So I got a dog.
For most people this isn’t a big event. Most people grown up with four legged creatures jumping in their lap, licking their face, and voiding their bladders wherever they choose. Most people find these traits to be endearing; they can’t imagine living a life without an animal to come home and snuggle up with.
I’m not most people.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate animals. It’s not like I’m rooting for Fiddo to get hit by a bus or anything. But I didn’t grow up with pets, so the traits I listed above just seem…unpleasant to me. My wife, on the other hand, has been dying to get a dog for years now.
“They just love you!” she would tell me. “You come home and they’re always happy to see you! They just love you!”
I tried to explain that my television felt this way about me and that I didn’t need to take it outside to pee. But she found the TV to be less then snuggly. So back in November, while she was working late and I was bonding with Stevie The TV, I got a text from her with a picture of the tiniest dog I’d ever seen. Below that was the word “Please!”
I believe my exact thought was: Shit
She came home and gave me the details. The dog was a black and white Rat Terrier, a male puppy that was only a few months old. One of the patrons brought it in to the library and now Rachael was asking me what I thought about bringing him home. What could I do? I love my wife madly so the only real answer was to embrace change and become a dog owner.
I hate change.
So a couple of days latter a shoe sized pup we named Marco entered our house. At least he was small. That was my one condition, if we were to get a dog I had to be able to take it in a fight. Again, most people see a giant dog and think how pretty it looks, or how it will make a good protector. I see a dog and I immediately think of how I would defend myself if it went all Cujo on me. With Marco weighing all of four pounds I felt safe. And that’s exactly what Marco wanted me to think.
It’s now three months later and Marco is a part of the family. My wife often proclaims her love for him. I…care for him…deeply… but my feelings aren’t to that level. Rachael and I just have different relationships with the dog. Here’s the best example:
One day I came home from work and Marco was a hyper hypo. The dog just would not leave me alone. He didn’t want to play, he didn’t want to eat. He just wanted to be in my face. I tried to put him on his doggie blanket that he likes to nest in but he wasn’t having it. He just wanted to stand on my lap and stare into my eyeballs. No matter what I tried he would just not lay down. Frustrated, I started to walk upstairs to hide in the bathroom. Marco darted under my foot and I crashed jaw first on to the top step. As I lay there clutching my jaw making sure all my teeth were still attached, Marco stood on my head and sniffed at my face.
Soon Rachael came home and Marco calmed down. He snuggled in her lap and sweetly looked up at her. He remained in that position until bedtime. As I sat next to them, rubbing my jaw, I told Rachael how Marco stood on my head. She tried to convince me that he was worried about me and was checking to see if I was okay. Maybe she was right. Maybe he loves me just like all the dogs on TV love their masters. But as I was lying there, running my tongue across my teeth, Marco’s nose on my forehead; I could have sworn I heard a tiny little voice saying, “This is my house, sir. Now go make me a sandwich!”
Friday, February 4, 2011
Friday, October 8, 2010
He-Man
When I was a kid I became He-Man.
At least that was my goal. When I was seven-years-old I decided to go as He-Man for Halloween. I would’ve liked to achieve this by hoisting my Power Sword into the sky and bellowing out “BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL! I HAVE THE POWER!!!!” but that wasn’t an option. So it was off to G.L. Perry for some costume shopping.
As their jingle correctly claimed, Perry’s did indeed have something for me. Every year Perry’s had a giant wall of boxed Halloween costumes. Boxes with pictures of your favorite cartoon characters and a little plastic window to show you the mask that would transform you from a hyper-active child to a hyper-active child in a cheap plastic mask. Looking back now these costumes were horrible. No matter the character the costume was basically the same. A plastic jump suit and a mask. The jump suit often featured a picture of the character looking awesome, even dynamic. Which wasn’t exactly how the garbage bag made you look. The plastic masks had tiny holes in them. The thought being that you would use them to see and breathe.
Heh.
Before you were thirty seconds into your Trick-Or-Treating the mask was filled with condensation. Another thirty seconds and you started to sweat. By the time that first Snicker’s bar hit your sack you were on the verge of passing out. Who knew that dressing yourself in a garbage bag could be so dangerous?
After a couple of houses you’d give up walking with the mask on and only cover your face the second before you rang the door to beg strangers for candy. As the night went on you’d momentarily envy the kids dressed as Dracula or some other creature not featured on Saturday morning cartoons. But the envy quickly passed, soothed by thoughts of how awesome you looked and how much candy you’d gotten. Assuming you didn’t get your bag snatched by some older kid.
Schoon Fact: I’m convinced that there is a special place in Hell for anyone that ever snatched a bag of candy from some little kid.
Fast forward to modern day and kids costumes are far cooler. You wouldn’t dare catch a kid today dying in some plastic nightmare. Hell, last year I was shocked by the amount of kids that didn’t have costumes at all. I’m not talking about the twelve-year-old with the pillow case that’s too cool for dressing up but still wants free candy. I mean little kids in street clothes and an orange wig or a Payton Manning jersey. Sure there were still lots of kids thrilled to assume the identity of Spider-Man for a night. But I saw more then one nine-year-old in jeans and a sweatshirt just out for M&Ms. Sad.
Could the loss of G.L. Perry’s be a factor in this growing attitude? Do kids walk into Walmart, wander down the costume isle and sigh. “They have nothing for me.” ?
--Schoonaert
At least that was my goal. When I was seven-years-old I decided to go as He-Man for Halloween. I would’ve liked to achieve this by hoisting my Power Sword into the sky and bellowing out “BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL! I HAVE THE POWER!!!!” but that wasn’t an option. So it was off to G.L. Perry for some costume shopping.
As their jingle correctly claimed, Perry’s did indeed have something for me. Every year Perry’s had a giant wall of boxed Halloween costumes. Boxes with pictures of your favorite cartoon characters and a little plastic window to show you the mask that would transform you from a hyper-active child to a hyper-active child in a cheap plastic mask. Looking back now these costumes were horrible. No matter the character the costume was basically the same. A plastic jump suit and a mask. The jump suit often featured a picture of the character looking awesome, even dynamic. Which wasn’t exactly how the garbage bag made you look. The plastic masks had tiny holes in them. The thought being that you would use them to see and breathe.
Heh.
Before you were thirty seconds into your Trick-Or-Treating the mask was filled with condensation. Another thirty seconds and you started to sweat. By the time that first Snicker’s bar hit your sack you were on the verge of passing out. Who knew that dressing yourself in a garbage bag could be so dangerous?
After a couple of houses you’d give up walking with the mask on and only cover your face the second before you rang the door to beg strangers for candy. As the night went on you’d momentarily envy the kids dressed as Dracula or some other creature not featured on Saturday morning cartoons. But the envy quickly passed, soothed by thoughts of how awesome you looked and how much candy you’d gotten. Assuming you didn’t get your bag snatched by some older kid.
Schoon Fact: I’m convinced that there is a special place in Hell for anyone that ever snatched a bag of candy from some little kid.
Fast forward to modern day and kids costumes are far cooler. You wouldn’t dare catch a kid today dying in some plastic nightmare. Hell, last year I was shocked by the amount of kids that didn’t have costumes at all. I’m not talking about the twelve-year-old with the pillow case that’s too cool for dressing up but still wants free candy. I mean little kids in street clothes and an orange wig or a Payton Manning jersey. Sure there were still lots of kids thrilled to assume the identity of Spider-Man for a night. But I saw more then one nine-year-old in jeans and a sweatshirt just out for M&Ms. Sad.
Could the loss of G.L. Perry’s be a factor in this growing attitude? Do kids walk into Walmart, wander down the costume isle and sigh. “They have nothing for me.” ?
--Schoonaert
Friday, October 1, 2010
Halloween
Do you have your Halloween costume yet?
True, the month just started but I tend to start thinking about Halloween by Mid-September. It and Christmas battle for the title of favorite holiday. I don’t have a specific reason why I enjoy Halloween so much. I don’t have that one childhood memory that drives so much of my adult enjoyment. It’s just fun. Happy kids, bad monster movies, and otherwise conservative ladies dressing up like cheerleaders equals fun. I enjoy the holiday so much that I plan to write about it all month long. (Of course I also planned to update this sucker on a weekly basis so we’ll see how this goes.)
