Tag Archives: cleaning

Adventures Of An Idiot Gnome

16 Jan

image

Office is slow again today. We’ve run outta things for Idiot Gnome to do…so WHS Pimp has launched her on the outter yard to pick up scraps and clear nails.

…Meanwhile, we sit in  the lobby having totally inappropriate office conversations in between incoming phone calls.

…Idiot Gnome has only been doing this for about 40 minutes, and has already been in here four times to amend her homemade “hazmat suit,” guarding her against the evils of dirt and stuff.

It begins with a 90 lb 5’2″ person, layered in three hoodies, a puffy snow coat, blue rubber gloves…inside of shop gloves, tennies, and optioned goggles…(Which we keep on hand for welding projects.)

…She now weighs in at approximately 125 pounds, and is clearly having issues with the bulk, waddling around like that kid from “A Christmas Story” movie, whose so puffed out, he can’t put his arms down.

From time to time, we clock her through the lobby windows.

Her return trips of outfit amendments are mostly based on the fact that her body is too small to fill the capacity of our average-sized protection aids.

…The rubber gloves (identical to the ones your Dentist uses) are baggy and at least two sizes too big…so her fingers have around an inch of excess rubber, unfilled and floating at each end. These, she’s tried to cram into the work gloves, to help fill THEM with some sort of grip-traction…as they were made for a small man, which means she might as well be wearing oven mitts for all the function help they give her.

…Watching her trying to pick up a nail off the gravel (for instance), is sort of amusing.

…So is the clearing out of the back of WHS Pimp’s truck bed.

Full of cast-off scrap wood from our latest large build, he has her categorizing the contents into separate piles for shimmy and leveling use.

…Occasionally, a larger piece of siding becomes excavated, as just a moment ago, which he’s been watching off and on out the window, as I deal with several emails.

Eventually, he begins to chuckle.

Me: (From my office.) What’s up?

WHS Pimp: She’s just found an OSB sheet.

Me: Yeah?

WHS Pimp: She’s trying to figure out how to get it out of the truck.

(He giggles again.)

WHS Pimp: She’s sorta trying to bench press one end up, and grip it at an angle.

Me: Like she’s trying for over-the-head?

WHS Pimp: God, I hope not. First all, she can’t see anything. All those hoodie layers have like fused her neck range-of-motion to less than a Batman cowl. Second, if that thing gets any wind, it’ll catch lift, and whip her right up…like Mary Poppins…

(I start to chuckle.)

WHS Pimp: …Only a LOT more violent…

(I start to laugh.)

WHS Pimp: …Just a tiny rag doll, flung in the wind…

(I laugh harder.)

WHS Pimp: …Course she wouldn’t be prepared for it, either. And those gloves are EASILY ten or twelve sizes too big…so we know there’s like zero grip there…

(I contract my belly, hunching over.)

WHS Pimp: …Which, with the wind-shift against the wood weight, will flick the gloves right off of her, somewhere mid-lift, but her body inertia will just keep going…

(I start to cry)

WHS Pimp: …And she’ll have about three good seconds of total air, like a tiny flying Michelin Man float, cut adrift…

(I’m gasping for air.)

WHS Pimp: …And, where with other people that time would be filled with their life flashing before their eyes, thinking, “OH HOLY SHIT, I’M GONNA DIE!”…?

(Still Gasping.)

WHS Pimp: …She, instead, would have this totally amazing moment of complete innocent wonder. Then at some point: fall.

(Gasp. Cry. Gasp.)

WHS Pimp: …And we’ll run out there, and have to wake her up, making sure she isn’t dead or something. And you know what will be the first thing she’ll say?

Me: (Ugly-cry-laughing.) “You guys! I can fly!”

WHS Pimp: Exactly.

~D

Snippets

15 May

image

Writing from the Farty Chair

…The “Importance of Being Earnest” soundtrack is in the background…cuz it’s fun, and strangely eclectic…purchased off Amazon MP3 app for the purpose of inspiring hair creations yesterday. 

The costumer requested I arrive with something quasi-styled so as to play with the hat placements during my fitting.

…The California Cousin and his lady have just vanished with Ma, back to her house, and I’ve time for a quick write-up before bed.

Random associations of the day, coming back to me.

…What to write about?

California Cousins grow up from kiddom, and become super interesting, intelligent human beings. Even in our family. 

…Had that one customer who talks to you like they were the dictator of a small third-world nation, whom you have just been annexed in with via “you work for me now” association.  I let them have their five minutes of glory…and by “let them have” I mean, “continuously reiterated the requirements for product prep with zero lee-way as to how much extra free work we were planning on doing for her.”  The call itself (I’ve been told) lasted another 48 minutes.  I wasn’t there at the time, as I had evilly put her on hold and passed her onto the WHS Pimp for “materials and hardware spec” info. 

