intolerable bastard I would be if I weren't able to recharge myself in the mountains every now and then.

This last summer I was fortunate enough to be able to take my sons with me for their first "big" trip... nine days in Colorado. The feeling of setting up our high camp around 11,400 feet or so, at the very top of a beautiful mountain basin, and being able to share my love for the wilderness with my boys is something I'll never forget. No matter how special the mountains were to me before, their value to me increased tenfold upon watching my sons learn to love the high places the way I do.

"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean." - John Muir

#10

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 12:45:00 +0000

In 2006 I fell off a cliff while trying to rappel, something I had done hundreds of times before. (err... the rappelling, not the falling.) It was caused by a foolish mistake on my part, and it hurt really really bad, but for some reason, Mike and I were laughing about it within minutes of me being able to speak and breath (albeit quite weakly and shallowly) again.

I won't re-hash all the details, but at the time I made some notes here on Blootered.

As souvenirs, I still have a sketchy ankle and some really pretty scars on the palm of my right hand.

#11

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 13:11:00 +0000

I'm severely addicted to my iPhone.

Several years ago, I never thought I'd be one of those "gadget-addicted" freaks. I even remember when Mike & I worked together back in 2000 and he got his first Palm Pilot. I looked over at him with scorn on my face and in my voice and said, "Oh, so you're going to be one of those pretentious assholes in the checkout lane at the grocery store who's screwing around with his palm pilot?"

within a couple weeks of watching Mike use his Palm, my disdain had turned to jealousy and I went out and one-upped him by getting the latest gadget, the Handspring Visor.

Mike's usually ahead of the gadget-race, although I enjoy the occasional brief moment in the lead. I got my iPhone first, but he got a 3g iPhone. I briefly pulled ahead with an iPhone 3gS until I dropped it in a toilet. Now we're neck-in-neck with matching 3g's.

I will eventually win; however, when I become the first to integrate a neural network right into the base of my skull and become the first cyborg in our little group of drinking buddies.

That's my plan, anyway.

#12

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 10:03:00 +0000

"A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." - Proverbs 17:17

I truly believe that "love" means forever. Without getting too deep into the philosophical and theological divarications on love, I'll give you my brief synopsis of love the way I see (and try to live) it:

If I've ever told you that I love you, I always will. Period. I have old friends (and yes, some were girlfriends) that at some point I came to find myself loving. I still love all those people, even if I rarely or never see or hear from them. That's just the way I'm wired. Old fashioned, strange, whatever it is... that's me.

I'm also a bit of an asshole who chooses his true friends very carefully. I much prefer to have four or five close friends who I can trust with anything... who know where the bodies are hid... than dozens of smiling acquaintances waiting to stab me in the back. Proverbs warns that a man of many companions may come to ruin.

I'm not big on ruin.

#13

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 12:49:00 +0000

While we're on the topic of religion; I'm an ordained minister. I was ordained on the Internet in 2006 during a period of boredom while sitting at home recovering from #10. It's all completely legal and recognized by the state and all that good stuff. This last October, I even officiated a marriage for some friends:

Yeah, that's me. The Reverend. Available to do weddings... just shoot an email my way.

I think it's quite fun. My wife is convinced there's a special place in hell for me because I'm "not really" a minister, and most of my friends and family just kind of laugh nervously and don't really seem to get it.

Oh well. I get it.

#14

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 13:45:00 +0000

On religion.

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” - Mahatma Gandhi

I've said before: that as I get older my politics becomes increasingly conservative while my Christianity becomes increasingly liberal. There's an awful lot of "love" stuff in the Bible, let's focus on that.

I grew up in an extremely conservative evangelical private Christan School. I took many things from that experience, both good and bad.

The good: I studied the Bible inside and out, front to back, and many books of the Bible several times over. Enough times that I think I actually ended up "getting" it. I learned to stand up for what I believe in and to actually believe in something.

The bad: Gandhi hit the nail on the head.

#15

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:45:00 +0000

Jobs I could have had, almost had, that I didn't pursue or that I chickened out on:

Chick-Fil-A Manager Guy
Taco Bell Manager Guy (Although I was a Taco Bell taco-maker.)
U.S. Marine
Heavy Equipment Operator in Visalia CA
Resupply Sherpa for a Christian mountaineering company
Window Washer in San Fransisco, CA
Computer Tech Support Guy
Climbing Bum
Dispatch Driver: delivering new motor homes, firetrucks, etc cross country.
Backpacking/Climbing/Wilderness instructor
Cop in Breckenridge Colorado

Looking at that list, those also seem to be related to post #16 below.

