I have been charged with a mission today, a mission I’d rather not complete. Go to Home Depot and line up getting carpet installed. This is in direct conflict with my “usual” schedule. I wake up early-6 is still considered early, these days, right?-make breakfast, spend a few hours trolling the Net for jobs, consequently band my head on the wall I even have to do this, try to do some sort of house stuff, cry, try to write something. I will also mix in going to the gym (keep me sane) or do something with the dog. You will note there is no mention of ‘shower’.
Shoot me, fucking shoot me. I hate Home Depot, hate Lowe’s, hate home improvements, hate tools, hate wrenches, hate it, hate it, hate it.
I do prefer HD over Lowe’s for some reason don’t ask me why. OK, I will tell you what my retarded reasoning is. Here’s is Jimmie Johnson, the current three-peating NASCAR Sprint Cup Champion. He is sponsored by Lowe’s.
I hate him because he is so successful. I hate him because that fag Jeff Gordon co-owns his team. I hate him because he is so goddamn bland and corporate and PC and vanilla. He gives the lamest cliché ridden interviews. Boring and vanilla. On the other hand here is Tony Stewart, who up u
ntil this year, drove for HD.
He is open and opinionated. He is aggressive on the track and will spin you out if you really piss him off. He is a 2 time champ. And I mean, just look at him’ he looks like he sustains himself on cheeseburgers and Molson Goldens. Yea, that’s who I wanna buy my tools from.
Plus, he used to have a monkey as a pet, and one day I want a helper monkey for myself. I am sure the monkey would be more adept at using a drill anyway. That’s what monkeys have opposable thumbs for, right?
Thankfully, in the yin and yang of our relationship, my wife is the tool head. She spends time in those stores like I used to spend time in record stores. God bless her for that. My most recent big tool purchase was a measuring tape. Big whoop.
I think I hate these stores because of that fucking show that started this whole home improvement movement. That one with that super-chipper host who you want to strangle with and electrical cord. Yea, Trading Spaces. I have it on good third hand knowledge that the show is faked. They shoot the bit with the couples, then kick them the hell out and get real workers to do the job. Think about it. Do you really think that just 2 dipshits can redo a kitchen in 2 days? Tear down tile, tear down drywall, rip down cabinets, reroute wiring, reroute plumbing, install new countertop, install new cabinets, put up drywall, tile, paint, wallpaper, install a new floor, build a new island, install a garbage compacter and lighting? Fuck no, open you eyes. But dumbfuck America buys it hook line and sinker. “Hey, look, that couple can do all that in one weekend, so can we!” No. No you cannot, not yours.
And would you really want your neighbors nosing around your stuff? Hell, no. I am convinced the neighbors next to us will be murderers. I am convinced there is something very odd going on in that house. The curtains are always drawn, you barely see the parents out, and you never see any of their 3 young kids running around in the backyard or going out for a walk. Fuck, they never even come out for Halloween. But I know one of these days, there’s gonna be news vans outside our houses. And I’m gonna have to be the dumb hick that says, “Duh, no, I never saw this coming. They were always quiet and kept to themselves. Snuffing cheerleaders on the web, you say? Yea, never saw that coming.”
Why are people so obsessed with this do it yourself thing when it comes to their homes? Would you try to fix the brakes on your car? No, so why is putzing around your house any more acceptable? In this economy, your house is the biggest asset you have, I get that. But what the fuck makes you think you can run electricity? Or properly install a deck? There are guys, good guys who can and will do this. Yes, it is costly, but think of the time and trouble you save yourself. Let a pro do the work. It shouldn’t be lost on anyone that you can’t spell “idiot” without “I do it”.
