Share Post:

Share on facebook
Share on linkedin
Share on twitter
Share on pinterest
Share on email

In one foul swoop my plans were wrecked by gross incompetence.

Really, it was a function of space time. I’ve got other places to spend my incompetence. The house got smaller as the kid got older and the pandemic got isolating-er and work became house and house became work.

Now I’m looking at fascia boards (2×4 boards on end, in this case) with peeling paint and soffits with dry rot.

Some of the fascia boards are actually detaching themselves with grim resolve, then leaping for Mother Earth in blatant attempts at self-destruction/possible murder depending on if I like who’s standing underneath them.

I’ve figured out what I need to do to fix this. Here’s my secret recipe for making the most daunting home improvement challenge a snap:

  • (One) half kilo Columbian cocaine
  • (6) nails
  • 14 Xanax
  • Some of that stuff in the red and yellow can that you spray in cracks then it fills the crack.
  • (1) case of Miller Lite®
  • Safety glasses

Your wife should be gone when the cocaine comes, I’ve learned.

I could fix this, the challenge is that for some reason everything on the roof is high up.

I successfully volunteered for the Fire Service and didn’t hurt/kill anyone I know of despite my extremely reserved nature toward anything of substantial height. Let’s call it over fifteen feet. Judging by your facial expression I’m embarrassed. I meant 115.

Again, I can do this, but my wife won’t let me. Why can’t she not let me do normal stuff like (a.) cocaine (b.) go on man-cation (c.) carouse at bars with friends (d.) not call (e.) eat pan pizza for for two meals in a row?

Who is this woman, preventing me from drastically improving our domicile much to the envy of the neighborhood, possibly?

I guess it’s good that for now she doesn’t want me to fall and die and subsequently generate a large life insurance claim.

The contractor just gave me a bid. EIGHT GRAND. EIGHT.

That’s like $575,000.00 an hour. I want that job! Eight grand.

So my best bet is to defy my wife right?

Ok, so my best bet is to call more people until I find someone who can do it for 25% of eight grand, whatever that is.

Maybe once they meet me they’ll want to do the work for less than $575,000.00/hour because I’m so charming and fun to talk to and I bring them lemonade spiked with cocaine.

If you can make a referral, please do.

More Updates

Beware of Physics and Esprit de Corps

The original conversation went something like this: Lieutenant: “He said he never makes mistakes, they’re just misunderstandings.” Chief: “What were you doing in the sewage

Subscribe to our newsletter or we'll totally freak out.

Engaging irreverence, occasional coherence, often pointed, mixed with enough indelicate humor as to create a want, a craving for more.