To start things off I have another question for you. What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen? Note that I didn’t say favorite. I’m talking about the movie that kept you up at night out of fear that your soul was in danger. The movie that you can’t watch again unless you’re with a group of people. That one.
Now if you ask my sister to answer this question about me she’d laugh and say Ghostbusters 2. What? That one didn’t make your list?
When I was a pre-teen the family and I went to see this flick. You know the scene where the Ghostbusters are in that dark tunnel and a bunch of ghoulish faces pop up? Well that had me closing my eyes and turning away. Which, to my everlasting shame, my sister witnessed. She reminds me of my cowardice as often as she can and rightly so. What can I say? Disfigured faces scare the shit out of me. I can watch vampires and blood shed without flinching but show me a nose falling off and I’ll freak. Which brings me to the scariest movie I’ve ever seen.
Have you seen The Ring?
Now, I’m not much for modern horror flicks. The type of “scary” movies I enjoy usually have names like Roger Corman, Vincent Price, and Godzilla in the credits. But shortly after graduating college I was working a crappy second shift job. I’d get home around Midnight and be way to wound up to sleep. For some reason there was a copy of The Ring in the DVD player so I fired it up. I figured there’d be some Jason style psycho and some teens that I could yell at for being stupid. I’ve been know to yell things like “Kick him in the face!” or “Stop falling down you moron!” at these sort of flicks.
So I started watching The Ring.
Alone.
At Midnight.
(Spoiler alert on people)
I should have stopped the flick after the first ten minutes. When they found the dead girl in the closet with the screwed up face. Instead I got drawn into the story. The videotape, the phone calls, the girl in the well. All creepy and all captivating. I was pretty freaked out as the movie was coming to its close but I was ok. They solved the mystery of murdered girl and I was already thinking about turning in. But then…
THE BITCH CRAWLED OUT OF THE TV!!!!
There’s no defense for that, people! You can’t stab a magical dead girl! Can’t set a trap and run out of the house. Plus the TV was my friend, my comfort on bad days. How could it betray me like this? Bitch crawled out of the TV and I recoiled in my chair.
Two hours latter I was still wide awake. I had tried to sleep but the fact that I had a television at the foot of my bed wasn’t helping matters. If the phone had rang I would have wet the bed.
I haven’t seen the movie since and I have no desire to.
--Schoonaert.
True, the month just started but I tend to start thinking about Halloween by Mid-September. It and Christmas battle for the title of favorite holiday. I don’t have a specific reason why I enjoy Halloween so much. I don’t have that one childhood memory that drives so much of my adult enjoyment. It’s just fun. Happy kids, bad monster movies, and otherwise conservative ladies dressing up like cheerleaders equals fun. I enjoy the holiday so much that I plan to write about it all month long. (Of course I also planned to update this sucker on a weekly basis so we’ll see how this goes.)
To start things off I have another question for you. What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen? Note that I didn’t say favorite. I’m talking about the movie that kept you up at night out of fear that your soul was in danger. The movie that you can’t watch again unless you’re with a group of people. That one.
Now if you ask my sister to answer this question about me she’d laugh and say Ghostbusters 2. What? That one didn’t make your list?
When I was a pre-teen the family and I went to see this flick. You know the scene where the Ghostbusters are in that dark tunnel and a bunch of ghoulish faces pop up? Well that had me closing my eyes and turning away. Which, to my everlasting shame, my sister witnessed. She reminds me of my cowardice as often as she can and rightly so. What can I say? Disfigured faces scare the shit out of me. I can watch vampires and blood shed without flinching but show me a nose falling off and I’ll freak. Which brings me to the scariest movie I’ve ever seen.
Have you seen The Ring?
Now, I’m not much for modern horror flicks. The type of “scary” movies I enjoy usually have names like Roger Corman, Vincent Price, and Godzilla in the credits. But shortly after graduating college I was working a crappy second shift job. I’d get home around Midnight and be way to wound up to sleep. For some reason there was a copy of The Ring in the DVD player so I fired it up. I figured there’d be some Jason style psycho and some teens that I could yell at for being stupid. I’ve been know to yell things like “Kick him in the face!” or “Stop falling down you moron!” at these sort of flicks.
So I started watching The Ring.
Alone.
At Midnight.
(Spoiler alert on people)
I should have stopped the flick after the first ten minutes. When they found the dead girl in the closet with the screwed up face. Instead I got drawn into the story. The videotape, the phone calls, the girl in the well. All creepy and all captivating. I was pretty freaked out as the movie was coming to its close but I was ok. They solved the mystery of murdered girl and I was already thinking about turning in. But then…
THE BITCH CRAWLED OUT OF THE TV!!!!
There’s no defense for that, people! You can’t stab a magical dead girl! Can’t set a trap and run out of the house. Plus the TV was my friend, my comfort on bad days. How could it betray me like this? Bitch crawled out of the TV and I recoiled in my chair.
Two hours latter I was still wide awake. I had tried to sleep but the fact that I had a television at the foot of my bed wasn’t helping matters. If the phone had rang I would have wet the bed.
I haven’t seen the movie since and I have no desire to.
--Schoonaert.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Facts
Facts:
1) YouTube devours free time.
What’s that? You say you’re at work and you can’t remember the lyrics to the Muppet Babies theme song? Well that’s no problem. Just take a minute and hop over to YouTube. A couple of key strokes and you’ll be chair dancing to Saturday morning nostalgia. Okay, that’s done and it’s time to get back to work. But wait, there in the “suggestions” is the theme song to He-Man. Well, you have to check that out! Of course that leads to the Transformers theme which leads to a video of Megan Fox fighting the paparazzi. Suddenly an hour has passed and you’re watching hillbillies blindly praising Glenn Beck.
2) All men love the movie Tombstone.
Ladies try this little test. Ask any guy in your life if he’s seen the movie. I bet you a million Schrute bucks that he’ll respond with one of the following.
a) I’m your huckleberry
b) Why Johnny Ringo, you look like somebody just walked over your grave.
c) You called down the thunder, well now you’ve got it.
3) We assume Spiders are vengeful.
Does this sound familiar? You’re about to go to bed when you see a big nasty spider on the wall. You grab a magazine or a tissue and crush the sucker. You go to flush it away but you can’t find the body. You tell yourself that it’s gone but in your heart you know it’s in some corner somewhere, licking its wounds, planning its revenge. Good luck falling asleep.
--Schoonaert
1) YouTube devours free time.
What’s that? You say you’re at work and you can’t remember the lyrics to the Muppet Babies theme song? Well that’s no problem. Just take a minute and hop over to YouTube. A couple of key strokes and you’ll be chair dancing to Saturday morning nostalgia. Okay, that’s done and it’s time to get back to work. But wait, there in the “suggestions” is the theme song to He-Man. Well, you have to check that out! Of course that leads to the Transformers theme which leads to a video of Megan Fox fighting the paparazzi. Suddenly an hour has passed and you’re watching hillbillies blindly praising Glenn Beck.
2) All men love the movie Tombstone.
Ladies try this little test. Ask any guy in your life if he’s seen the movie. I bet you a million Schrute bucks that he’ll respond with one of the following.
a) I’m your huckleberry
b) Why Johnny Ringo, you look like somebody just walked over your grave.
c) You called down the thunder, well now you’ve got it.
3) We assume Spiders are vengeful.
Does this sound familiar? You’re about to go to bed when you see a big nasty spider on the wall. You grab a magazine or a tissue and crush the sucker. You go to flush it away but you can’t find the body. You tell yourself that it’s gone but in your heart you know it’s in some corner somewhere, licking its wounds, planning its revenge. Good luck falling asleep.
--Schoonaert
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Dust
You’ve seen Raiders of the Lost Ark right?
You know the scene at the end where the Ark of the Covenant is crated up and put in some giant warehouse along with hundreds of other boxes? I’ve always wondered what other treasures were growing cobwebs along side the Ten Commandments. Whatever else is in there I’m pretty sure my boss bought one of the items and is hiding it in plane sight.