You would think laying a carpet would be easy. Remove furniture, take up the carpet (lucky for us it’s just an area rug), throw new carpet down, put furniture back in and life is normal. But NO! Of course it’s more fucking involved than that. No, you have to sweep and dust the floor. You have to order the carpet larger than the room so they can make the proper cuts. You have to install tacking. (O, so that’s how you get the edges to stay down) There’s the padding that goes beneath the carpet. You can’t have the carpet ‘sag’ in the middle. Then you have to air out the room because there’s chemicals in the carpet. Hey, if you can catch a high off the new carpet, I am down with that. Aside, geez, that’s a lot of fucking work.
The home improvement gods have not been kind to me since losing my job. We’ve had to replace the washer, dryer, fridge and now our shitty little TV in the bedroom finally flickered its last image. Now I can’t watch TV to help me fall asleep. Hopefully, all the voices in my head will get together and put on a play.
So I will wander in to HD. And I hate the way it makes me feel. I feel dumb. I feel stupid. I feel ignorant, retarded, clueless. I feel helpless, embarrassed, ashamed. I feel dopey, foolish, dense. I feel confused, lost, intimidated. I feel woefully inadequate.
In other words, how I feel every other day these days. I certainly don’t need ‘Stan’ back in ‘flooring’ to remind me of this fact.
I guess somewhere deep inside, I cling to that old school idea that a guy should be good with wrenches and saber saws. Maybe it’s because my dad is pretty handy. He has tools in the basement and garage. That’s a man there. It seemed growing up, if he had a situation he wasn’t familiar with, he went to one of 2 books. It was either the yellow or blue Reader’s Digest How To books. That was all he needed, those books somehow must have magically covered every scenario.
It’s not like as soon as you’re issued your balls, you are also graced with the know how to fix that running toilet or build a book case. I am so retarded, I couldn’t even hang a picture straight. Sure, they could draw me lifelike illustrations, get me NASA 3D technology, write it in simple steps even a 2nd grader could understand, and I would still hang the picture crooked. Probably backwards, too.
I am such a tool, I at least try to dress the part. I go in wearing old jeans, workboots-untied, of course-some ratty ass hoodie. Aw, who am I kidding? I might as well go in there in a tux or a sombrero. Hell, if I wore the sombrero, I could probably get some day work from the contractors in the parking lot.
Sigh, I have procrastinated long enough. Time to bite the bullet. Now if I can only find my hat with the propeller on top….
Shoot me, fucking shoot me. I hate Home Depot, hate Lowe’s, hate home improvements, hate tools, hate wrenches, hate it, hate it, hate it.
I do prefer HD over Lowe’s for some reason don’t ask me why. OK, I will tell you what my retarded reasoning is. Here’s is Jimmie Johnson, the current three-peating NASCAR Sprint Cup Champion. He is sponsored by Lowe’s.
I hate him because he is so successful. I hate him because that fag Jeff Gordon co-owns his team. I hate him because he is so goddamn bland and corporate and PC and vanilla. He gives the lamest cliché ridden interviews. Boring and vanilla. On the other hand here is Tony Stewart, who up u
ntil this year, drove for HD.He is open and opinionated. He is aggressive on the track and will spin you out if you really piss him off. He is a 2 time champ. And I mean, just look at him’ he looks like he sustains himself on cheeseburgers and Molson Goldens. Yea, that’s who I wanna buy my tools from.
Plus, he used to have a monkey as a pet, and one day I want a helper monkey for myself. I am sure the monkey would be more adept at using a drill anyway. That’s what monkeys have opposable thumbs for, right?
Thankfully, in the yin and yang of our relationship, my wife is the tool head. She spends time in those stores like I used to spend time in record stores. God bless her for that. My most recent big tool purchase was a measuring tape. Big whoop.
