Just Watch Me!

I'm not sure if it's a trend or the only reason I write these blogs at all: I've had a few (drinks).

As I sit here at our amazing $500 dining room table, Hokie is sitting patiently to my left, staring at me. This is due in no small part to the fact that I just ate a slice of bread. Maybe some of it will fall on the floor? There is always a chance. Ever since someone spilled beer on the floor during a new year's eve party a few years ago, Hokie has begged every time I've cracked a beer or consumed anything remotely alcoholic.

Today at the shop we had a crotchety old man we call "grumpy santa" sit and watch John work on his machine...ALL DAY. We gave him this name due to his resemblance to Santa, white beard and all, and due to his attitude resembling that of Andy Rooney if someone maybe didn't replace the toilet paper roll in the 60 Minutes bathroom.

Poor John had to not only enable RAID on 8 (count'em EIGHT) hard drives, he also had to create a dual boot option for windows 7 and windows xp. Seems Grumpy Santa doesn't want to lose his treasured porn collection and I suppose some porn apps don't work on Windows 7? Jobs like this I almost always pass on to John; I don't think he'd have it any other way... I don't think he wants his business partner in jail because given the same circumstance I would have certainly killed him. I can't fathom being a surgeon in one of those circular "surgical theaters".. can you imagine the scene?

"Dr. Bragg, here's the scalpel...what are you waiting for?" "I'll make the incision as soon as that guy up there gets lost. Or maybe he'd like me to remove his pancreas and mail it to his mother?"

Yes, I have an angry streak. To be fair, I don't go to the mechanic and watch over his shoulder as he changes the oil in my car; I don't stare at my carpenter as he hangs drywall in my living room; I don't pull up a chair and watch my clothes spin around in the dryer. Yes! I even have respect for the dryer! It's presumably doing the job I paid for, so I @%@ # off and let it do it's thing. I just wish some of our customers would afford us the same courtesy.

Bite Me, Reality

So it's another slow Saturday; I play tug of war with the dog, eat some chinese food, and flip on the television after drinking a few beer.

"I bet you'd rather give a back massage to a grizzly bear with a handful of razorblades than mess with me" exclaims Earl (he looks like an Earl, although I didn't read his oval shaped name-tag), as he boasts about how he enjoy his job repossessing cars.

It seems I've landed in the middle of yet another reality show.

This one about car repo-men, subpoena-servers, and security guards at wrestling events. I'm not sure if there was more actual dialogue or more beeps to cover up the foul language: "you @%@ ain't gonna take my @#%@'n car, no you @%@% ain't!!" Apparently Lurlene (she looks like a Lurlene, I didn't read her 1982 Camaro's vanity license plate, so I can't be sure) didn't take kindly to Earl's brother towing away her car (she kicked his tow-truck). I believe throughout the entire episode, the poor camerman was told at least 8 times to "get that @%@n camera out of my @%#$^#n face." Hey, he's just doing his job.

So I got to thinking near the end of this crap how many reality shows there must be at this point, since "Survivor" got the ball rolling in the late 90's.

We went from a show about self centered assholes playing headgames with each other to a show about eating bugs and making people do stuff that one wouldn't do unless under the influence of PCP. Shortly after that we had groups of married couples who hated each other and we followed their race all over the planet, including some third-world countries ("hey, help a brother out! how about selling that video camera and feeding my @%@n village! "Sorry, I have a flight to Paris to catch, and so do the 8 couples behind me; you'll probably see them in 10, 20 and 50 minutes from now.")

I think in the past 2 years the reality craze (at least among producers) really took off. Following the bounty hunter and his quest to find bad guys on a small island while purchasing larger and larger vehicles to contain his wife's breasts, we now have shows following an exterminator in the deep south, people who can't drive, people who can't lose weight, people who write parking tickets (!), people who purchase crap out of storage units (!!), rednecks who build motorcycles, teenage sluts on MTV, a family with 8 kids who is trying to climb out of debt, families who need a fat, childless, unmarried British nanny to teach them how to parent, a myriad of talent shows, aspiring chefs being yelled at by a pompous British-Hitler with an apron, a guy who chased dangerous animals (who gave his life for the cause, no less), dozens of "Cops" shows and their imitators, kids alone in a ghost town, people with 86 cats in a house full of garbage that they won't throw away, one about @%@d up families trying to save their even more @#%@d up relatives by getting them a flight to Arizona, one about getting women married to a rich guy, and one about wannabe models who's combined IQ doesn't match the temperature in Sarah Palin's backyard.