I imagine my workplace isn’t dissimilar from yours. There are desks, chairs, computers, products, overreaction, micromanagement, etc., But what separates my work from yours is we have The American flag from the World Trade Center.
Yep. It’s here.
It showed up about two years ago. I was walking up the stairs to the owner’s office. He’s a millionaire and thus a bit on the eccentric side. It’s not uncommon to find his office littered with newspaper clippings, photos of him with people of power, and the occasional football trinket. Anyway I was taking some paperwork upstairs when I saw it. An American flag, about five feet wide and three feet tall, torn and beaten, sitting in a glass display case, leaning against the wall like it were a bicycle. At the bottom of the case was a small plaque that read: Word Trade Center. September 11th 2001.
Needless to say this was weird.
As my brain tried to solve this puzzle I stumbled into the boss’s office. He told me quite simply that it was real and that he picked it up somewhere. Then he moved on to idle chat about business. Two years later it’s still sitting in the exact same spot.
It probably isn’t real. Probably just a copy or something he found while flipping through Skymall. No, it probably isn’t real.
But what if it is?
What if one of the most important American artifacts in recent history is sitting in my office? Is that better then sitting in some warehouse? What’s in that back closet at your office? Look behind the old printer and the broken projector and see if there’s a Da Vinci gathering dust.
--Schoonaert
You know the scene at the end where the Ark of the Covenant is crated up and put in some giant warehouse along with hundreds of other boxes? I’ve always wondered what other treasures were growing cobwebs along side the Ten Commandments. Whatever else is in there I’m pretty sure my boss bought one of the items and is hiding it in plane sight.
I imagine my workplace isn’t dissimilar from yours. There are desks, chairs, computers, products, overreaction, micromanagement, etc., But what separates my work from yours is we have The American flag from the World Trade Center.
Yep. It’s here.
It showed up about two years ago. I was walking up the stairs to the owner’s office. He’s a millionaire and thus a bit on the eccentric side. It’s not uncommon to find his office littered with newspaper clippings, photos of him with people of power, and the occasional football trinket. Anyway I was taking some paperwork upstairs when I saw it. An American flag, about five feet wide and three feet tall, torn and beaten, sitting in a glass display case, leaning against the wall like it were a bicycle. At the bottom of the case was a small plaque that read: Word Trade Center. September 11th 2001.
Needless to say this was weird.
As my brain tried to solve this puzzle I stumbled into the boss’s office. He told me quite simply that it was real and that he picked it up somewhere. Then he moved on to idle chat about business. Two years later it’s still sitting in the exact same spot.
It probably isn’t real. Probably just a copy or something he found while flipping through Skymall. No, it probably isn’t real.
But what if it is?
What if one of the most important American artifacts in recent history is sitting in my office? Is that better then sitting in some warehouse? What’s in that back closet at your office? Look behind the old printer and the broken projector and see if there’s a Da Vinci gathering dust.
--Schoonaert
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Last Word on Water Heaters and Gift Cards
I can’t go on.
I know some of you have been enjoying my water heater saga, but I just can’t talk about it anymore. However, if you were wondering if I’m still dumping buckets of water every 90 minutes here’s a quick sum up. Feel free to skip down to more entertaining topics.
I got a plumber out to the house. He informs me that the small gas heater was discontinued in 2001. I had to switch to electric. After many phone calls, two fired electricians, and a lot of hair pulling, everything got fixed. I was left with a hefty bill and hot water. Could have been worse. Aaarrrghhh!!! Even typing these few words on the subject fills me with dread. I’m done. On to better things.
Among my many wonderful birthday gifts I was given two gift cards. Twenty-five bucks for Amazon.com and Twenty-five for Barnes and Noble.
Schoon Fact: I love me some gift cards.
Sure, tearing through bows and wrapping paper is awesome, but a gift card…
All Americans are united by a few simple truths. We like good food, we have way too many bills and we want shiny things. (We also all hate the Yankees, but that’s a blog for another day.) Those bills are a problem. They make us feel tremendously guiltly about buying Prime Rib or a Blu-Ray Player. More importantly buying these things on credit could add to our bills.
Guilt and Want. Might as well be apple pie.
But when you get a gift card it’s like the universe (or your Mother-In-Law) telling you: Hey, it’s okay. You can’t apply this Best Buy card to your Electric Bill so you might as well go buy yourself something.
With a gift card you’re forced to be selfish. Forced to think about what you want. It's a pretty sweet deal. That’s were I find myself now. What do I want? How can I get the most bang for my buck?
……
No, really! I’m asking here people!
Do I want that Dark Knight Blu-Ray I keep eyeing? Do I want to get a couple of Kurt Vonnegut’s classics to add to my collection? The latest volumes of The Walking Dead comic? Seriously, I’m really torn here. So, I’ll ask you people.
What should I buy? Any old B Movies or Sci-Fi flicks that I need to own? Anyone seen that disc of Pixar shorts? I’ve been wanting to see that.
And don’t say that I should buy something for you. Screw that! They’re my precious gift cards! Yes, my precious.
--Schoonaert
I know some of you have been enjoying my water heater saga, but I just can’t talk about it anymore. However, if you were wondering if I’m still dumping buckets of water every 90 minutes here’s a quick sum up. Feel free to skip down to more entertaining topics.
I got a plumber out to the house. He informs me that the small gas heater was discontinued in 2001. I had to switch to electric. After many phone calls, two fired electricians, and a lot of hair pulling, everything got fixed. I was left with a hefty bill and hot water. Could have been worse. Aaarrrghhh!!! Even typing these few words on the subject fills me with dread. I’m done. On to better things.
Among my many wonderful birthday gifts I was given two gift cards. Twenty-five bucks for Amazon.com and Twenty-five for Barnes and Noble.
Schoon Fact: I love me some gift cards.
Sure, tearing through bows and wrapping paper is awesome, but a gift card…
All Americans are united by a few simple truths. We like good food, we have way too many bills and we want shiny things. (We also all hate the Yankees, but that’s a blog for another day.) Those bills are a problem. They make us feel tremendously guiltly about buying Prime Rib or a Blu-Ray Player. More importantly buying these things on credit could add to our bills.
Guilt and Want. Might as well be apple pie.
But when you get a gift card it’s like the universe (or your Mother-In-Law) telling you: Hey, it’s okay. You can’t apply this Best Buy card to your Electric Bill so you might as well go buy yourself something.
With a gift card you’re forced to be selfish. Forced to think about what you want. It's a pretty sweet deal. That’s were I find myself now. What do I want? How can I get the most bang for my buck?
……
No, really! I’m asking here people!
Do I want that Dark Knight Blu-Ray I keep eyeing? Do I want to get a couple of Kurt Vonnegut’s classics to add to my collection? The latest volumes of The Walking Dead comic? Seriously, I’m really torn here. So, I’ll ask you people.
What should I buy? Any old B Movies or Sci-Fi flicks that I need to own? Anyone seen that disc of Pixar shorts? I’ve been wanting to see that.
And don’t say that I should buy something for you. Screw that! They’re my precious gift cards! Yes, my precious.
--Schoonaert
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Part 2
Welcome back.
So the water heater’s leaking and we’ve returned home after an unsuccessful search for a replacement. Now comes the time I’ve dreaded. Time to take matters into my own hands and attempt to turn the sucker off myself. While it’s true I have no handyman skills I am capable of reading, so I consult my Home Repair Guide that I bought when we moved in. It seems simple enough.
1) Shut off the gas by closing the valve.
2) Shut off the water valve above the unit.
3) Connect a hose to the beast and drain it.
4) Kick back and enjoy the rest of your weekend.
Back on hands and knees I go and venture into the crawl space. I locate the cobweb covered gas valve. The thought occurs to me that these copper pipes are ancient and that one good tug will probably destroy my entire house.
It’s with this fear that I reach out and start to turn the lever.
To my shock it moves with ease. On to the water valve. I snake my arm through the pipes, grab hold, twist and…nothing.
Frozen solid.