With the exception of the fast food jobs and the Breckenridge job, those are probably all jobs I'd like to try out at some point if the opportunity ever presents itself again.

Well, maybe not the sherpa thing. My knees aren't what they once were.

#16

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 13:09:00 +0000

"Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention.
I did, what I had to do, and saw it through, without exemption."

When I look back over my relatively short life thus far, I really have very, very few things I regret or wish I would have done differently. When I do, it's usually in the form of a "what if I had..." instead of a "I wish I had..." More a curiosity than a true regret, I suppose. My regrets also almost universally entail some experience I had been presented with that I didn't take advantage of at the time.

As I think about it, none of them are interesting enough to force you to read about, so I'll spare the details and jump to the conclusion: I've had a good run, and I'm looking forward to the second half.

#17

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 11:05:00 +0000

I've got three kids so far, and I'm pretty sure that my severed vas deferens will prevent any future kids. But it was an open ended procedure, meaning that the "producing" side was left open in order to prevent blue balls (or medical babble something something) so I guess there's always a possibility.

Kids are the most amazing creatures. Someone told me once that it was my job to teach my kids and raise them. The opposite seems to be true; most of the time I learn from my kids and they teach me stuff.

#18

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 12:57:00 +0000

I happen to love food.

My love for food is likely what contributes most to my rather roundish shape. Food is a wonderful thing, and we were blessed with bodies designed to not only need food, but also designed to enjoy food. To taste it, smell it, & savor it.

Food gives me time to enjoy the company of my family and friends. I don't belive the social aspects of breaking bread together are anything new, or unique to our modern world. I'm pretty sure that long, long, ago Oggetta and Hagar sat down in the opening of their cave, gathered their friends, and tore into the flesh of a wooly mammoth together.

#19

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 12:23:00 +0000

I'm the only person I know who has been punched by the President of the United States.

On October 28, 2004 I was fortunate enough to get to greet President George W. Bush as he got off Air Force One. We shook hands, talked for a few minutes, then he decided to punch me in the shoulder.

I thought it prudent to not punch back.

#20

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 12:20:00 +0000

I very much dislike the gay-rights political movement. I'm not sure exactly what gay-priders expect to accomplish with pride parades and the like, but it gets on my nerves. Which, now that I think about it, might actually be their goal.

I very much believe that what people do with their penises in the privacy of their own house, car, or bus station bathroom is their own business, not mine or the government's. As long as you don't impose your genitals on my genitals, we'll get along just famously. If two gay people want to get married, I absolutely cannot find any reason to deny them that happiness. No one has yet to make a credible argument for me explaining how two people of the same sex getting married will hurt me... because it won't. Of all the problems the world faces, and of all the horrible sin that's in the world, is two people loving each other really something that should concern us?

So... do whatever you want with your genitals, except putting them on parade.

#21

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 12:38:00 +0000

I'm a huge believer in karma, or balance, or yin and yang, or whatever you want to call it. Hanging in front of me is a little note that says, "3,535." Few people know what it means to me, but here's the short version:

Once upon a time someone did something evil. I smiled and thought to myself, "He'll get his." Exactly 3,535 days later, Karma came along and bitch slapped him. Every time I'm dealing with a difficult person or situation, I just remember that it might take 3,535 days ... but it will get better.

Also, every time I do something screwed up or mean, I'm reminded that just when I least expect it, 3,535 days later, karma might make me zip my scrotum up in my jeans. Karma's funny that way.

Be a good person. You don't want karma to zip your nuts.

#22

noreply@blogger.com (ewtotel) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 12:22:00 +0000

I was fortunate enough to meet the love of my life when I was 18.

Today, I'm even more fortunate that she's stuck around all these years. She puts up with my iPhone addiction, beer brewing, politics, laziness, grumpiness, trips to the mountains, frivolous spending, and weird work hours. Being married isn't easy; being married to me must be damn near impossible.

Come to think of it, I kinda hope she doesn't read this... Seeing all that listed in one place might be enough to make her want to split.

Which would suck, because there's no one I'd rather hang out with, talk to, laugh with, live with & grow old with.

To steal a line from Ronald Reagan, I get lonely when she leaves the room.