There's even a sitcom about a reality show. "The Office"; has to be the best of the bunch.

I'm sure I've left out a few. I'm actually ashamed I know that these shows exist (Thanks to John for giving me even more).

Even when our own realities don't suck we enjoy watching other peoples' realities, as long they turn into a trainwreck.

I never did care much for Nascar, but alas, millions do.

Sigh.

Simple as a Snowball Throw

Every morning before work and every night when I get home, I take Hokie outside and throw snowballs back and forth for her to chase (up here, that's about 6 months a year). The moment her first paw hits the snow, her tail is wagging so fast it's a blur. I feel like it's the least I can do, seeing as how she comes to work with us each day and waits patiently between customers and their treats to go home and start the routine all over again.

As I've mentioned on these posts before, we have a hot-tub, a 100" screen for our HD projector, and 4 theater chairs. We have a lot of "stuff" which in a way might reflect some modicum of "success". I don't have a lot of friends up here, which due to my own introverted ways is my own fault.

I don't need to watch football anymore. I don't think I've seen more than 3 or 4 quarters all year. Watching illiterate millionaire athletes doesn't do it for me anymore.
I could care less that North Korea is threatening the south with nuclear war. I don't take any pleasure out of watching the evening news like I used to during the gulf war. None of it impacts my here-and-now.
As much as I'd like to see Sarah Palin gored by a moose on her stupid Alaska reality show, I won't tune in for the chance to see that, either.
I still dig 80's music and I still turn it up loud when John's not home. Thanks, grooveshark.com.
I still avoid a fair bit of social interaction; gets too complicated sometimes. I know I'm guilty of it, too, but most people just want to bitch or complain about something that happened during their day.

Most times nothing compares to a game of "go-get-it" with Hokie. She is happy; it's all she wants out of life. Plain and simple.

Neverending Renovation

The very day we took possession of this house, a year ago June, our hot tub was delivered. The very next day, we started painting...John the upstairs, myself the basement. Throughout the past year we have (quite evenly spaced out, I might add) done the following:

* Completely remodeled the upstairs washroom, slate tile flooring, door-less glass shower..even a new toilet.
* New wood floor in the master bedroom, along with new closet.
* New wood floor in "hot-tub" room (I recently restored a travel-kitchen my grandfather made 40 years ago, and turned it into a side-table)
* New wood floor in theater room (more on that later)
* New vinyl floor in laundry/weight room
* New carpet in room opposite theater room, adjoining the laundry room
* Built a deck for the hot tub, and one for the sliding-glass door (for the BBQ)
* Removed the pole holding up the ceiling in the theater room and replaced it with a beam, giving us more room (the beam was in the middle of the room!)
* Had theater chairs delivered (John's idea) that with a push of a button, prop your feet up. Also holds beer.
...and most recently, using what remains of our slate tile to finish off the downstairs washroom.

Can anyone guess what we're avoiding? Anyone? Anyone?? Bueller?

That's right, boys and girls. It's the Kitchen. Estimates range from 20-30k. That's a lot of computers. Unfortunately, with the kitchen resembling something you'd see in a circa-1970's episode of "Mama's Family" the contrast with the rest of the house is too much to deal with. I almost expect Rod Serling to be standing in the corner of the kitchen when I walk in for breakfast:
"Portrait of a cheap procrastinator: Every morning David Bragg walks into this very kitchen to feed his golden retriever and to pour himself a bowl of cereal. And every morning he sighs with shame as he gazes at he out-dated flooring and aged pine cabinets. His life has earned itself a motto "Repeat". Regret, ignore, continue. And the next morning.. and the next morning."

Here's hoping that in 2011 I finally enter the Twilight Zone and finally stop caring so much about money.

