I love the office!

OK, so this is only vaguely S related, but I have to tell you that I absolutely love "The Office" on NBC. If you haven't watched it, you're entirely missing out. What other show could turn a beet farmer killing his girlfriend's cat into hilarity? And a 5K fun run to support rabies? Seriously? I don't understand people who don't get this show and don't love it.

So how does this relate to S? Well, when we pulled into the driveway to watch The Office on the big screen, I looked up at the windows. They were open, and the lights were on in the living room and kitchen. Before we had the dogs out of the car he had managed to shut off the lights and duck into his room to hide. It really is too strange. Every time he hears us coming he hides. I think he really doesn't like Megan. She thinks so too, and is being less quiet about her dislike of S. Her subtelty seems inversely proportioned to how far the smell spreads from his room. Last night not only had the smell spread, but there was nastiness in the toilet. She started hypothesizing that maybe he doesn't actually know how to clean. In retaliation for his extra stinkyness she started giving him the finger behind his back. Some of this may be related to the book and inscription that I have yet to tell you about. I promise I'll get there. Next week.

It works how?

Like most people, I have an automatic drip coffee maker. It's actually a pretty nice one. You can see it here. S, neanderthal that he is, has lived on instant coffee from the microwave. You know, flavor crystals and all. Gross. So I showed him where the Dunkin Donuts coffee is, and told him to feel free to use the coffeemaker. He did, and hilarity ensued.

S: I tried the coffeemaker.
Me: What did you think?
S: What a pain in the ass.
Me: What do you mean?
S: It took forever to just make a cup of coffee for me.
Me: Huh?
S: Yeah, it took like half an hour of me pouring the water in, letting it run through, then lifting the lid, and pouring it on the grinds again, and letting it run through, and it took forever for it to get dark enough, and hot enough to drink.
Me: Are you shitting me?
S: No.
Me: (Laughing)
S: What?
Me: (Laughing with tears by this point)
S: WHAT?
Me: OK, let me show you how this "AUTOMATIC" coffee maker works.
S: OK.
Me: (Lifts lid) See this big open compartment in the back, with the numbers at different heights?
S: (quizically) Yeah?
Me: That's how far you fill it with water depending on how many cups you want it to make. Then when turn it on, it takes the water from there, up through that hose, heats it to temp, and drips it onto the coffee, making a full pot in 5 minutes or less.
S: Huh, I wondered what that part was for back there. That's pretty neat.
Me: I just want to tell you, fair warning you know, I do HAVE to tell Megan about this conversation.
S: OK.


People, I wish I was making this stuff up. It's simply amazing to me. I pray to God that he never asks me where babies come from. Maybe I should add this picture to the kitchen cabinets. (Thanks to the office sign project.)

Parents, lock up your daughters!

S is 29 or so. I think I've mentioned this. Even so, he is still in college, full time. School just started. A week or so before classes started we had the following conversation. It scared and scarred me a little.



S: Did I tell you about the tennis courts?
Me: What are you talking about.
S: I guess not.
Me: (pausing) OK, what about the tennis courts.
S: Well, sometimes, when I'm in the student center, I find myself just staring out at the tennis courts for hours on end.
Me: Brain freeze up again?
S: Huh? Oh, no, the view is just absolutely stunning.
Me: Oh, do the tennis courts look out onto the ocean?
S: No, but there are always gorgeous young girls out there.
Me: Umm ... are they students?
S: Well, they may be students who are back early, tennis team or something, or maybe it's some kind of summer tennis camp for high school kids ...
Me: You know this is vaguely pedophilic, right?
S: I'm just staring ...
Me: This must be difficult, huh? Going to school with all these girls who are too young.
S: Too young? Who said they're too young?
Me: Me!
S: Well, I *probably* wouldn't go *much* younger than 20 0r so.
Me: I feel like I should warn someone.

So yeah, if you know anyone with a daughter (I think only daughters) who attends a certain Massachusetts state college on a harbor, tell them to be on the lookout for a smelly older student who looks kinda like Sylar during his dorky glasses wearing phase and rides a Schwinn. They may recognize him from his offers to buy them beer.

Is that a banana in your pocket?

After the grossness of yesterday's post, I think we could all use something much lighter today.

I may have mentioned that S doesn't have a car. Ready, in unison "Pooooooor S!" Well, his solution to this problem was getting himself a handy dandy Schwinn. It is several miles to school, after all. There is a picture of this fine piece of machinery below. I only have one question. With the way he has the seat set up, shouldn't he call it a "Schwiiinnnggg?" Seriously. S is a boy, we think. That has to hurt.

Excuse me whilst I vomit.

I appologize in advance, for the graphic nature of this post.

Stopped by the house on Saturday. Hadn't been there in a few days and wanted to check the mail, get the bills, see if maybe I won the sweepstakes, check the smell, that sort of thing. In the course of my errands, I happened to go into the bathroom. Let's just say this was a BIG mistake.

The AC was on, so I went over to shut the window (that's a post for another day) and looked into the tub. Interestingly, there was water in the tub, about 3 inches deep or so at the drain, extending a decent length towards the back of the tub. It looked pretty dirty. I toggled the drain switch, and realized that the drain was open, and the tub just wasn't draining. I looked down at the drain, and this is when I almost lost my cookies. The drain was completely covered with hair. This wouldn't normally bother me, as I've lived with Megan for how many years? (I'm just saying, when the girl's hair is long, it can clog a tub drain.) Megan's hair is clean, however. Mixed in with the hair in the drain (plenty of which looked like ,ahem, body hair) was a hodgepodge of I don't know what. Dirt was involved. as well as what looked like maybe underwear fuzz or something. The thing that almost made me lose my cookies was the little chunks of something that were clogging some of the holes in the drain cover. They looked organic, and I shudder to think of what they could have been.

So the obvious question was, what the hell do I do about this? It's only 11 AM, so S is clearly still sleeping, if he's there, but I haven't seen him in a week, so he might be dead in his bed. I start to wrap my hand in paper towel, at which point Megan shrieks and forbids what is about to happen. (Thank God!) Then I remember that I am a diva, and insisted on installing a spa massage shower head. I call one of the settings on the shower head the "rip your nipple off" setting, because it is a centered, huge high pressure blast of water. I decide that I will try to blast the cover of the drain free from debris, and hopefully at least get the standing water out of the tub. As I'm preparing to do this, S comes out of his room (unbeknownst to me) to give Megan (also unbeknownst to me, I swear punkin!) a book, complete with inscription, that he got her. (Definitely more on this another day.) So I hear his voice, and go out in the living room to ask if he has any idea what's going on with the tub. He states that he doesn't and what do I mean? I explain the water to him and he follows me into the bathroom. He looks down and says "Gross, I'll have to clean that out. It kinda smells." HOLY SHIT! S smelled something, and knew it was bad? Something overpowered his sense of smell? Can we bottle that shit and send it off to the troops to use? He then follows that with vomit in my mouth moment number 2. "Hmm ... it must have been there for a couple of days. I didn't shower yesterday. Do you have any draino?" Through my wretches I explain that draino won't pick up all of his grody hair from on top of the drain. It's designed for hair inside of the drain. His response was "Oh, well, we have some of that scrubbing bubbles crap someplace, right? I'll clean it later."

So, long story short, I blasted the drain with the hose a few times, waited for it to reclog, and did it again until the water subsided. I then sprayed mold and mildew killer all over, got out as many cleaning supplies as I could find, left them all on the counter, and got the hell out of the house. I waited more than 24 hours before returning. The tub was clean, but the memory is burned into my brain.

Aren't you glad I spared you my story about what the toilet was like yesterday, after I hadn't been there to use it in a week?

Are all sports inherently gay?

I think there must be an inherent gayness in sports. I went to the Red Sox / Blue Jays game at Fenway Park last night. Excellent game, the Sox won. Beckett and Halladay both pitched extremely well. I was struck by this sight on the field before the game.

Now, obviously that is the trainer stretching out one of the Blue Jays. It was quite a sight when he was working on big Frank Thomas (who almost killed me with a foul ball) right there. As much as I know that's what he was doing, at times it almost looked like a gay porn video. The world of sports is famous for naked men in locker rooms, butt slapping, and "working each other out." Isn't it strange that there have been almost no openly gay athletes? My guess is that sports stars, knowing the inherent gayness of their rituals, act out as vehemently homophobic, just to feel more secure in their masculinity. You'd think scoring touchdowns and hitting homeruns would do that for them, but guess not. You know what they say. 1 in 10.

I know, I know. No mention of S here. Sorry. Haven't seen him since my last post.

Let's Talk About E. Coli

S has some interesting ideas about food prep. He loves to eat browned hamburger. He often mixes it with mac and cheese or potatoes. That's it. ground beef and potato mixed together. He pretty much lives on it. He loves browned hamburger so much that he waits until it turns brown or gray to cook it. I took this picture on Aug 29, which is also the expiration date no the package. This was red when he put it in the fridge back on the 24th or so, but by this point it had turned a nice gray/brown. The slight redness is actually little beads of hamburger juice in the package. The meat itself is all gray. He finally cooked it on Sept 2. Now it is in the fridge, cooked, waiting for him to nuke it and eat it.

This makes me think a few things.

1. GROSS!
2. How hasn't he died?
3. When did I last clean the fridge?
4. Does this contribute to the smell?

Let me just say that I'm thrilled that classes start this week. Megan stuck her nose in his room the other day, and it's clear from the utter grossness of the stench that he is spending too much time in the house.

A Follow Up ...

We got to experience another splish-splash moment yesterday. Meg and I were sitting on the couch watching an episode of Monk on Demand. (I know, we lead such exciting lives.) S came out of his room, towel around his neck, and said "Anyone need to get in the bathroom?" At the moment neither of us did. By the time the episode of Monk was over, and we had sorted the recycling, had a snack, remodeled the kitchen, organized the kitchen closet, and finished several days worth of dishes, Megan needed to pee. Badly. This would have been OK, except for one thing. S was still in the bathroom.

This seriously had to be over an hour. What can he be doing in there? He was still in there when we eventually left, and I drove her to Dunkin Donuts to pee. The water only ran off and on this time, with no discernible pattern, so it's not like he was on the can for the whole time. I just don't get it. Someone help. I think Megan has had it. She asked that from now on every single time he asks his fateful question I make sure she says yes as a "prophylactic measure." She's also decided "he's just a fucking weirdo."