Not even a wiggle.
Shit.
Against my better judgment I grab a rag and add a bit more force. My arm shakes, the pipes shake, the valve laughs at me. I venture out into the garage for some PB Blaster. (For those unfamiliar with the product it’s a spray you use for rusted bolts. I had to use it to change my lawn mower blade. This has nothing to do with the story; I just wanted to show that I do have a tiny bit of maintenance ability.) I soak the valve, wait a few minutes, and try again. Nadda. This game continues for the next couple of hours. I spray, wait a while, empty the water out of the pan, try and turn the valve. The game ends when I form a huge blister on the palm of my hand and brake off half of the valve.
After some much needed cursing, Rachael and I decide we’d be better off just shutting off the main valve and turning off all the water in the house. Thankfully that valve turns and all the water shuts off.
As per our Home Improvement book, Rachael and I turn on a faucet to drain the remaining water in the house. We’re shocked at the amount of water that’s coming out but we just figure there’s a lot of water to drain or maybe it’s taking water out of the water heater. Whatever. The only think I know is that I turned the main valve and the water is certainly off.
So Rachael and I connect a hose to the water heater and I start filling a bucket. It takes about three minutes to fill a bucket before I have to empty it. I’m crouched next to the heater filling the bucket. When it’s full I switch it with another and slide the full one to Rachael so she can dump it. Now while this whole water heater debacle was a horrible experience this next part was one of my favorite moments of my married life.
I’m tired. Rachael’s tired. But we have three minutes between bucket exchanges. In that span Rachael hunches over in the crawlspace doorway and reads aloud from the hilarious book; Shit My Dad Says.
We could be bitching about the situation. I could be cursing the stuck valve and she could rue the day she hooked up with such an unhandy dude. But we don’t. Instead she reads, we laugh, and we make the best of a raw deal. I was really proud of us at the moment.
Of course that pride was quickly forgotten when it became apparent that there shouldn’t be this much water in the pipes. Now, folks, I turned the main shut off valve. I swear by all the universe I did. But, for reason’s still unclear to me, I managed to turn it on (or MORE on) instead of off. I know this makes no sense but when I turned the valve again the faucet dried up with in seconds.
It’s late Saturday afternoon. The water is finally off. We’re tired. We’re frustrated and we still have no replacement water heater.
Oh! And did I mention that when we got home I tried to find a replacement heater on line and promptly downloaded a nasty computer virus? Yeah, I did that to.
What’s next for our heroes? Tune in next week.
--Schoonaert
So the water heater’s leaking and we’ve returned home after an unsuccessful search for a replacement. Now comes the time I’ve dreaded. Time to take matters into my own hands and attempt to turn the sucker off myself. While it’s true I have no handyman skills I am capable of reading, so I consult my Home Repair Guide that I bought when we moved in. It seems simple enough.
1) Shut off the gas by closing the valve.
2) Shut off the water valve above the unit.
3) Connect a hose to the beast and drain it.
4) Kick back and enjoy the rest of your weekend.
Back on hands and knees I go and venture into the crawl space. I locate the cobweb covered gas valve. The thought occurs to me that these copper pipes are ancient and that one good tug will probably destroy my entire house.
It’s with this fear that I reach out and start to turn the lever.
To my shock it moves with ease. On to the water valve. I snake my arm through the pipes, grab hold, twist and…nothing.
Frozen solid.
Not even a wiggle.
Shit.
Against my better judgment I grab a rag and add a bit more force. My arm shakes, the pipes shake, the valve laughs at me. I venture out into the garage for some PB Blaster. (For those unfamiliar with the product it’s a spray you use for rusted bolts. I had to use it to change my lawn mower blade. This has nothing to do with the story; I just wanted to show that I do have a tiny bit of maintenance ability.) I soak the valve, wait a few minutes, and try again. Nadda. This game continues for the next couple of hours. I spray, wait a while, empty the water out of the pan, try and turn the valve. The game ends when I form a huge blister on the palm of my hand and brake off half of the valve.
After some much needed cursing, Rachael and I decide we’d be better off just shutting off the main valve and turning off all the water in the house. Thankfully that valve turns and all the water shuts off.
As per our Home Improvement book, Rachael and I turn on a faucet to drain the remaining water in the house. We’re shocked at the amount of water that’s coming out but we just figure there’s a lot of water to drain or maybe it’s taking water out of the water heater. Whatever. The only think I know is that I turned the main valve and the water is certainly off.
So Rachael and I connect a hose to the water heater and I start filling a bucket. It takes about three minutes to fill a bucket before I have to empty it. I’m crouched next to the heater filling the bucket. When it’s full I switch it with another and slide the full one to Rachael so she can dump it. Now while this whole water heater debacle was a horrible experience this next part was one of my favorite moments of my married life.
I’m tired. Rachael’s tired. But we have three minutes between bucket exchanges. In that span Rachael hunches over in the crawlspace doorway and reads aloud from the hilarious book; Shit My Dad Says.
We could be bitching about the situation. I could be cursing the stuck valve and she could rue the day she hooked up with such an unhandy dude. But we don’t. Instead she reads, we laugh, and we make the best of a raw deal. I was really proud of us at the moment.
Of course that pride was quickly forgotten when it became apparent that there shouldn’t be this much water in the pipes. Now, folks, I turned the main shut off valve. I swear by all the universe I did. But, for reason’s still unclear to me, I managed to turn it on (or MORE on) instead of off. I know this makes no sense but when I turned the valve again the faucet dried up with in seconds.
It’s late Saturday afternoon. The water is finally off. We’re tired. We’re frustrated and we still have no replacement water heater.
Oh! And did I mention that when we got home I tried to find a replacement heater on line and promptly downloaded a nasty computer virus? Yeah, I did that to.
What’s next for our heroes? Tune in next week.
--Schoonaert
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
House Of Mysteries #112: The Curse Of The Water Heater.
Just before the July 4th weekend, I got a call from my wife telling me that a puddle of water had formed in the downstairs basement. This was not good. Our gas water heater lives in the adjacent crawl space and I feared it had sprung a leak. I came home at lunch, got down on all fours and opened the crawl space door. Yep, standing water and a lovely smell that told me it had been leaking for a few days now. Now, what happened next was the first in a series of errors I made in what is being called: The Water Heater Incident of 2010.
What I should have done was call the plumber. What I did was shut the door and went back to work.
You see folks, I’m not what you’d call “handy”. No, I’m what you’d call “clueless”.
To be fair I was trying to close out the month at work and my stress level was already in the red so I chose to shut the door and deal with it after work.
At the end of the day I literally crawled into the mess and mopped up. Once that hellish chore was done I got to inspect the damage. Two pin hole drips were dancing out of my rusted out water heater. Again, I should have called the plumber. But by this time it was 8pm on a Thursday so I simply shoved a couple of baking pans under the water heater and collapsed on the couch. Well, I collapsed for 97 minutes because that’s hold long the shallow pans could hold water before the overflowed. Back on all fours. Smack my head and back against the ceiling, dump the pan into a bucket, crawl out, empty the bucket, collapse on the couch. This was a little game I ended up playing a lot over the next few days.
So did I call the plumber on Friday? Nah, that would’ve been smart. Instead I focused on the ultra stressful task of closing out the month at work. 10 hours later that chore was done and I came home to mop up the mess and start the 97 minute game again. But Saturday, the wife and I took action. We headed out to Home Depot to buy us a new gas heater. We figured once we had the thing my brother-in-law could come over and do the switch out for us. Simple right? Heh.
We gave the toothless wonder at Home Depot the measurements and he pointed us to our water heater. The price was fine and I just wanted to get this done so I told him we’d take it and he shuffled off to get a forklift to bring it off the shelf. As we’re waiting for Captain Useless we notice that the box says “electric”. Now, again, I’m not handy but I’m pretty sure that gas and electric are different. I drop this knowledge on Toothless and he sheepishly confirms my suspicion. Jackass.
So he fires up the Bozoputer to check if he can order us a gas model. Then we got this exchange.
Toothless: “Huh. I can’t find one.”