QWOP

Last night John showed me a website http://www.foddy.net/Athletics.html where you attempt with the aid of 4 keys QWOP to make an animated runner run 100 meters. Sounds simple enough in theory, but I imagine Helen Keller after 4 martinis would have just as much luck. After trying every conceivable sequence of the letters QWOP (which control thighs and calves), my "runner" always seems to be getting hit with machine-gun fire; that is, flailing around and falling backward on his ass or his head.

I think it would have made more sense if they had called the game "KRAMER".....or maybe "MEL GIBSON".

Starting Over

Three days ago my Great-Uncle Hartley died at the age of 99. Last year he self-published a journal "Hartley's Journal" of his thoughts and opinions of current and past events, along with some stories from his past that are humorous, if not relevant (which they were). The last page reads "Thank you for reading my journal...now go write your own."

My last two posts are from over a year ago, so I'll start over from here. What follows is the eulogy I wrote for his funeral next week, which my father will read for me in my absence. Uncle Hartley read my eulogy for my grandmother 7 years ago.

Let me start off by saying that I hope everyone here can forgive my dad for not being able to do the Donald duck voice. Uncle Hartley’s impressions resonate through my mind as if he was standing next to me right now and it would have been a cool way to start this speech: “Hi everybody, why are you all so sad? Turn that frown upside down! 99 years is a long time for a duck.”

I hope everyone here is in a mood to celebrate Uncle Hartley’s long and amazing life. While no one can be entirely prepared for this day, we should all be smiling with the memories of the funny stories he told and the boyish, sheepish grin with which he told them.

I envy those of you who got to spend the better part of their lives with or close to Hartley. Living so far away makes times like this difficult for me because in the end, all we have is family. We make this journey through life sort of like how Hartley and Clare travelled. We go from place to place for a random length of time, attempting to experience new things and places with our own independent points of view, hoping to find things to inspire us…while always “checking in” with the folks back home. They matter the most, after all. “Are the kids ok? Just making sure. Need a hand with anything? …are you sure you don’t need us to come back home early?” (Maybe all of this was from a payphone in Albuquerque). The point being: we are never entirely alone, even if you live in the middle-of-nowhere Ontario like me.

I know that all of you who were lucky enough to live closer to Hartley than myself treasured every experience with him. Not just for the funny stories, but for the inspiration of his never-ending will to learn and experience new things, as well as the genuine interest he took in all of your lives. I’m grateful that despite the distance between myself and Hartley, that the internet brought us closer together in the last few years. There’s nothing like feeling needed and for someone like him to need me in any capacity is an honor I’ll hold on to for the rest of my life.

The same goes for family in general. You need to all need each other for life to be worth living. Look at your loved ones right now and reflect on that for just a minute.

Goodbye Hartley

I’ll miss you forever… and yes, I’m still fascinated by how that toilet worked in the RV you had back in 1980. Thanks for helping me keep my mind young. I’ll keep smiling like you, as if I were 10 years old.

Love-

Dave

you think you know someone...

Too often because people are categorized we assume how they must think on a particular subject and therefore change course or just give up and forget the whole thing to avoid confrontation.

I'm guilty of that; no use lying about it. I have friends and acquaintances that fall all over the political spectrum, from left to right. For that, I'm proud of myself. I give everyone the chance I want to be given. Unfortunately, my entire life has been spent walking on broken glass and taking the easy detours.

Not to get into a mode of sounding like a bad after school special; I know I'm cynical too. This is my downfall. A few days ago a friend of over 20 years dropped a bomb on me that took about 500 pounds off my shoulders. I had assumed that because he came from a conservative, church-going house, that I had better keep certain things about me to myself. I was as wrong as the Orioles trading away Eddie Murray away in 1987. I'm still upset about that, too.

That day definitely gave me more courage; maybe the ability to have a frank discussion with the family over Christmas; we'll see. The hardest part is not judging and not assuming who'd have a problem.

So here's to the one who got the ball rolling-- you know I love you like a brother and I hope you're in my life for the duration. To Terry, Rick, Chad, and Marc; you are part of my foundation. I hope when the day the bomb drops the walls don't crumble.
That would be a total bummer!