Thursday, April 22, 2010

You know how I know you're gay?

Last week...or maybe the week before (I have no idea, time is meaningless to me)...we had a new furnace installed.  Our old one was original (i.e., almost the same vintage as me), and we're pretty sure it wasn't built for a three story house.  The furnace was on the second floor, so the second floor was the proper temperature, but the ground floor was like a meat locker, and the top floor (our bedroom) was no picnic either.  I guess that's what happens when people who are only out to make a buck have a bunch of Mexicans build your place, but I digress...

After another winter of being 'ice-toed' by The Sciencette (fellas, you know what I mean), we decided to use our postdoc wealth to get a new furnace that would actually function on all three stories.  For the tree huggers out there: yes, it's energy efficient, and you better believe Obama will be giving us our $1500 at tax time next year.  Kill you expensive efficiency!

Anywho, the company that we bought the furnace from refused to work on the weekend, despite the fact that the salesman said they would, so I had to stay at home to let the installers do their thing.  Two guys showed up (an hour late), and I swear to God that they didn't know each other's names.  That builds a lot of confidence, right?  Well, it doesn't matter, because for this post, I'm just going to call the Miller and Krause.

I was getting some work done on the computer while these guys were furnacing it up, and I couldn't help but overhear some of what they said down the hall from me.  Most of it was bitching about the economy and their boss, the same conversation that happens a million times a day all over the world, and then I heard this gem:
Miller: "Measure twice, cut once."
Krause: "I cut it three times already, and it's still too short."
These types of shenanigans happened for a while, and then they turned on the radio to listen to some Donnie Iris n'at.  Krause was really getting into it because he started doing some karaoke, and then the following back and forth happened:
Miller: "You can repeat the lyrics, but for God's sake, don't try to sing them."
Krause: "I'm no American Idol, huh?"
Miller: "You probably watch that shit don't you?"
Krause: "Nah, no way.  I hate that crap."
Miller: "My wife always watches it."
Krause: "Yeah, my wife and daughter have it on the TV all the time...but you know what?  When they have it on, I get sucked in; I can't stop watching it..."
Miller: "Yeah...me too..."
So it turns out that the two manly men installing the hell out of the furnace are actually American Idol fans, and they bonded over it in our utility room.  They spent the next few minutes feeling each other out concerning various aspects of the show, ostensibly to gauge just how much they could gush over their love for reality TV. And then I think they realized how gay things were getting, because the conversation abruptly ended with this:
Miller: "You know the one thing I don't get about the show?  Ryan Seacrest."
Krause: "Yeah, where the hell did he come from?"
Miller: "He doesn't do anything and makes a ton of money."
Krause: "...[sounds of tools, grumbling]...Dick Clark wannabe asshole..."
Well, even if the dudes installing the furnace are pillow biters, at least they hate Ryan Seacrest.  I hate him too, but not because he's on American Idol...well, at least not entirely.  I hate him because he should have forced Dick Clark out of New Year's Rocking Eve after his first horrible post-stroke attempt at the countdown instead of letting him zombie-slur his way into the new year for however long it's been now.  I can't watch it; he can't even keep up with the numbers let alone pronounce them.  Can't an angry Islamic country send over a jihadist to clean this mess up for us?  Throw me a bone Osama!

Friday, April 16, 2010

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Breaking News

Breaking News: Plaxico Burress accidently shoots Santonio Holmes in the leg at a night club causing Mr. Holmes to throw a drink in Ben Roethlisberger's face which caused Mr. Roethlisberger to accidentally grope the nearest waitress. The sound of the shot startled Jeff Reed, causing him to accidentally smash the men's room towel dispenser, startling Matt Spaeth who then lost control of his bladder......