Me: “Okay. So what does that mean?”
Toothless: “Well, I can’t find one.”
Me: “So, do they not make them anymore or what?”
Toothless: “I’m not sure. I can’t find one.”
Home Depot, kids. Trust the experts.
Our frustration boiling we hit Lowes. More teeth but about the same level of knowledge. No gas heater for us. Confused and angry, Rachael and I decided there was only one thing to do in this situation. Stop at Five Guys Burgers and Fries for lunch. Oh sure water was rapidly filling the pans, but we needed brain food damn it! Besides have you been to Five Guys? Beyond tasty. Anyway, with happy tummies we vow to return home and at least shut off the water heater so we could stop playing the 97 minute game. The only problem with this idea? Neither one of us knows how to do this. But she’s smart and I’m…well, she’s smart and between the two of us I was sure we could figure this out. Right?
Stay tuned for the shocking second part of The Curse Of The Water Heater.
--Schoonaert
What I should have done was call the plumber. What I did was shut the door and went back to work.
You see folks, I’m not what you’d call “handy”. No, I’m what you’d call “clueless”.
To be fair I was trying to close out the month at work and my stress level was already in the red so I chose to shut the door and deal with it after work.
At the end of the day I literally crawled into the mess and mopped up. Once that hellish chore was done I got to inspect the damage. Two pin hole drips were dancing out of my rusted out water heater. Again, I should have called the plumber. But by this time it was 8pm on a Thursday so I simply shoved a couple of baking pans under the water heater and collapsed on the couch. Well, I collapsed for 97 minutes because that’s hold long the shallow pans could hold water before the overflowed. Back on all fours. Smack my head and back against the ceiling, dump the pan into a bucket, crawl out, empty the bucket, collapse on the couch. This was a little game I ended up playing a lot over the next few days.
So did I call the plumber on Friday? Nah, that would’ve been smart. Instead I focused on the ultra stressful task of closing out the month at work. 10 hours later that chore was done and I came home to mop up the mess and start the 97 minute game again. But Saturday, the wife and I took action. We headed out to Home Depot to buy us a new gas heater. We figured once we had the thing my brother-in-law could come over and do the switch out for us. Simple right? Heh.
We gave the toothless wonder at Home Depot the measurements and he pointed us to our water heater. The price was fine and I just wanted to get this done so I told him we’d take it and he shuffled off to get a forklift to bring it off the shelf. As we’re waiting for Captain Useless we notice that the box says “electric”. Now, again, I’m not handy but I’m pretty sure that gas and electric are different. I drop this knowledge on Toothless and he sheepishly confirms my suspicion. Jackass.
So he fires up the Bozoputer to check if he can order us a gas model. Then we got this exchange.
Toothless: “Huh. I can’t find one.”
Me: “Okay. So what does that mean?”
Toothless: “Well, I can’t find one.”
Me: “So, do they not make them anymore or what?”
Toothless: “I’m not sure. I can’t find one.”
Home Depot, kids. Trust the experts.
Our frustration boiling we hit Lowes. More teeth but about the same level of knowledge. No gas heater for us. Confused and angry, Rachael and I decided there was only one thing to do in this situation. Stop at Five Guys Burgers and Fries for lunch. Oh sure water was rapidly filling the pans, but we needed brain food damn it! Besides have you been to Five Guys? Beyond tasty. Anyway, with happy tummies we vow to return home and at least shut off the water heater so we could stop playing the 97 minute game. The only problem with this idea? Neither one of us knows how to do this. But she’s smart and I’m…well, she’s smart and between the two of us I was sure we could figure this out. Right?
Stay tuned for the shocking second part of The Curse Of The Water Heater.
--Schoonaert
Monday, July 26, 2010
Quick
I watched The A-Team at the Dollar Theater over the weekend.
Now, I can see some of you rolling your eyes all ready. While it certainly wasn’t high art if was quite the entertaining flick. Stuff blew up, the pretty actors were pretty, and Liam Neeson did what he always does in movies: excelled at telling people what to do. Who doesn’t love Liam Neeson? The guy trained Batman, trained Darth Vader and unleashed a kraken! Has Bill Cosby ever unleashed a kraken? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Seriously, if there was some kind of crisis and I saw Liam Neeson I would rush over and beg of his council.
Anyway, the movie was a lot of fun. Next time you’re shopping, or buying a burger from Sonic, you need to rent it from the Red Box.
Speaking of which, in what genius boardroom was the Sonic/Red Box union spawned? Cheap dvd rentals combined with delicious fast food? A plan so brilliant I can only assume that Liam Neeson had something to do with it.
Well, I know this entry was short and hardly entertaining but it was my first step back to blogging on a regular basis so back off!
Be seeing you soon,
--Schoonaert
Now, I can see some of you rolling your eyes all ready. While it certainly wasn’t high art if was quite the entertaining flick. Stuff blew up, the pretty actors were pretty, and Liam Neeson did what he always does in movies: excelled at telling people what to do. Who doesn’t love Liam Neeson? The guy trained Batman, trained Darth Vader and unleashed a kraken! Has Bill Cosby ever unleashed a kraken? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Seriously, if there was some kind of crisis and I saw Liam Neeson I would rush over and beg of his council.
Anyway, the movie was a lot of fun. Next time you’re shopping, or buying a burger from Sonic, you need to rent it from the Red Box.
Speaking of which, in what genius boardroom was the Sonic/Red Box union spawned? Cheap dvd rentals combined with delicious fast food? A plan so brilliant I can only assume that Liam Neeson had something to do with it.
Well, I know this entry was short and hardly entertaining but it was my first step back to blogging on a regular basis so back off!
Be seeing you soon,
--Schoonaert
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Dirt
How do you know if you’re an adult?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot over the last few years.
I pondered it during my college graduation, considered it on the day of my wedding, and thought that I needed one’s permission to buy my house. While I’m not sure when I became an adult I do know the exact date that the childhood door slammed shut. April 10, 2009. The day I spent my day off moving a giant pile of dirt by hand. Dirt that I not only paid for but that I was excited to get.
Folks, only grownups get excited about dirt.
And I was excited as a lovely little man named Sid backed up his dump truck and unleashed three yards of dirt all over my driveway. What a thrill to know that it was only 9am and I had the entire day to load and unload my wheelbarrow. For those who have forgotten I have a giant hole in my backyard from a pond. This pond had become a soul sucking abyss and it had to be destroyed. Thus Sid and his dirt.
My plan was simple.
Step 1) Fill wheelbarrow
Step 2) Maneuver wheelbarrow through garage into backyard
Step 3) Empty contents of wheelbarrow into the pit.
Step 4) Repeat steps 1-3
And it was working. Oh sure I had a couple of close calls where my cat like balance nearly failed me (Dropped a bit of dirt in the exact spot my wife parks) but after a couple of hours I was feeling pretty good. The Monster Abyss was dying and the pile was shrinking. Another hour and I was nearly done with plenty of dirt left over. Or so I thought. As I pondered what other projects I could do I took my first steps across my new yard.
Kids, did you know that trapped air under fresh dirt acts just like quick sand?
I didn’t.
(Hey just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean I’m not stupid.)
I dug myself out; made sure I didn’t break my ankle, and then cursed the gods of home renovation.
As I packed the rest of the dirt down I came to the horrible realization that I didn’t buy enough dirt. Worse it was Easter weekend and no one was going to be open to deliver me more.
Crap!
The rest of the day was a blur of cursing, trips to Lowes, and unloading bag after bag after bag of top soil.
But at last I emerged the victory. The Abyss was full(ish) and I hadn’t killed anyone. I consider that a good day.
The lesson here: You can never have enough dirt.
--Schoonaert.
It’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot over the last few years.
I pondered it during my college graduation, considered it on the day of my wedding, and thought that I needed one’s permission to buy my house. While I’m not sure when I became an adult I do know the exact date that the childhood door slammed shut. April 10, 2009. The day I spent my day off moving a giant pile of dirt by hand. Dirt that I not only paid for but that I was excited to get.
Folks, only grownups get excited about dirt.
