D'Oh! or: Uncle P's "First World Problems" Weekend

"I Could Ride That Lip All the Way to Trenton!" ~ Uncle P's Mother

Once again, some links in this post may be NSFW.

So, last night... Uncle P spent 90+ minutes writing, researching and linking hilarious and informative links in a post which I failed to revert to draft, forcing me to re-log into Blogger and lose everything I had painstakingly worked on to give you, what few faithful readers I have, a few moments of weird entertainment. I wasn't happy, but it certainly wasn't the end of the world, nor the first time my own neglectfulness had led to such an issue.

Today, my sweet, thoughtful mother (who is nothing like the Gerald Scarfe illustration linked in the Pouty Picture's caption) presented me with an "Anti-Fathers' Day" present. And before all you Grammar Nazis question it, the apostrophe is used the way it should be used in this case, meaning all fathers, rather than just yours, which would be written as 'Father's.' (Can you tell I'm in a mood? Thought you might.) Anyway... In the wake of my previously mentioned BIL's greatly appreciated semi-decimation of my long-neglected backyard's overgrowth, the task of disposing over-sized nuisance flora left behind by his Herculean effort seemed nothing short of over-whelming to yours truly. Mom, in her infinite thoughtfulness, saw this set of ratcheting pruning shears on my sister's competition and ordered them (in blue), thinking they might save me time and effort

And boy, was she right. I tried them out almost right away and found that they cut through some rather tough branches with little effort and thinner ones with almost none at all. Like 'buttah.' The hand shears took on weeds, smaller shrubs, saplings and rose branches just as easily, once I figured out how to open the damned things (no instructions led to some consternation when it came to figuring out the safety lock). I honestly haven't been so pleased by a practical gift in a very long time. If you're looking for a gift for Dad; Mom; Dads; Moms or even if you're just a homeowner with an overgrown yard, I highly recommend them. They were purchased from the major home-shopping channel that is not located in the F state. And if that doesn't help, it starts with the same letter as one of my dearest friend's name.

Sadly, my joy over the amazing pruners was soon negated, once again by own stupidity. Plans had been made for Q, Dale, K and I to see Man of Steel at our central (i.e. default) AMC multiplex. In an effort to control my credit card spending, Uncle P chose not to buy tickets online, instead picking up K in time (or so I thought) to buy tickets once at the theater. For the first time in all my of memory, Uncle P was shut out of a sold-out movie. Of course, Q and Dale (like sane people) had pre-purchased their tickets on-line. After much texting and an actual phone call; malfunctioning automated ticket machines and an aborted attempt to buy tickets to another movie at the same time (thanks to the aforementioned MTMs) K and I went for a drink and then went home. I will have other chances to see Man of Steel this week, though there's nothing like seeing a movie with one's best friends. 

While I'm still hoping that Dear D, Mike and I will see This Is the End this week as well, I came home to find a friend had sent me a link the very Bromantic video embedded below, which actually made me feel a little better. What can I say, but 'Kiss Me, Guido?'

Yes, I know there are people who can barely feed their families, let alone afford to go to a movie. Yes, there are far worse things in the world than lost blog posts and sold-out movies. I'd like to think of myself as someone who not only has compassion and empathy for others (i.e. 'Not a Jerk'). I volunteer and do charity work. I smile at everyone (even those who refuse to smile back), though I don't suffer fools, easily. 

None of that means that I don't get to pout now and then, does it? I mean, I know plenty of folks who pout regularly (in fact, almost incessantly) on various forms of social media. Am I being a 'drama queen' tonight? Maybe. Churlish? Possibly. A 'White Whiner?" Perhaps. But who isn't, at least once a while? Damn! I really wanted to see some Cavill, tonight!

More, anon.
Prospero

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After the Superhero Leaves

If you've seen Pixar's hilarious Superhero/James Bond mashup movie, The Incredibles, then you know there is always a price to pay for the destruction caused by superheroes in their pursuit of supervillians. Sure, the Super has saved hundreds of thousands of lives from the hands of a madman, but at what cost? I know you've seen the trailers for Man of Steel. I must assume you saw The Avengers and at least the trailer for Ironman 3. Just at look at all the physical property destruction wreaked upon New York and Metropolis and wherever Tony Stark and Mr. & Mrs. Incredible live. Someone has to clean that mess up.

My amazing sister and her husband flew up from Florida to specifically come help me do some things around the house for which I don't have the skills or just couldn't do by myself. Thursday morning they showed up and the BIL went right to work, repairing the gate destroyed by Sandy (I knew there was a reason I didn't throw those pieces away). After he finished that, we went to a famous DIY box-store and spent an hour picking up supplies for the other jobs we had planned on tackling. I drove home at a steady 22 MPH with three 8x6 stockade fence panels tied to my luggage rack and a new ceiling fan for my kitchen; backsplash for my bathroom and assorted hardware for several other projects. Between 2 PM and 6 PM that afternoon, the BIL had installed the backsplash and the ceiling fan; the two of us put up the stockade fence and he repaired another chain-link fence on the short side of the back lawn. We had hoped to trim some of the horrifically overgrown vegetation along the two longer sides of the neighbors' fences, but it was raining off-and-on all day, so that got shelved. Meanwhile, my sister started sorting through some of Mom's extensive jewelery collection, looking for items of actual value. Mom has a lot of 'fashion' jewelry (what used to be called 'costume' jewelry), but she also had a whole lot of fine gold and silver stuff with plenty of real gemstones. Sis, along with being an extraordinary maker of cakes, used to work as a fine jewelry retailer and is a certified Diamondtologist. After a few hours of sorting and cleaning (and Mom's say-so), she had quite a pile of stuff Mom hasn't even seen in years, let alone worn. Exhausted, we met up later at a local diner (along with the BIL's equally gold-hearted sister and her very bright and funny son) for a huge celebratory meal. 

Yesterday, while Sis went off to sell the jewelry (which netted Mom far more much-needed cash than either of us anticipated), the BIL came back and started on the trimming we'd been unable to do on Thursday. And he had that look in his eye. The one that said, "I'm bored and I'm going to finish if it kills me." Using only an electric hedge trimmer and my small handsaw, he cleared 2/3 of the long-neglected weeds; vines; small trees and assorted Evil Dead-level vegetation in my backyard before accidentally cutting my 100' extension cord (something of which I've been guilty in the past). He vowed to repair or replace it (and he did). And while I truly appreciate all the hard work he put into it, it's going to take me several weeks to clear all the stuff he cut down. I alreafdy filled two large brown-paper lawn bags and barely touched a quarter of it Trust me, I am NOT complaining! I love that he did as much as he could while here. Hell, I wish we could have done more. And while I still have a ton of work to do in the yard, it hardly seems as overwhelming as it once did. Cleaning up after the superhero is certainly better than fighting the villain alone, no matter how sore one's legs, back and shoulders are... (I should buy stock in the company that makes 'Aleve'). It sucks getting old, kids.

I don't know. Maybe Man of Steel has me all worked up. I just know that I love my siblings and everything they do for me! And I can't wait until I can go down to the F state again for a proper visit!

More, anon.
Prospero

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Be It Ever So Humble...

Well, what was intended to be a nine day vacation in Florida turned into ten when I contracted some godawful stomach ailment that had Uncle P puking in full-blown "Exorcist" mode for 5 hours on the night before I was to come home, leaving me in no shape to travel the next day. After changing my flight (a task made as painless - though hardly inexpensive - as possible by the good folks at Southwest), I spent most the rest of Wednesday sleeping in my sister's recliner, catching bits and pieces of various movies as I occasionally awoke to make another run for the bathroom. I couldn't imagine there was anything left inside me, but there was.

Honestly, i don't remember being that sick since I was a child. My Brother-in-Law had the same thing last Friday, but we attributed to a vertigo attack. When my symptoms mirrored his, exactly, we knew it was something else. By this morning, I was better, though still tired and still not very hungry. The flight home was fine and I'm hoping the worst is behind me. 

And now that I've totally over-shared and grossed you out, tomorrow I'll have happier tales of my trip to the land of oranges and alligators, including the story of the silliest Zombie Cake ever made (pictures to follow over at The Zombie Zone); an ill-fated trip to Universal Studios City Walk and outlet-shopping bargains galore!

Well, I am off to sleep in my own bed for the first time in days... Good night!

More, anon,

Prospero

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