I think I hate these stores because of that fucking show that started this whole home improvement movement. That one with that super-chipper host who you want to strangle with and electrical cord. Yea, Trading Spaces. I have it on good third hand knowledge that the show is faked. They shoot the bit with the couples, then kick them the hell out and get real workers to do the job. Think about it. Do you really think that just 2 dipshits can redo a kitchen in 2 days? Tear down tile, tear down drywall, rip down cabinets, reroute wiring, reroute plumbing, install new countertop, install new cabinets, put up drywall, tile, paint, wallpaper, install a new floor, build a new island, install a garbage compacter and lighting? Fuck no, open you eyes. But dumbfuck America buys it hook line and sinker. “Hey, look, that couple can do all that in one weekend, so can we!” No. No you cannot, not yours.
And would you really want your neighbors nosing around your stuff? Hell, no. I am convinced the neighbors next to us will be murderers. I am convinced there is something very odd going on in that house. The curtains are always drawn, you barely see the parents out, and you never see any of their 3 young kids running around in the backyard or going out for a walk. Fuck, they never even come out for Halloween. But I know one of these days, there’s gonna be news vans outside our houses. And I’m gonna have to be the dumb hick that says, “Duh, no, I never saw this coming. They were always quiet and kept to themselves. Snuffing cheerleaders on the web, you say? Yea, never saw that coming.”
Why are people so obsessed with this do it yourself thing when it comes to their homes? Would you try to fix the brakes on your car? No, so why is putzing around your house any more acceptable? In this economy, your house is the biggest asset you have, I get that. But what the fuck makes you think you can run electricity? Or properly install a deck? There are guys, good guys who can and will do this. Yes, it is costly, but think of the time and trouble you save yourself. Let a pro do the work. It shouldn’t be lost on anyone that you can’t spell “idiot” without “I do it”.
You would think laying a carpet would be easy. Remove furniture, take up the carpet (lucky for us it’s just an area rug), throw new carpet down, put furniture back in and life is normal. But NO! Of course it’s more fucking involved than that. No, you have to sweep and dust the floor. You have to order the carpet larger than the room so they can make the proper cuts. You have to install tacking. (O, so that’s how you get the edges to stay down) There’s the padding that goes beneath the carpet. You can’t have the carpet ‘sag’ in the middle. Then you have to air out the room because there’s chemicals in the carpet. Hey, if you can catch a high off the new carpet, I am down with that. Aside, geez, that’s a lot of fucking work.
The home improvement gods have not been kind to me since losing my job. We’ve had to replace the washer, dryer, fridge and now our shitty little TV in the bedroom finally flickered its last image. Now I can’t watch TV to help me fall asleep. Hopefully, all the voices in my head will get together and put on a play.
So I will wander in to HD. And I hate the way it makes me feel. I feel dumb. I feel stupid. I feel ignorant, retarded, clueless. I feel helpless, embarrassed, ashamed. I feel dopey, foolish, dense. I feel confused, lost, intimidated. I feel woefully inadequate.
In other words, how I feel every other day these days. I certainly don’t need ‘Stan’ back in ‘flooring’ to remind me of this fact.
I guess somewhere deep inside, I cling to that old school idea that a guy should be good with wrenches and saber saws. Maybe it’s because my dad is pretty handy. He has tools in the basement and garage. That’s a man there. It seemed growing up, if he had a situation he wasn’t familiar with, he went to one of 2 books. It was either the yellow or blue Reader’s Digest How To books. That was all he needed, those books somehow must have magically covered every scenario.
It’s not like as soon as you’re issued your balls, you are also graced with the know how to fix that running toilet or build a book case. I am so retarded, I couldn’t even hang a picture straight. Sure, they could draw me lifelike illustrations, get me NASA 3D technology, write it in simple steps even a 2nd grader could understand, and I would still hang the picture crooked. Probably backwards, too.
I am such a tool, I at least try to dress the part. I go in wearing old jeans, workboots-untied, of course-some ratty ass hoodie. Aw, who am I kidding? I might as well go in there in a tux or a sombrero. Hell, if I wore the sombrero, I could probably get some day work from the contractors in the parking lot.
Sigh, I have procrastinated long enough. Time to bite the bullet. Now if I can only find my hat with the propeller on top….
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