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Posted on August 27, 2008 by DmentD:
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Posted on August 25, 2008 by DmentD:
So, the right side of my double sink in the kitchen was leaking a bit from round the drain flange where the drain met the sink. No problem. That's just a matter of replacing the crusty plumber's putty that's dried out and lost it's elasticity, causing a little leak.
Removed the giant nut that holds it on and pulled the drain out. Pulled the nut out from under the sink, looked at what I had, and cursed every landlord that ever just "made do" with a rental property (this house was a rental before I bought it). Have a look.
The nut was cracked (and not from me removing it), and the jackasses just packed the area around the nut with plumber's putty to stop any leaks that sprung up. Had to schlep my way to Home Depot at eight o'clock at night and buy a whole new sink drain and nut assembly, because they don't sell just the nut.
*mumblegrumblecurse*
Stupid fucking sink.
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Posted on August 22, 2008 by DmentD:
Ok, I'm seeing double right now.
My favorite shows on the idiot box are mostly composed of cooking shows (Good Eats, Ace of Cakes, Iron Chef America, and an outside contender that skirts the line between food and travel show... No Reservations), Discovery Channel fun/danger shows (MythBusters, Dirty Jobs, Deadliest Catch), BBC America imports (Top Gear, The Graham Norton Show... and hoping like hell that QI makes its way across eventually), and a number of one-offs that aren't defined by a genre.
I just picked up a new one, basically a "contractors fucked up my home, I'd like you to make it right" type show. The host comes in and soberly, with minimal sensationalism, tears out as much of the original poor construction as necessary — pointing out where the original contractor screwed the pooch with relation to safety and code — and redoes it properly, explaining what and why he's doing. The show is Holmes on Homes, and the host, Mike Holmes is a sturdily built dude, with a no nonsense attitude, and a Boy Scout complex a mile wide. He looks, sounds and behaves almost exactly like my brother, Animal, if he would have gone into construction. It amuses me to no end. |
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Posted on August 21, 2008 by DmentD:
Hello loyal readership (and by loyal readership, I mean my near countless minions numbering in the single digits). So, while I do not have a trip journal to entertain you with yet, I do feel like blabbering. So, why not?
First and foremost, the HMS Sweets has docked on our shores. Her flights — in complete defiance of common practice — were all not only on time and effortless, but even had the audacity to arrive early in some cases. I don't know what we did to deserve this cosmic/karmic boon, but I sure as hell won't be forgetting to toast DeJockamo any time soon. I threw a "Belated Happy Birthday & Welcome Home" party in her honor the day after her arrival, complete with lots of grilled animal flesh, and a cake in the shape of a sheep (pictures forthcoming). Good food, good company, and puppies galore running around and being cute as can be. Capped off by some homemade tiramisu ice cream (my own recipe, thankyouverymuch), the day was a success.
We then spent the following week getting her settled in: opening a US bank account, a cell phone, getting a dresser, unpacking, hanging pictures (I left them down so she could help me hang them, and contribute to decorating the house and feel like it's her place too, not just my house that she is staying at), going to her orientation at the culinary academy, birthday present clothes shopping (for Texas-heat appropriate apparel), and other such things.
It's spooky how well and easily we've settled into the house together, and have established a happy routine. Mind you, this is only the second week, but so far it's gone well. As different as we both are, we see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially when it comes to keeping house. She's spent so long trying to keep her head above water — cleaning wise — in a house with three to four other housemates, that she's developed basically the same housekeeping philosophy it took me thirty four years to evolve. Neither of us are OC neat freaks, but we like a tidy house... and a clean and orderly kitchen especially. Things get put away in a timely fashion, but we shun dusting unless absolutely necessary. We keep house in such a manner that we would never be embarrassed if company stopped by unexpectedly. So, we seem to be domestically very compatible at this point. Check back, gentle readers, in a year.