It was mean. 

I know. 

…And he had even just bought me coffee and everything. 

…Which just shows you the kind of people we are, I suppose. I am the one who would buy or bribe their way onto the lifeboat, and He is the one who would probl’y go down with the ship, in honor of the “women and children” rule.

You know what, we’ve already discussed how he’s a better person than me, and I don’t think it’s kosher for you to just always bring it up, every time I do the tiniest slightly dickish thing!

…I prob’ly owe him some beer or something…

Cleaned house after work.

…Gave Daphne and Niles a much-needed bath, and cleaned up the kitchen.  New smelly thing plugged into the wall, accidentally set on ballistic level and left there to try and counteract the mass-chemical-cleaning smell. 

It worked. 

Sort of.

…Even though my nose hairs are still kinda tingling from the residual warring battle.

Windows all closed up since the last storm. 

Heater back on again.

A bit of a bummer, actually.

…Also, Harriet had just finally gotten all the bird poop washed off of her before it all began.  In keeping with every car-owner fate, ever.

Off book for the second tea scene. 

…Three more to go.

Rehearsal tomorrow and Friday, then off for the weekend.

…Must remember to buy more TP.

…And milk.

I may have had one 20 oz black coffee too many, today.  While it helped with the sheer exhaustion and general anxiety pit-of-despair I had worked myself into the evening before, I don’t think it’ll be so great at this particular point. 

…Or maybe I’ll be passed out within 50 seconds of my head hitting the pillow. 

…It is almost impossible to know.

I am, however, willing to undertake the experiment, and give it a shot.

Night, all.

~D

Death By Chemicals

26 Nov

image

Corporate is coming again on Wednesday. 

…Because I won’t be at the office tomorrow (due to a student matinee of the show), I had to fit in all my cleaning today. But then Boss decided it would be good to shampoo the carpets at the same time…and it’s cold out…so all the windows and doors are shut, and the heater is on. Between the bathroom, lobby, and my office, I’ve been accidentally snorfing a shit-ton of cooked chemicals for a little over three hours now, and I feel awful.

…My throat is rasping, I’ve caught this honking bronchial cough that started back in the shop-vac stage of cleanup and has gotten worse with the heated carpet chemical steam…my eyes are watering and I keep sneezing.

…In short: I am slowly being poisoned right now, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it but keep walking outside and hacking up my lungs.  Why EVERYTHING has to be feast or famine in this place just never makes sense to me.

…Hold on.  Gotta go outside again. Giant coughing fit.

***

(From the upper warehouse.)

All the dudes are gone for the day, and I’m huddled in the freezing warehouse under the clamp-light where the building schedule is posted.  Our army of a Corporate-prep  team has done wonders out here with the stacking and organizing…our new WHS kid is being broken in via baptism through fire, and I am 45 minutes from chemical freedom.

Home.

…Take a shower to get the gunk off and do a lot of deep steam-breathing to help clean out all m’wind pipes…then get ready for The BFF and Fella to pick me up for a Tapas night at the In-Laws. The last “hurrah” together, before The BFF sets sail back to movie-land…and I kick it into overdrive workin’ two shows at the same time, til we close one of ’em, end of next weekend.

Tis the season to work your tail off.

~D

Conversations In A Day

11 Sep

image

The Cuz has arrived, and thus begins Vacation Part Two:

(First crack of morning.)

Puff: (On the phone.) Where you at?
Me: (In bed.) Huh?
Puff: I’m here!
Me: Wuh?
Puff: I’ve landed.
Me: (Bolting upright.) OH HOLY SHIT-FUCK!  It was 9:45 A.M.?!?!
Puff: Uh. Yeah.
Me: I AM THE WORST!  I thought it was 9:45 P.M..
Puff: Nope.
Me: I will TOTALLY be there in 20 minutes…I SWEAR!

***

Me: (With a toothbrush in mouth while making bed) Oh God! I screwed it all up!
Ma: (On phone, possibly still sleeping.) Hello?
Me: He’s HERE! He’s here already!
Ma: Who is this…?
Me: —I’m twelve hours behind, and I haven’t even gotten up yet hardly.
Ma: What’s happening?
Me: –I even asked him like yesterday to confirm. 9:45 he said. 9:45. Cuz like an idiot I kept thinking it was night and all.
Ma: Is this a wrong number?
Me: MOM! IT’S ME! PUFF IS HERE! I NEED YOU TO FOCUS FOR A SECOND!
(A gaging, choking sound.)
Me: I almost died just then. Fucking toothbrush…
Ma: Puff is HERE, did you say?
Me: YES! YES!
Ma: Well, GO GET HIM! What are you talking to me for?!
Me: I just freaked out, is all. I’m going! I have to–I’m going…!

***

(In car.)

