Showing posts from March, 2010

My new VA plate #


Beware the paper shredder

Luckily for me I still have one friend left from my old company, come to think of it, he is my only friend.  At any rate, he religiously sends me the ridiculous safety crap from emails and meetings.  The latest incident happened with a paper shredder.  I have embedded the pdf below.

Fortunately for all of us, we have recovered the 911 call for this horrible incident: 
(if you can't hear the call, click here to download)

Gas, gas everywhere and not a drop to buy

Last weekend I was on a road trip home and stopped for gas in the great state of Pennsylvania.  Much to my chagrin, the debit card that I normally use to purchase extravagant things like food and other essential supplies wouldn't work.  Thinking that my card was broken, I called the 1-800 number.  Well, come to find out my account had been frozen for child support arrears.  I know what you're saying, Eric, you fucking bastard!  How can you shirk out on your fatherly duties?  It's true, I purposefully lost my job, lived in basements and accepted handouts to suffer for my craft.

As I sat there in my car wondering what to do about this dire situation, I thought, to myself, "Maybe if I sleep in my car tonight someone will break in and kill me."  I looked around for anything I could hock for about fifty bucks.  I figured I would probably get in trouble if I sold my work laptop and I would rather lose a leg than sell my iPod.  So, I braced myself for the March Pennsylv…

The Red Queen

Hmmm.  There's something familiar about her.  I can't quite put my finger on it.  Could it be the giant head with that mop of hair?  The short 4'11" body?  That nasty turn on you at the drop of a hat personality?  I don't know maybe it's nothing.

Ingenious pool heater or secret Nazi decide.

Of the many life-scarring household building projects that occurred at the old family homestead, none stands out more in everyone's mind than the satanic black iron pool heater contraption that the old man came up with. Growing up, there was always some pile of pressure-treated wood, stones, concrete, siding, PVC pipe, mulch, shingles, roof tar, knotty pine, slate, landscape timbers, park-a flooring, insulation, replacement windows, central vacuum system, and AstroTurf carpeting just waiting to be deployed at the estate. It always gave you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach to wake up on a Saturday morning and find ten gallons of orange paint waiting for you in the dining room.

In the old days one of the greatest symbols that you had made it in the world, was to have an in ground pool. The Old Man finally achieved this goal and life was good. Or maybe. The one lingering thought in his mind was that the pool was never quite warm enough. So he and his son-n-law,…

I Can’t Pay the Rent ‘Cause I’m Addicted to Codeine

In this, the final in the three part story of The Old Man’s business ventures and properties, I’m going to tell the glorious tale of 219. 219 is the number of the house down the street that The Old Man owned for many years.

(219 in the college days)

At some point in the mid ‘70s, The Old Man purchased a perfectly wretched two story house with the intent of making a fortune in rent. It stood ominously above the street just daring someone to tame it. The craggy old man who lived across the street from 219 always had an itch to buy it and live there with his equally craggy wife. He resented The Old Man for owning such a magnificent structure. He would call the police for any little incident that happened involving the renters.

219 was what you would call a “fixer upper” but what it lacked in elegance, it made up for it in filth. From what I can recall, 219 was a traditional turn of the century building. The house had a really bitchin’ extra stairwell in the back of the kitche…