Sweets' first week of school is going well for her, all three days of it so far. They've covered sanitary practices and health codes, temperatures and other things. She's covered all this in her UK courses already, but just needs to learn the Fahrenheit temps instead of the Celsius temps. Day one, in the first few minutes alone, she charmed the pants off of her instructor for this first three week course, simply by opening her mouth and talking — her accent made the instructor nearly swoon, and now she's telling the other instructors to just listen to Sweets talk. I told her before she got here, that her accent is going to be key in charming and winning people over, well before her culinary talent is called to action. Americans are predisposed to accept a smooth, posh English accent as a sign of culture, refinement and intelligence — and I'm not saying "ha, she's going to have everyone fooled", because she is wickedly intelligent and charming too, but that she should use our genetic weakness to make friends and contacts in the industry as it is a fantastic foot in the door.
And I must say, I have discovered a hitherto unknown fetish for cute, bespectacled women wearing a crisp, white, double-breasted chef's jacket.
And on to thoughts that do not involve domestic bliss.
Been reading a lot of Kevin Smith's blog My Boring Ass Life, as well as Wil Wheaton's blog WWdN: In Exile. It's oddly quite comforting to know that two pop-culture icons of my generation, two moderately successful guys who occupy the limelight, are just a coupla' normal schmoes like me. If you remove their fame, money and notoriety — hell, in spite of their fame, money and notoriety — they lead relatively normal human lives. They're geeks, have everyday insecurities, do their best to hustle up work and provide a decent life for themselves and their families, get pissed off at the drive thru when their order is wrong, and basically are human to their very core. They're warm, decent guys, and I have an overwhelming desire to spend a few hours just sitting around and bullshitting over a few drinks with them (and Wil, I recommend PranQster Belgian Style Golden Ale).
They make my list of "celebrities" I'd like to drink with, which is composed of people who are earthy and interesting. As a result they don't trigger that idol-worship reflex that causes one — when in the presence of someone famous — to sweat profusely, stammer uncontrollably, say inane things and give limp, damp handshakes. Others on that list include Fred LeBlanc of Cowboy Mouth, Douglas Adams (now a long gone chance), Chris Elliot and Bruce Campbell. All hard working, intelligent stiffs, and not infected with a prima donna complex.
Been grilling a lot. I've always liked grilling, but have had a near three year hiatus due to some blowhard bitch that killed my home in NOLA. The staples of grilling live in my freezer — boneless skinless chicken breasts and sirloin burgers from Sam’s — but I've started a meat-affair with my local semi-fa-fa grocery, Central Market (think Whole Foods with only half a stick up their ass). They offer pre-marinated fresh animal flesh of all types that walk, fly or swim. Their chicken is divine, especially the pesto garlic marinated variety, and dear Jeebus their dry-rub seasoned fajita beef rocked my world.
Have also grilled my fair share of veggies, too, most notably corn-on-the-cob. And while I'm a sentimental, aesthetic fool and like the notion of grilling corn in the husk, I think the best method yet is to de-husk it, brush it lightly with butter, sprinkle a bit of salt and pepper, wrap in foil and throw that on the grill over medium heat, turning it two times at five minute intervals (15 minutes total). You still get some color on the kernels, but you preserve most all of the moisture, and the butter can seep between the kernels nicely. Even with soaking in cold water, the husks still dry out quickly, char and catch fire.
Aaaand, that's what I gots for now. |
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Posted on July 4, 2008 by DmentD:
Ok, some videos and such to distract you from the fact that I haven't posted anything about my recent trip to Wales.
First Where The Hell Is Matt (2008). The back story of the video is this:
"Matthew Harding spent 14 months visiting 42 countries in order to produce "Where the Hell is Matt?", a four-and-a-half minute video featuring Harding (and anyone else he could rope into it) doing an incredibly silly, high-energy dance in some of the most breathtaking scenery around the world. This may be the best four minutes and twenty-eight seconds of your week." I happen to agree. The video made me grin like a fool for no reason — and for every reason, it just made my heart feel light, and made me happy. I liked the song enough to actually pay for it (conceal your shocked expressions, please). If you wanna know more about Matt and his 15 minutes of fame, you can read all about it on HIS SITE.
Second, a video that I'm sure everyone has seen, but just hit my radar today, courtesy of an email. I present to you, the heartbreak of COOTIES.
Lastly... sometimes it's worth watching the ORIGINAL, sincere, but unintentionally silly video, just so you can really enjoy the PARODIES, as most of the time they are FUNNIER, and more LUDICROUS. And then someone comes along and does THIS (ignore the video, listen to the music). |
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