Me: (via text.) OMG, I am the worst ever!! Let the ridiculous “me” stories begin. I am totally on the road right now, yelling at this old lady driving a boat, going negative ten miles an hour in front of me. My road rage is unparalleled with moroseness for not only making a 12 hour difference fuck up, but also being mean to a woman who already lived through eight wars and is prob’ly using a booster seat just to see over the steering wheel…
Puff: …No stress, I’m having some breakfast.
Me: …So you have stories to share already. Awesome. This will never be boring, Puff.
(Picture of breakfast arrives with a ding.)
Me: Hella. P.S. I need coffee like woa. And I look like I just rolled outta bed. Cuz I totally did. If you wanna pretend you don’t know me, I can hire a hot dude to meet you at the terminal and bring you to me. It won’t hurt my feelings.
Puff: … I’m at the Alaska arrivals area. Sitting on a bench.
Me: Grabbing parking now.
Puff: Where do I need to be?
Me: Wait. What airline?
Puff: A-las-ka. I’m right outside on the lower level…

***

(Still in car, calling on the phone.)

Me: So…I’m in the garage now.
Puff: Do I need to be in the garage?
Me: No, I’ll come to you. Only I’m…I’m looping here…
Puff: Huh?
Me: Looping. I’m looping to get out. Then I need to circle around.
Puff: What are you driving?
Me: A PT Cruiser.
(I take the totally wrong lane and end up in “departures.”)
Me: (Totally lying.) Um. I’m in a holding pattern. Almost there.
Puff: Heheh. “Pattern is full, Ghost Rider…”

***

(After another go-round on the terminal attack, and seeing him on the curb.)

Me: Dude. I’m an asshole, and I’m totally sorry.
Puff: It’s all good, cuz.
Me: Also, you know all those things that you wait to do until the day people come, when you are on vacation and just let shit go?
Puff: (silence.)
Me: …Like cleaning your car, doing dishes, dying your hair, sweeping the house, spraying toxic chemicals all over the bathroom and giving your fish a bath? Yeah. None of that was done. So I guess it’s good you’re family.
Puff: Yeah.
Me: I mean, I still need to get my nails “did” for shits sake.
Puff: I’ll go too! I need a pedi anyway.
Me: See. This is why I love you.

***

(On a short walk to coffee shop.)

Me:…And this is our park. And this is our gas station. And that is where The BFF lives. And this is our homeless man. And that is our Yuppie market…
Puff: –When do I get to meet her?
Me: Who?
Puff: The BFF.
Me: She gets off at five-ish, so maybe Tuesday? I dunno. But it’s happening for sure. You’ll love her. She’s like me. Only not at all. And way more fierce.
Puff: I know. I read your blogs.

***

(In Tacoma Boys.)

Puff: Psst…
Me: (In another world smelling a grape.)
Puff: Psssst. Pssst.
Me: (Wondering which onion is the “good” one.)
Puff: Hey!
Me: Huh?
Puff: (Whispering.) The “ginger.” Two o’clock.
(I look. I wrinkle my nose and shake my head.)
Puff: Not for YOU, for ME. (Idiot.)
Me: Ohhh. Really?
Puff: And he’s here with his gramma. Bonus points.
Me: “The good grandson.”
Puff: ‘Xactly.
Me: A “ginger.”
Puff: Definitely.
Me: Huh.

***

(Gigantic crash at base of stairs.)

Me: Sunofabiscutcruncher!!!!
Puff: (From the kitchen.) Are you dead?
Me: The damn paper bag broke. I just shattered an entire bottle of red.
Puff: (Now from landing.) Where?
(I move aside and show the kinda blood spill that only makes it on C.S.I.)
Puff: Oops. Want help?
Me: No. I’ll just lick it up. Its fine.
(Beat.)
Puff: You’re kidding. Right?
(Beat.)
Me: Sure. Okay. I’ll go get some paper towels. Be right back.

***

Puff: (From sink.) Um…
Me: Are you washing the bananas?
Puff: Wine spill. And you might wanna watch for glass splinters. I got one.
(He shows his finger, which is leaking the identical color of red as the wine bottle did.)
Me: That is exactly the same color as the wine.
Puff: Yeah.
Me: …Maybe we should toss the bananas.

***

The BFF: (On phone.) You called?
Me: Yeah. Come meet Puff and help cook Fajitas.
The BFF: I’m…(I accidentally blank out and have no idea what she says right here. I think I was putting junk away in the crisper.) …and then I will, at around 9:30. Okay?
Me: That’s P.M., right?
The BFF: Yes.
Me: …Just making sure.
The BFF: I’ll buzz you.

***

(While watching “Snow White and the Huntsman,” both basically ignoring it as we are on our computers separately…he to FB, me to blog.)

Puff: She. Never. Closes. Her. Mouth.
Me: My god. It’s all I’ve been thinking

~D

%d bloggers like this: