Old News

Well, this is crappy, but slightly ambiguous, news. Just to be safe, I'm keeping an eye on my credit card accounts. If you are curious about whether your personal information may have been affected by the hack, go here and follow the instructions. This makes me feel almost as secure as those Publishers Clearing House contest entries. You may already be a winner. 

My Sis Knows Me

Yes, Martine, I love this tshirt. Pink camper, pink flamingo, yes, yes, yes! I wonder if I could pull that adorable pink camper with this. That would be perfect.

Piece of Cake! Not!

Click on the image for a larger, more readable version.

Study this chart. Because it's likely that you were lucky enough to be born here and do not have to go through the rigor and expense to become an American citizen. Don't tell anyone to get in line and stop being lazy. That's a clear indication that you are clueless. It's entirely likely that you wouldn't make the grade to immigrate here if these new rules become the standard. Guess I better get busy on winning a Nobel prize or start training for the Olympics.

I'm Still Here

The kitchen is a disaster. Even though I haven't cooked since last weekend. Oh, yes, I also have not cleaned it in nearly a week. I haven't made my bed. Nor vacuumed. Only dressed to be seen in public one day. All of my spoons have been invested in scraping paint off the damn deck. One more day of that, I'm estimating. Then minor repairs, sanding, a good vacuuming, and then, dare I say, painting shall commence! Firstly with primer, then the pretty color. You will be happy to know that I have showered semi-regularly and fed and watered Newt. Reid has pretty much been on his own as far as food is concerned. I have been eating tomatoes in everything. And I see that it's probably about time to harvest the dozen or so peaches on the tree in the backyard. Needless to say, I am pooped. I think I have enough strength left to watch a little Netflix and drink a beer. Typing is hard when your fingers are cranky. 

Sunday Morning

Here we see Newton, a prime example of a domesticated felis catus, doing his very best to pretend to ignore the houseplant in close proximity to him. He's such a handsome guy. But a terrible actor.

Scrape/Strip/Repair/Scrub/Rinse/Prime/Paint

Isn't paint removal fun? I'm behind schedule. This photo is from a couple of weeks ago and I've made considerable progress since then. But this is feeling like the neverending project. At this point, about half the paint is gone. The furniture and plants have all been moved out into the yard. Fortunately, only one board is in poor condition and must be replaced. It is waiting in the garage with the paint stripper for the stubborn spots and four gallons of paint. I really thought I'd be painting by Labor Day. Let's be honest, it's going to be labor day every day til this is done.  

Three Out of Four Isn't Bad

1. Customer service at Barnes & Noble is excellent.

2. Customer service at DSW is excellent.

3. Customer service at Capital One Visa is excellent.

4. Customer service at The New Yorker is shitty.

From the first three experiences with the helpful and courteous staff, variously on the phone and in person, you can safely assume I will happily continue to buy books, videos, and games, and buy shoes, perhaps even with my Visa card, secure in the knowledge that they behave in a way that makes me feel like an appreciated customer. A customer they would like return business from. As far as number four is concerned, I'm done, done, done. I might have stayed on as an internet reader at the right price, but their support staff is the worst. So if you're wondering whether you should give them a try at six bucks for twelve weeks, do so at your own risk. You'll never get the time back that you spend on the phone with their ineffectual customer service reps. In a weak moment I might be beguiled into purchasing a future edition of their cat calendar. But I'll be making that transaction at Barnes & Noble. So there.