Tuesday, June 1, 2010

I attempted fabulosity this weekend. Mediocrity (and porn) ensued: The Memorial Day edition.

This weekend was a three day weekend so that means about ¾ more fabulosity (I’m not good at math) that I had planned to happen at the ModernSauce ranch.  Unfortunately it didn’t start out too good.  I opened my front door on Friday to check the mail and saw this little guy:
I'm guessing he fell out of my storm door but I don’t know where the hell he came from or how to put him back where he belongs.  Where is your home dammit?  I was laying on my porch trying to jam this thing back somewhere when I realized that the ice cream truck that tortures my neighborhood every summer was driving by really really slow.   Driving slower than normal around my corner because he was, in fact, staring at me sprawled face-down ass-up on my porch.  At least we know he’s not a pedophile.  But now I feel turned on violated every time I hear that damn circus music.  [MS sidebar: he was probably going really really slow because he was high but at least in my version it makes me look like an accidental sexy person.]  

Since I gave up couldn’t figure out where the pin was supposed to go I put it the special aMazing ModernSauce Jar of all Manner of Metal Materials.  (I like alliteration.)  It’s where old hardware goes to die around here that I can’t seem to throw it away because I might need that rusty screw or Bicentennial-inspired eagle light switch plate one day.  That’s a piece of American history.
See ya in three years metal thing!
Back to work.  I wanted to do a lot of small easy things this weekend, you know, to honor the troops. Project #1 – new handle for my nightstand.  No reason.  Just found a little gem (read: crappy piece of shit) at the elegant wonderland known as World Market which I knew would fit exactly my nightstand which also happened to come from the same classy warehouse a few years ago.  
I used some forethought this time and actually measured the distance between the screw holes and the screws of the new handle.  Score!  Gawd I'm good.  However what I didn't measure was the distance between the ends of the new handle screws vs. the distance between the BASE of the screws.  About 1/8 inch off.  Fuckin A.  But I will not be defeated!!! (also I scratched the "wood" already so I had to follow thru...) So I pushed and pounded and cussed and scraped until this:

Fuck. Me.  Apparently my new superhuman strength in my one arm from working out with the drill so much has made me a beast and I broke the new handle.  Let's pretend that it's not some piece of shit I bought for $3 and instead it's my lone raging bicep that's the problem.  Now a normal person probably would have pulled the handle out and exchanged it at the store for a new one but that's for pussies without imagination.  Also I couldn't pull the handle back out because I had jammed it in so hard to the drawer.  Enter the super glue.

No I don't know why it's so yellow.  Let's just call it ambiance.
The end result.  It's different.  I wouldn't call it better... But it looks like my handle is SUPPOSED to bring out the tiny golden details in my headboard.  Exactly my plan all along.

So two hours later I could begin my main focus for the weekend which was to start patching some holes in my bathroom wall.  After the removal of some super chic vom-inducing 80's wallpaper (including the asbestos kind) these holes were uncovered:
Keep smiling fucker.
What the fuck kind of shower curtain rod needs holes like this?  Gawd I do not understand these people!  But then I remembered – the previous owners were total sex freaks (I made that up) so I think this was actually an ‘omigod’ bar for all their steamy shower sessions.  Adding extra support was just smart thinking.  Now, I don’t have a normal tub – it’s an old 4’ square Cinderella tub and can probably fit two people (maybe three if you angle correctly) so I’m sure there was some definite soapy group rubdowns that needed a handle for support.
Like this but white. From retro renovation.
The previous inhabitants (not the raccoons) owned the MS ranch for probably 35 years so they had plenty of time to customize the house to their own, uh… predilections.  My first clue that they were freaks was the back patio covered in Astroturf where the outline of an old hot tub was faintly visible.  Not that big of a deal – it was probably installed in the 70’s and who DIDN’T have Astroturf and a hot tub back then?!  But THESE people installed the only privacy fence on my block, had locking gates and ran electricity and CABLE lines to the hot tub vicinity. Mmmhhh hhhmmmmm

At one point they enclosed the carport as some sort of rec room which is labeled as the “train room” on the electric panel.   
See #2.  Mmmhhhh hhhmmmmm.
I don’t think they were talkin toy trains y'all!!!  (they were)  The “train room” has some windows placed really high so you can’t see in or out and the floor is vinyl.  For easy clean-up I’m sure.  There was also a plastic fireplace that you plug into the wall with a cardboard "brick" surround.  It brings that sophisticated and romantic atmosphere when you’re having the bi-weekly neighborhood orgy.  Sessy.  There’s a window that overlooks the “train room” from a secret cedar closet in one of the bedrooms.  For the neighbors who liked to watch.  During the floor-to-ceiling sterilization that happened when I moved in one of my friends was cleaning the closet in the “train room” and found this:
The bottom corner says 1975.  It's an antique!
Mmmmhhh hhhhmmmm.  I won't show you the inside because this is a family blog but let's just say there are a lot of beaver references.  I just leave this on the coffee table when people come over.  It’s a good conversation starter.
Here’s a picture of the previous owner that we also found in that closet:
Yep. That's what part of my kitchen looked like in the 80's I think.
Look at this totally nice grandpa skeezy perv.  I believe he died in the house at some time and totally haunted the place for about a year after I moved in – I would see him walking up and down the hall sometimes.  I think he liked to watch me sleep.  Mmmhhhh hhhmmmm.  Even his ghost was horny.

Another sex freak clue – I received this old lady catalog for months after I moved in that had the usual circulation socks, rain caps and ‘world’s best grandma’ mugs.  But the last three pages of this catalog always had tons of personal "massager" devices.  Vom.  But still mmmmhhh hhhmmmm.  I think I've proven my point.
Uh oh – I totally forgot what I was supposed to be doing this weekend… 

Oh yeah, Gawd bless the troops.


  1. That grandpa dude is totally coming back to haunt you now that you've let his (back-room) secrets out - the other ghosts are going to look at him funny so what else is he going to do now? Also, the concrete on your front porch looks like an aerial of a salt lake. Thanks for the back at work laugh this morning.

  2. I believe our DIY skills are approximately the same level. Thanks for the laugh!

  3. @bob yeah ghosts are so judgey. My porch is actually made of flagstone not concrete. I guess.. where's Rich?

    @Kim I use the word "skill" loosely. But we can commiserate together! Thanks for reading AND commenting too! Sometimes the comments turn into a real sausage fest around here... ; )

  4. At risk of tipping the sausage-fest balance (hey, it's not directly my fault: I was born like that - mind your manners!), I will weigh in on the spectacle of your porch view. No, no, not the face-down, etc. presentation - I think that speaks for itself. I mean the material composition of the porch surface, embellished or otherwise. I will concur (from a thousand expert miles away) that this image depicts weathered flagstone with mortared joints and a metal thingy. From the scale of the mortar joint (and the aMazing jar of Mundane Missing Minutiae) and the wear patterns on said thingy, I postulate that it is an aluminum hinge pin. Usually captive on a screen door installation, obviously this particular pin has realized its yearnings to BREAK FREE FROM DOOR CAPTIVITY, only to plummet on to hard, cold stone and then into a glass prison along with other errant hardware. So fraught with possibilities, yet ending so tragically.

    But it does look like a salt lake (at least the ones I have seen in picture books).

    Now I need an ice cream.

  5. Having actually seen said porch I agree with Rich is could be flagstone or Tennessee Fieldstone. Plus you run across it in many different houses in Chattavegas. But there are quarries that have been around since the 50s in Crossville TN, so it could have come from there. But definitely not concrete they age differently and the mortar blow out would be different if it was concrete.

    Oh I don't think you are making up the crazy sex house. Having walked through this house when you first moved in and shortly after the found porn its oh so obvious. Wait until you get to the dinning room!

  6. @Rich Thank you for enlightening me to the tragic tale of my hinge pin. Now it sits in the Metal Jar of purgatory because suicide never get you to heaven. duh. Stupid selfish hinge pin.

    @Shannon haha! The dining room - bow chicka bow wow! I need to post the before and after pics of that gawdawful space. ooh lawd! Thanks for the stone lesson! Probably asking for your help in preserving it would be too late now. ; )

  7. I think Richard has mortared joints and a metal thingie! I'll have to ask him someday.