A day in the life of Pi

I've been raking my mind. what do I write about? Surely something entertaining has happened recently. This weekend was pretty good. The names of the characters have been changed to protect their identity.

I got a panicked phone call from a heavily medicated man on Saturday pleading for my assistance. I didn't hear either phone ring because I was outside on my little deck reading to the soothing sounds of vehicles traveling at mach speeds down the road behind my property. By the time I called back the man was in hysterics. So I sauntered on over to see what damage the pool had suffered. There below the murky waters was a reed growing through the liner. We discussed what we should do, which was nothing. until Sunday.
Fast forward to Sunday.
Groggy man calls me at 11ish and asks what my plans were for the day etc...So I sauntered on over (again) to find Mary and Sue out talking (actually yelling) in the front yard. The cicada's are monstrous, they sound very similar to a horror movie's soundtrack.
The man (Mary's husband). is still in bed. Mary tells me I can not walk on any deck in the backyard because she has stained. "walk around and get in the pool via the sturdy chair by the filter." oooohhhhk. I rouse the man only to find Man jr. (Mary and man's oldest son) also in the house.

This is the plan:

Man: You are going to get in the pool with a razor blade and cut...
Mary: I think you should use the pruners you could cut farther down on the plant
Man: Mary...a razor will cut closer
Mary: Man...he could use them to cut at an angel...(she demonstrates in the air with fingers)
Me: I don't want to use the razor. The likelihood of cutting myself is higher with a RAZOR.
Man: Ok...where's the shears?
Mary: In the shed...(Man starts to walk towards the shed). DON'T WALK ON THE DECK DAN, I JUST STAINED. IT NEEDS 48 HOURS (she pushes glasses on her face whilst Man figures clever way to enter shed).

Man returns with 2 (two) pairs of goggles, a razor blade, screwdriver (which is really an ice pick) and pruners. Meanwhile Mary is filling up a syringe with weed-be-gone.

Man: Ok. so. after you cut the stem you need to use the "screwdriver" to make a hole in the center of the plant. Then inject weed-be-gone into it and put the patch over hole.
Me: Isn't weed-be-gone POISONOUS?
Mary: no, it blocks the plant from producing chlorophyll
Me: isn't that still poison? do you want that in your pool? Why do I want to be underwater with that floating around?
Mary: Don't be such a baby I'll inject it myself.
Man: Does that sound good to you?
Man Jr: The cicadas really stink back here.
Mary: That's dog poop
Man Jr: That is the smell of insects rotting

Gratuitous comment: It was dog shit. and lots of it.

Man: Ok, does that make sense Steve? You ready?

*splash* *splash* Me and Mary are now in the pool with..pruners, "screwdriver", syringe of poison, brick, and pool patch. Mary has taken off her glasses to put on the goggles. I know this will be dangerous. Like giving Helen Keller the job of handing the doctor surgical instruments. I just envisioned a sopping wet car ride to the emergency room trying to explain to the doctor why I had and ice pick rubber cemented to my back and why I can't see past the weed-be-gone in my left eye.

Mary: Do not cut it like Man told you to cut it at an angle, like this (she demonstrates, with pruners, by slicing the air neatly). Man Jr. hand me the roots of that plant I want to show Steve what he is dealing with here.
Man Jr: Where, what roots?
Mary: The ones by your RIGHT hand. RIGHT hand.

Man Jr. is looking cluelessly at the clump of dirt and roots on the ground unable to locate them. Man Sr. has now joined in the search. Man brings the sample to the pool and I study carefully.

Man Jr: Oh you meant ruts!

Everyone rolls there eyes, or maybe it was just me. I couldn't really see I was wearing a pair of goggles.

Mary: (whispering) do it my way, it will work better.

The operation ensues successfully, I hold my breath and manage to keep all surgical tools out of my mouth but worry about their affect on my hair and ears.

I feel the same way

really i do. i have the same dejected feeling when i pull up Creative Gesticulations and see the SAME ENTRY. I mean really what is my deal? Where do i start?
What humourous insights does this east coast guy have to offer the loving readers this week? Work is work. I am remodeling 2 bathrooms. at the same time. now when i say remodel i'm sure you get the impression that it is an on-going project. This is not the case. In all actuallity i disembowled the two latrines before Christmas and haven't had the time (lie) or the energy (TRUTH) to tackle this foreboding task. There is a renewed sense of urgency now that i am thinking of packing up and moving up the street. No where fancy just a different house. "Why do i need to move?" Well i haven't had any real back pain in a long time and i love the look on my the face's of my "friends" as i implore for their help.
I once lived in a little town 40 miles north to the little burb i now call "home." I had a one bedroom apartment, one. It took 3 trucks to move all that crap. Not to mention i lived on the forth floor of a building with NO ELEVATOR. My brick collection was a BEAST to carry. After that exciting event i decided NEVER to move again and now i find myself changing my mind...i need a hobby that dosen't inlcude spending money. I figure i have the gym ($35 a month) and i have reading (anywhere between $50-$100 per month). By the by check out the new book. The list of new hobbies includes the following: retiring, skydiving, hang gliding, scrap metal collections or Swedish. Swedish and skydiving are neck and neck. I might luck out and get a Scandanavian who likes to strap kites to his back. Wouldn't that be serendipitous?

i feel invisible when i wear sunglasses

No really, i have a pair of sunglasses that makes me unoticable, which says a lot if you've ever seen me. Today started out all sun, the kind of day a person might spend sitting in a wicker chair reading or playing cricket. In order to "style" my hair i must use copious amount of product. I apply and wait for a few minutes for it to harden and i am good to go to work or ride a motorcyle without a helmet. Adding sunglasses to the elment has proven to be quite difficult. I continually put them on top of my head and forget and go throughout my day meeting, greeting and presenting the various aspects of my job. I wonder why people say "hey dude" or "how's it hangin?" I immediately remove the distraction and press forward. Placing the sunglasses back on my face has proven equally hazerdous. My eye lashes now stick to the lenses and it is quite painful to take them off which makes me one of those people who walks inside with uv-protective eyewear. now for a completely unrelated topic.
Sudden. Downpour. Strands local hunk (me) under awning until unforcasted hurricane passes. Kids are cute, from a distant and when they can be returned to thier rightful owners. There is one exception to this rule who can have whatever her parents won't let her have. So a lovely french family was walking down the streets of DC after this torrential downpour which has left me resembling either a mongoose or otter. I am following this family while i hear them say "J'est sui mon ami" or "un mome me petite, je est un piereil" thier children look as though they walked out of a gap kids catalouge. cute. The boy was looking for puddles to jump in, as all boys do, and would jump until all of the water was out of the hole. His plan was to wait until someone was passing to really put some effort to it...i was victim number one. His parents simply laughed thier little french giggle while discussing baguets whilest he soaked the working class of DC with his Shamu like frolicing.

i've only ever been purple once before

I needed some rest and relaxation, so when the opportunity presented itself for a sunny weekend in the outer banks, i was on it like kobe. I spent the weekend sunning myself on the breezy shores of Corolla watching golfers play the 13th green as if they were the masters themselves. I passed the days reading the new book whilest doging a hailstorm of poor golfing. I now have "titelist" permanently imprinted on a goosegg on my head. Actually it reads "tsiletit," but i've been telling people i got into a fight with russian over who really launched sputnik.
I had the foresight to apply a thick layer of sunscreen to the top of my body. Torso up is a nice even pink, like salmon. My legs i ignored, who really puts sunscreen on thier legs anyway? Well a few hours of sitting in a chair reading and a brief nap have taught me a thing or two about the importance of proper epidermal protection. It wasn't too bad at first. i went inside and noted the strinking similarities between by two legs and the vine ripened tomato. I shrugged and continued reading. That night however i got this spectacular stinging sensation below my waist. I thought perhaps a jellyfish had gotten in the shower and was attmepting to eat me. wrong. My legs continued this splended feeling of electrocution for 3 days. Until it stopped and my calves turned purple. I think that happens when skin tissue dies. Today was the first day back to work. I'd slept in a position, without sheets, similar to a person making a snow angel. I awoke goggy with an inexplicable need for hot cocoa. Shower and time to dress.
I donned a pair of shorts and my tie, shirt and suit jacket. It didn't look too good as an ensemble but who would know? All i had to do was sit at my desk for the day. I'd look like i was professional from the waste up and from the waste down it was all party.