I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

The top home improvements made by The Old Man

As I have written before, The Old Man had an unmatched skill at coming up with insane projects around the estate. This will be a two part segment and I will attempt to list the coolest and most ingenious.

Although I wasn't around for the first twenty some odd years of the estate, stories have been handed down for what seem like an millennia. So in no certain order, here they are.


The Blue Vinyl Siding

Livin' the dream






The estate spent many years covered in a hard siding that was made out of asbestos siding seen here:



Well after a couple different paint schemes, the house looked dated and scary, it was time to replace the old siding.  The Old Man debated long and hard on what to replace the sad asbestos with and he decided on vinyl siding. He struck a deal with a contractor who he put a furnace in for and work was set to begin. But first, the old siding had to come off.  So the work force sprang into action and began ripping it off the house. But where would the workers put the broken pieces? A rented dumpster perhaps? Don't bother trying to guess because you never would be right. The broken siding, nails and other scrap were buried in the ground on the sides of the fence surrounding the pool. This served two purposes. 1. It built up the level of the ground so the fence no longer had gaps under it. 2. It was the cheapest and easiest way to get rid of tons of asbestos.

The Kitchen Deck

Like Hitler at his Berghof, The Old Man was master of all he surveyed. But something was missing. One day The Old Man and one of his SS lieutenants had the brilliant idea of carving a giant hole in the kitchen wall. This would allow Herr Old Man to erect a good sized deck with stairs leading down to his beloved pool. Plus, guests would not have to walk all the way around the front of the house or go through the cellar to get to the backyard. Soon a pressure treated deck and railing were completed along with a gorgeous patio door right off the kitchen. The deck even was equipped with accent lighting hidden under the railing. The Old Woman was thrilled. She now could sit up on the deck and watch friends and family in the pool.

The Slate Floor

Slate, it's not just a fancy roof covering. Now I don't exactly know how The Old Man thought of this bitchin' idea, but at one point he had a slate floor installed in the kitchen. If you don't know what slate looks like here is a picture, note this looks nothing like our kitchen:

To be honest the slate was a marked improvement over the brown shag carpeting that graced the kitchen previously. That beaut must have been fueled by gallons of Gennesee Cream Ale. Well, slate requires a nice and even subsurface in order to remain stable and not come up. This was not the case in the estate. Grout was constantly cracking and breaking apart allowing any water or Pepsi spilled on the floor to seep under the slate. Hence, the tiles were always loose. Understandably, this drove The Old Man nuts and a seemingly endless cycle of grouting and cementing of the floor occurred. Finally, the slate was replaced with a hardwood floor which in turn was destroyed by two Cocker spaniels. But that is another story.


The Boudoir Addition

The front of the estate had a beautiful Antebellumesque porch on the front of it. Weirdly, the The Old Man and Woman's bedroom was downstairs and located in the front of the house. It was a fairly small room, but it was enough to get the job done, if you know what I mean. The Old Woman yearned for some extra closet space for the furs, shoes and Liz Claiborne clothes. Guess what? Yes the outside wall was knocked out under the porch roof and a fabulous addition was constructed. This included his and hers closet space and a parquet floor. There's one odd Winchester House type twist of the addition, the ceiling fan in the room is positioned to cool, well nothing. There's absolutely no reason to have a ceiling fan in this closet addition.

Next time: The New Room, The Pool and others.


That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. How to stalk hot chicks at Target.

Even though I spent some hellish months working at Target, shopping there is a different beast entirely. I'm always in awe of the high-quality hotness of the women that I see in any Target that I go to. There are also many hot mom types with their kids in tow. Usually, the brats are screaming about some toy or candy that they want. Unfortunately for men in their mid thirty's, their female counterparts have all fallen apart and have become old hags. All those years of laying in a tanning bed has turned their skin into a candidate for a knockoff Gucci hand bag. This is especially true if they have popped out a couple of kids. Ugh, that's just an all around disaster area down in the nether region. That sexy tramp stamp tattoo has now just become a green blur riding the back fat wave. So it's refreshing to actually see hot moms walking around Target and it makes me wonder where the hell they come from.

So here's the typical stalk outing:
1. Enter the store and get your cart.  (This will make it seem like you have a life and are buying things for other people in your household).

2. Start out in the women's clothing section. (Don't actually go into the individual aisles, just stay in the main one). Eye your prey and take note of it for later.

3. Now head on over to men's clothing, hey you have to see if there's anything new on sale.

4. Make your way to the toys section. Look around and maybe pick up a Transformers car or something and put it in your cart. (This will disarm any potential victim and lull her into a false sense of security. Any man buying a toy for a kid can't be that bad). Don't approach any hot moms with children. Women with children are already in a bad mood and tend to lash out at the nearest man.

5. Saunter on over to the cleaning and air freshener aisles. If there are any chicks there, look confused and pick up some laundry detergent. Start to read the label and scratch your head. (This will wretch the motherly instincts out of the nearest chick and she will attempt to learn you in the art of washing clothes if asked). Tell her of your new place that you just moved into and how you turned one of your white dress shirts pink by washing a red polo shirt with it. If you aren't a complete hideous mess, you may have a shot at getting her number. Otherwise, at least you have a nice visual for when you are home alone at night.

6. After you have done your shopping and all else has failed, go on back to women's clothing or jewelry.  If there are any hotties there, look confusingly at some watches tell her you are looking for a gift for your sister's birthday. Ask her which one she likes.

If you follow these simple steps and maybe you'll stop being the lonely pathetic loser that you are. Or you will just get maced.

The SS Deflation- the air mattress from Hell

In a recent trip back home, I chose to stay with my parents at the old estate. This would also allow me to spend some much needed time with my son. Not to mention The Old Man and Old Woman in their last few remaining years. Fortunately for us the old mansion in the city is still in great shape and has a multitude of rooms in which to frolic. My son picked out his own knotty pine laden room and plugged in his Nintendo DS charger and laid out his Webkinz animals on the bed. By bed I mean moth eaten mattress laying on the floor. Luckily, my son is very resilient and lets many thing roll off his back. After we scraped off the layer of dust off on TV in the room, we were ready for a fabulous night.

After a while we were ready for bed.  As I lay there on the same mattress with my son, his asthma and other ailments kicked in and the snoring and snorting began. Now, there is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for this kid. I would gladly take a bullet for him.  I barely slept, but it was worth it.

The next day began with the down stairs TV set to the bull horn volume setting. After a day of old movies and long dead family stories, it was time for bed.  This night my oldest brother, let's call him Steve, decided to spend the night after the ceaseless lovers spat with his old hag.  Well that sneaky Steve took over the "luxury" floor mattress and moved our things into another room. This room used to be mine.  The room now contained the sad remnants of a once vibrant and happy family. Miscellaneous clothes, books and pictures were strewn about covered in dust and despair.

Steve filled a ghastly air mattress for us to sleep on. This air mattress is one in which the air doesn't like to be confined. Upon laying down on the wretched thing, a hissing sound was heard.  My son fell fast asleep.  Maybe the leaking air was soothing, I don't know.  After my backside started hitting the floor, I made my way to the couch.  I battled the gigantic pillows and went to sleep.

In the morning I cracked my back and went upstairs to check on my son. I sort of gasped at the site. It was like looking at a baby deer engulfed in a blue lava flow. There he was wrapped in the vinyl of the air mattress snoring away happily.

For future trips home, I have already gathered a list of hotels in which to stay at.

Death Becomes Me is back

I have decided to moon conformity and reinstate the blog forever.  I refuse to compromise who I am just to make money.