And I was excited as a lovely little man named Sid backed up his dump truck and unleashed three yards of dirt all over my driveway. What a thrill to know that it was only 9am and I had the entire day to load and unload my wheelbarrow. For those who have forgotten I have a giant hole in my backyard from a pond. This pond had become a soul sucking abyss and it had to be destroyed. Thus Sid and his dirt.
My plan was simple.
Step 1) Fill wheelbarrow
Step 2) Maneuver wheelbarrow through garage into backyard
Step 3) Empty contents of wheelbarrow into the pit.
Step 4) Repeat steps 1-3
And it was working. Oh sure I had a couple of close calls where my cat like balance nearly failed me (Dropped a bit of dirt in the exact spot my wife parks) but after a couple of hours I was feeling pretty good. The Monster Abyss was dying and the pile was shrinking. Another hour and I was nearly done with plenty of dirt left over. Or so I thought. As I pondered what other projects I could do I took my first steps across my new yard.
Kids, did you know that trapped air under fresh dirt acts just like quick sand?
I didn’t.
(Hey just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean I’m not stupid.)
I dug myself out; made sure I didn’t break my ankle, and then cursed the gods of home renovation.
As I packed the rest of the dirt down I came to the horrible realization that I didn’t buy enough dirt. Worse it was Easter weekend and no one was going to be open to deliver me more.
Crap!
The rest of the day was a blur of cursing, trips to Lowes, and unloading bag after bag after bag of top soil.
But at last I emerged the victory. The Abyss was full(ish) and I hadn’t killed anyone. I consider that a good day.
The lesson here: You can never have enough dirt.
--Schoonaert.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Things in my brain
In these tough economic times we need a moral booster. If I were running the show I’d make it legal for a person to punch three people a year. Now here me out, January 1st everybody would get a little coupon book in the mail.
It’d read: Good for one free punch. No tag backs.
Picture it. You’re in line at the 10 items or less line. Jimmy McDumbfuck has a cart with 27 items. As he pours his bag of nickels on the counter to pay you punch the shit out of his neck. Jimmy starts to get mad when you present him with your coupon. He grumbles, collects his Slim Jims and walks off. How awesome would that be?!?
No? Yes? Maybe? Well, I’d dig it.
Rachael and I are slowly (oh so slowly) making progress on the Yard-Of-Doom! In our attempts to make the backyard look less evil, we’ve circled the trees in Sand Pebbles. I won’t bore you with the details but basically we spent a Sunday driving back and forth from Lowes, our car loaded down with bags of stone. It’s an odd thing to be in the back seat of your own car while shotgun is occupied by bags of rocks. Stranger still when said rocks are buckled in like a child. (This is what happens when you don’t own a truck, kids.)
Rush Limbaugh makes me sad inside.
During my lunch hour I escape to a local park where my car radio keeps me company. For some reason my car gets very few AM stations. (AM. I know. What can I say? I likes me some talk radio.) For the most part my options are ESPN or Rush.
I’m a sports guy so this usually isn’t a problem. But on occasion I’ll tune into Rush.
Ahh, Rush.
Have you ever seen Hook?
You know that scene where Peter Pan’s little girl frowns at Captain Hook and scolds: “You need a Mommy very badly!” That’s Rush.
Hmm.
Could Rush Limbaugh, Icon of aggression, elitism, and generally unpleasantness in fact be Captain James Hook?!? Hey it makes more sense than Robin Williams being Peter Pan. I must test this theory.
Perhaps I’ll call into the show and hold a ticking clock next to the phone.
--BJS
It’d read: Good for one free punch. No tag backs.
Picture it. You’re in line at the 10 items or less line. Jimmy McDumbfuck has a cart with 27 items. As he pours his bag of nickels on the counter to pay you punch the shit out of his neck. Jimmy starts to get mad when you present him with your coupon. He grumbles, collects his Slim Jims and walks off. How awesome would that be?!?
No? Yes? Maybe? Well, I’d dig it.
Rachael and I are slowly (oh so slowly) making progress on the Yard-Of-Doom! In our attempts to make the backyard look less evil, we’ve circled the trees in Sand Pebbles. I won’t bore you with the details but basically we spent a Sunday driving back and forth from Lowes, our car loaded down with bags of stone. It’s an odd thing to be in the back seat of your own car while shotgun is occupied by bags of rocks. Stranger still when said rocks are buckled in like a child. (This is what happens when you don’t own a truck, kids.)
Rush Limbaugh makes me sad inside.
During my lunch hour I escape to a local park where my car radio keeps me company. For some reason my car gets very few AM stations. (AM. I know. What can I say? I likes me some talk radio.) For the most part my options are ESPN or Rush.
I’m a sports guy so this usually isn’t a problem. But on occasion I’ll tune into Rush.
Ahh, Rush.
Have you ever seen Hook?
You know that scene where Peter Pan’s little girl frowns at Captain Hook and scolds: “You need a Mommy very badly!” That’s Rush.
Hmm.
Could Rush Limbaugh, Icon of aggression, elitism, and generally unpleasantness in fact be Captain James Hook?!? Hey it makes more sense than Robin Williams being Peter Pan. I must test this theory.
Perhaps I’ll call into the show and hold a ticking clock next to the phone.
--BJS
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Grab Bag
Howdy.
I've been in a bit of a funk lately and not really in the mood for blogging. So I thought I'd transfer a couple of posts from my old Myspace blog. I'm planning on killing my Myspace page soon so this site will be a life raft for some odd bits. I'll be back soon with some funky fresh words and phrases, but for now this will have to do. Enjoy.
Friday, May 23, 2008
You down with DVD?
About a year ago I got one of those DVD burners. I thought it would be nice (aka cheap) to copy some of my old college footage and give it to my groomsmen as wedding gifts. Now, with a potential home purchase, I'm trying to avoid lugging my massive VHS collection into a new dwelling. For those of you without one of these suckers it's pretty sweet. You simply put in the tape, hit record, and whammy! Easily stored (and durable) digital goodness. The real fun though is seeing all the crap I've recorded over the years. It's funny how you misremember some events. Examples:
1) I always thought I was a cute, precocious, and all around swell child. However, thanks to cruel cold video, I found that I was an obnoxious, hyperactive, package of evil. I remember vividly doing "funny" things as a child. Making the adults laugh with my quick wit. Turns out no one was laughing. It's a strange thing to watch a small child on the television machine and wish them harm.
2) Brian Schoonaert is not funny. Watching college footage now and I hear myself cutting jokes. People laugh but I think that was just from alcohol.
3) Good lord we drank a lot in College!
4) My college friends, both male and female, were (are) good looking people. Honestly kids, go online and watch some YouTube footage of college kids. Not Spring Break crap, like house parties. Chances are they are uglier than my Ball State peeps.
5) Ryan Biggs is funny. Of course I knew this, but I didn't realize just how well his humor held up. I'm watching footage from nearly a decade ago and cracking up. Of course if you don't know Biggs this means nothing to you. Feel free to skip down.
6) Network television has offered up some strange programming over the years and, for some reason, I've recorded most of it. Old Godzilla movies, documentaries on Bozo The Clown (not to be confused with Bozo The Accountant), pro wrestling from Japan, etc., Not only have these treasures been watched by myself, but I felt the need to record them. I know. I'm strange.
7) My Mom had a great laugh.
--BJS
Monday, April 07, 2008
Things I learned over the weekend
1) I’m old.
I say this because I now go to the mall and am shocked, shocked I say, by what the young whippersnappers are wearing. A ten-year-old’s ass should not be "juicy" nor should it be covered by scraps of cloth that I’m told are shorts. This just tells me that clothes are designed by pervy old men. You don’t see guys having to wear ass huggers with "oak" printed on the crotch. Just weird.
And while I’m on the subject, I know some of you loyal readers are volleyball fans; explain to me why women have to wear the little bike shorts and guys don’t. What’s the logic behind that? (Schoon Fact: Brian Schoonaert is a big fan of women in tight/skimpy clothing, he would simply prefer they be of north of voting age.)
2) Digital Yoda sucks.
I spent a good chunk of my weekend watching the Star Wars (much to my wife’s dismay) and I groaned every time the little computer generated frog spun about with his laser sword. And why was he wearing bike shorts?!? I mean come on, I---Oh. Sorry. I was thinking on my first topic.
3) I am too cool for the zoo.
This was actually a couple of weeks back but who’s counting? Rachael and I took our nephew Kyle to the zoo. Now the last time I went to the zoo I brought a sack lunch and a permission slip, so I really didn’t know what to expect.
Oh wait.
Yes I did.
Stench and lazy animals. Not one of these captive critters could so much as break into a jog. Hell most of them were lounging in the sun. I paid my nine dollars, damn it! Dance for me! Oh well, at least the kid had fun.
I’m sure I learned many other exciting things but I’ll save them for later.
--BJS
I've been in a bit of a funk lately and not really in the mood for blogging. So I thought I'd transfer a couple of posts from my old Myspace blog. I'm planning on killing my Myspace page soon so this site will be a life raft for some odd bits. I'll be back soon with some funky fresh words and phrases, but for now this will have to do. Enjoy.
Friday, May 23, 2008
You down with DVD?
About a year ago I got one of those DVD burners. I thought it would be nice (aka cheap) to copy some of my old college footage and give it to my groomsmen as wedding gifts. Now, with a potential home purchase, I'm trying to avoid lugging my massive VHS collection into a new dwelling. For those of you without one of these suckers it's pretty sweet. You simply put in the tape, hit record, and whammy! Easily stored (and durable) digital goodness. The real fun though is seeing all the crap I've recorded over the years. It's funny how you misremember some events. Examples:
1) I always thought I was a cute, precocious, and all around swell child. However, thanks to cruel cold video, I found that I was an obnoxious, hyperactive, package of evil. I remember vividly doing "funny" things as a child. Making the adults laugh with my quick wit. Turns out no one was laughing. It's a strange thing to watch a small child on the television machine and wish them harm.
2) Brian Schoonaert is not funny. Watching college footage now and I hear myself cutting jokes. People laugh but I think that was just from alcohol.
3) Good lord we drank a lot in College!
4) My college friends, both male and female, were (are) good looking people. Honestly kids, go online and watch some YouTube footage of college kids. Not Spring Break crap, like house parties. Chances are they are uglier than my Ball State peeps.
5) Ryan Biggs is funny. Of course I knew this, but I didn't realize just how well his humor held up. I'm watching footage from nearly a decade ago and cracking up. Of course if you don't know Biggs this means nothing to you. Feel free to skip down.
6) Network television has offered up some strange programming over the years and, for some reason, I've recorded most of it. Old Godzilla movies, documentaries on Bozo The Clown (not to be confused with Bozo The Accountant), pro wrestling from Japan, etc., Not only have these treasures been watched by myself, but I felt the need to record them. I know. I'm strange.
7) My Mom had a great laugh.
--BJS
Monday, April 07, 2008
Things I learned over the weekend
1) I’m old.
I say this because I now go to the mall and am shocked, shocked I say, by what the young whippersnappers are wearing. A ten-year-old’s ass should not be "juicy" nor should it be covered by scraps of cloth that I’m told are shorts. This just tells me that clothes are designed by pervy old men. You don’t see guys having to wear ass huggers with "oak" printed on the crotch. Just weird.
And while I’m on the subject, I know some of you loyal readers are volleyball fans; explain to me why women have to wear the little bike shorts and guys don’t. What’s the logic behind that? (Schoon Fact: Brian Schoonaert is a big fan of women in tight/skimpy clothing, he would simply prefer they be of north of voting age.)
2) Digital Yoda sucks.
I spent a good chunk of my weekend watching the Star Wars (much to my wife’s dismay) and I groaned every time the little computer generated frog spun about with his laser sword. And why was he wearing bike shorts?!? I mean come on, I---Oh. Sorry. I was thinking on my first topic.
3) I am too cool for the zoo.
This was actually a couple of weeks back but who’s counting? Rachael and I took our nephew Kyle to the zoo. Now the last time I went to the zoo I brought a sack lunch and a permission slip, so I really didn’t know what to expect.
Oh wait.
Yes I did.
Stench and lazy animals. Not one of these captive critters could so much as break into a jog. Hell most of them were lounging in the sun. I paid my nine dollars, damn it! Dance for me! Oh well, at least the kid had fun.
I’m sure I learned many other exciting things but I’ll save them for later.
--BJS
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Even More
Welcome back.
I watched a movie called Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter. Yeah, let that roll around your brain for a second. To make matters worse the plot of the movie, and I promise this is true, Christ has returned to earth to defend the lesbians of Canada from a hoard of vampires. Aiding The Savior is Mexican Wrestling legend, El Santo.
Yeah.
The movie is quite possibly the worst flick I’ve ever seen. It appears the film was shot on my Uncle Dean’s home video camera and features a cast of layoffs from Home Depot. Ugh. My soul hurts just thinking about this abomination. And why did I watch this flick? Why did I risk the ire of The Almighty? Because my Mother-In-Law recommended it. I love this woman but perhaps she doesn’t love me. Maybe this was her devious way of getting me out of the picture. If that be true it’s an act of villainy that would make Skeletor blush.
In other news.
The snow has melted and I’m faced with the nastiness that is my lawn. Dead grass mixed with patches of dirt. Humps and hills that have me convinced those worm things from Tremors are napping outside my door. Combine that with the ugliest crab trees in existence and you have my arch nemesis. Since I’ve moved in this monster has destroyed one Weed Eater and taken the lives of two lawn mower blades. My mower is currently huddled in the corner of my garage, too scared to move. Poor little guy.
However, I am far from defeated. Stay tuned for the exciting adventures of: Schoonaert vs. Lawn.
(Good Lord I’m pathetic)
Finally…Watchmen has arrived. Perhaps you haven’t seen the 6,985 ads on your television machine, but Watchmen is the latest of the Comic Book flicks and it has me grinning. Being the cool kid that I am I’ve read Watchmen at least a dozen times and I plan on dragging Rachael to the theater as soon as possible. Heh. I’m trying to convince her to stand up in the middle of the movie and shout: “Isn’t anybody watching these people?!?”
Till next time.
--BJS
I watched a movie called Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter. Yeah, let that roll around your brain for a second. To make matters worse the plot of the movie, and I promise this is true, Christ has returned to earth to defend the lesbians of Canada from a hoard of vampires. Aiding The Savior is Mexican Wrestling legend, El Santo.
Yeah.
The movie is quite possibly the worst flick I’ve ever seen. It appears the film was shot on my Uncle Dean’s home video camera and features a cast of layoffs from Home Depot. Ugh. My soul hurts just thinking about this abomination. And why did I watch this flick? Why did I risk the ire of The Almighty? Because my Mother-In-Law recommended it. I love this woman but perhaps she doesn’t love me. Maybe this was her devious way of getting me out of the picture. If that be true it’s an act of villainy that would make Skeletor blush.
In other news.
The snow has melted and I’m faced with the nastiness that is my lawn. Dead grass mixed with patches of dirt. Humps and hills that have me convinced those worm things from Tremors are napping outside my door. Combine that with the ugliest crab trees in existence and you have my arch nemesis. Since I’ve moved in this monster has destroyed one Weed Eater and taken the lives of two lawn mower blades. My mower is currently huddled in the corner of my garage, too scared to move. Poor little guy.
However, I am far from defeated. Stay tuned for the exciting adventures of: Schoonaert vs. Lawn.
(Good Lord I’m pathetic)
Finally…Watchmen has arrived. Perhaps you haven’t seen the 6,985 ads on your television machine, but Watchmen is the latest of the Comic Book flicks and it has me grinning. Being the cool kid that I am I’ve read Watchmen at least a dozen times and I plan on dragging Rachael to the theater as soon as possible. Heh. I’m trying to convince her to stand up in the middle of the movie and shout: “Isn’t anybody watching these people?!?”
Till next time.
--BJS
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Random Things....
Top Five Things That I Dug Last Week.
5) Hugh Jackman’s Oscar opening number.
This was just funny! If you missed it you really need to catch it on Youtube or something. Him singing about how he didn’t see The Reader nearly brought me to tears.
4) Netflix: My new best friend
Rachael and I got a subscription for Christmas and have been using the hell out of it ever since. Last week I watched a forgotten classic: Monster Squad. If you’ve never seen this movie go right now to a place where movies are rented or sold and rent it. Or buy it. If you liked The Goonies this is even better. And if you didn’t like The Goonies….well then I don’t care to know you. Please leave now.
3) Twilight.
Sigh. Yes. I’m reading Twilight. What, you may ask, would make a Football lovin’, UFC watchin’ dude read a tale of teen romance? Quite simply my wife loves it. No, love isn’t right. What’s stronger then love? Who said plastic?!? Get out of here!Anyway, she’s spellbound with the entire world of Teen Vampire love and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. So I saw the movie and was completely bored. Still, she insisted that the book was much better and I relented. Turns out she was right. (She’s a brilliant lady so that happens a lot.) The characters are surprisingly believable and the story moves at an entertaining pace. Still, there are waaaaay too many passages about how beautiful Edward is. I get it. He’s a good looking cat. Let’s move on.
2) Random Free Channels on my HD TV.
For some reason my HD TV picks up odd ball channels. Over the weekend I was treated to The Dark Knight, There Will Be Blood, and bad 80s porn. There appears to be no rhyme or reason for where these shows come from. Channels will disappear after each movie and, sometimes, the programs are fast forwarded. The bad porn for example. The dialogue scenes were mostly fast forwarded to get to the nastiness. I’m starting to think I’m picking up some creepy neighbors satellite signal. Weird. But highly entertaining. If anyone knows about this phenomena please let me know.
1) Free Whoppers!
I bought one of those “Support a School” coupon book thingies at Burger King and have been livin’ the fatty lifestyle ever since. Why have one Whopper when you can clog your arteries with two for the same price! Heh. See, this is why other countries hate us. I’m convinced the Russians secretly took control of the fast food industry in the mid-80s and are slowly killing us Capitalist pigs with delicious fried cheese. Commie bastards.
Now, for the sake of balance, here are a couple of things the pissed me off last week.
2) They’re making a Spider-Man musical.
This hurts me deep inside. While my love of Spidey is unwavering I have no desire to see this future train wreck.
A dance number with the Daily Bugle Bullpen.
A tearful solo from Mary Jane.
Aunt May singin’ about wheat cakes.
Shudder.
I’ll pass thanks. Though, whomever plays Peter Parker will have to be better than that android they call Tobey.
1) Ann Hathaway needs a sandwich.
I like me some Ann Hathaway. But good lord she’s skinny. Perhaps I’ll use one of my Burger King coupons and send her a double cheese burger.
---BJS
5) Hugh Jackman’s Oscar opening number.
This was just funny! If you missed it you really need to catch it on Youtube or something. Him singing about how he didn’t see The Reader nearly brought me to tears.
4) Netflix: My new best friend
Rachael and I got a subscription for Christmas and have been using the hell out of it ever since. Last week I watched a forgotten classic: Monster Squad. If you’ve never seen this movie go right now to a place where movies are rented or sold and rent it. Or buy it. If you liked The Goonies this is even better. And if you didn’t like The Goonies….well then I don’t care to know you. Please leave now.
3) Twilight.
Sigh. Yes. I’m reading Twilight. What, you may ask, would make a Football lovin’, UFC watchin’ dude read a tale of teen romance? Quite simply my wife loves it. No, love isn’t right. What’s stronger then love? Who said plastic?!? Get out of here!Anyway, she’s spellbound with the entire world of Teen Vampire love and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. So I saw the movie and was completely bored. Still, she insisted that the book was much better and I relented. Turns out she was right. (She’s a brilliant lady so that happens a lot.) The characters are surprisingly believable and the story moves at an entertaining pace. Still, there are waaaaay too many passages about how beautiful Edward is. I get it. He’s a good looking cat. Let’s move on.
2) Random Free Channels on my HD TV.
For some reason my HD TV picks up odd ball channels. Over the weekend I was treated to The Dark Knight, There Will Be Blood, and bad 80s porn. There appears to be no rhyme or reason for where these shows come from. Channels will disappear after each movie and, sometimes, the programs are fast forwarded. The bad porn for example. The dialogue scenes were mostly fast forwarded to get to the nastiness. I’m starting to think I’m picking up some creepy neighbors satellite signal. Weird. But highly entertaining. If anyone knows about this phenomena please let me know.
1) Free Whoppers!
I bought one of those “Support a School” coupon book thingies at Burger King and have been livin’ the fatty lifestyle ever since. Why have one Whopper when you can clog your arteries with two for the same price! Heh. See, this is why other countries hate us. I’m convinced the Russians secretly took control of the fast food industry in the mid-80s and are slowly killing us Capitalist pigs with delicious fried cheese. Commie bastards.
Now, for the sake of balance, here are a couple of things the pissed me off last week.
2) They’re making a Spider-Man musical.
This hurts me deep inside. While my love of Spidey is unwavering I have no desire to see this future train wreck.
A dance number with the Daily Bugle Bullpen.
A tearful solo from Mary Jane.
Aunt May singin’ about wheat cakes.
Shudder.
I’ll pass thanks. Though, whomever plays Peter Parker will have to be better than that android they call Tobey.
1) Ann Hathaway needs a sandwich.
I like me some Ann Hathaway. But good lord she’s skinny. Perhaps I’ll use one of my Burger King coupons and send her a double cheese burger.
---BJS
Thursday, February 19, 2009
One more time with feeling...
Do people still write in diaries?
Honestly, if I wanted to purchase a journal could I even find one or would the clerk just stare at me puzzled?
I ask because this is my third attempt at keeping an active blog. The first two just kind of fizzled out. The classic combo of work, television, and general laziness. But I have to think the folk that keep a diary don’t have these problems. To me a diary is something updated religiously. I doubt you’ll find many diaries with the gapping time holes that most blogs feature. It’s fun to think of some middle aged woman taking out her favorite pen every Tuesday night and chronicling her weekly adventures for the last 30 years. There’s something romantic abou—
What?
Shut up! People have favorite pens! I see. It’s going to be like that is it?
Fine. Whatever.
Anyway, I’m back and hopefully this time for good. My plan is to post here at least once a week. There’s no particular theme to this blog. Just whatever I feel like talking about. Let’s get to it then.
It’s quite strange to see The Mario Bros. in their 8-bit glory on a Hi-Definition TV. I got the video game urge the other day. Sadly I’m not cool enough to have a Wii. So I dusted off my old Nintendo and have been mashing buttons like it’s 1989. Sure the graphics are cheesy and the music is enough to make you wanna kick a puppy. But for the most part these games are just fun. See this is how I know I’m getting old. Well, that and my head’s refusal to grow hair. Stupid head. These games are just fun. But the kicker…I still suck at them.
I still can’t beat Mario 3…
The Ninja Turtles always die on my watch…
And I refuse to believe that anyone has every beaten Mike Tyson’s Punch Out. (Could Tyson be on digital Steriods?)
Still, good times.
In other news a Tyrannosaurs Rex was in my backyard.
Well…no. Not really. I can’t back that up.When Rachael (my lovely bride) and I moved into our new house last summer we had a horrid overgrown pond in the backyard. We decided to rip it out and fill it in, but we ran out of time and Winter crept in before we could fill it. So now we have these nasty Sarlacc pit outside. Thankfully the snow came and made the yard bright and clean. But it never quite snows enough to fully cover the hole. So we’ve got this big ol’ dinosaur footprint staring at us. I need to take a picture because it’s really bizarre looking. What I really want to do is get an exact model of the Superman ship. The one he crashed to Earth in as a baby. Wouldn’t it be cool to put that sucker in there and leave it uncovered? People'd be like, what's that? And I'd be like, Oh, just my ship. Excuse me a momment. I have to go fight crime.Wow.
What a first blog. Nintendo, Dinosaurs, and Superman. Why my wife loves me I’ll never now.
---BJS
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