Colusa, CA - Land of the Large
Today I visited beautiful, historic, downtown Colusa to clear up a small traffic matter. While I was driving down from Portland last month the CHP decided I was going a little too fast and gave me a $405 ticket. I went up to request traffic-school which, bless the judge's heart, I was granted.
Before court I went to the bank to withdrawal my rent. The guy in front of me line was probably 5'5", and must have weighed 220 pounds. He was not the biggest guy I'd ever seen, but he was certainly showing off his curves via his outfit selection. He had on some very tight work pants which stuck close to his stick legs and followed his contours up to an abdomen that made sure the sun never hit his bright red and white basketball shoes. The rest of him was covered in a yellow, white, red, and neon blue, spandex sport shirt. It sort of said NASCAR to me, but I think that's because the busyness of the shirt reminded me of all those stickers they put on the cars. The man looked, and was shaped like a heavily sponsored candied apple.
In the court room one of the other traffic defendants came dressed for the judge in stretch pants and a stretch shirt which was 3 inches shy of covering her disturbingly hairy belly. My theory was that she planned to frighten the judge into dismissing her case.
In pot calling kettle news I've been keeping track of my weight for 2 months now, and at last check I'm exactly the same weight as when I started. On Friday morning I decided to get serious and really eat right and on Friday evening a package was waiting for me from the KQED membership department. It contained 4 gigantic Ghirardelli dark chocolate bars. Then last night I went to Napa for a nice family birthday dinner. On my way out the door I was loaded up* with an extra serving of mashed potatoes, steak, sautéed mushrooms, and 3/4 of a Boston cream pie.**
It looks like I'll be restricted to my fat jeans for a while.
* I made my own plate of leftovers, so I can't very well blame anyone on that point.
** I currently have 1/2 a Boston cream pie. We'll see if the pie can hold steady through breakfast.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
The Incurable Fixit
Today I was driving back from Union City where I had been to fix* a bed frame. Before I set off into 3:30pm traffic on 880, I went in search of a bathroom at Petco. In the bathroom, on the counter next to the empty paper towel dispenser, was a nearly full roll of paper towels.
I can see three explanations for this:
1) They lost the key to the dispenser.
2) The key is available, but they can't figure out how to install the roll.
3) The guy who is in charge of cleaning the brown ring out of the urinal is also in charge of the paper towel supply. I.E. Laziness.
Being the person I am, I flipped out my Leatherman Micra and popped the lock on the towel dispenser, perused the handy instructions printed on the inside, and loaded the paper towels.
I was a little unhappy that I'd taken the time to upgrade Petco's bathroom facilities because in the process of closing the dispenser lid I got whatever goo was on top all over my hands. And apparently the squirt of soap I had used before spotting the paper towel tragedy was the last squirt available, so I had to make do with rinsing my hands and wiping them with a freshly loaded paper towel. Thank goodness for my endless supply of hand sanitizer.
* I didn't actually fix the frame. It frame was not broken. Our homecare bed frames get crooked after a while if you don't either bring them up to their full height or lower them to the ground. Many adjustments around the middle of their height range make one end of the bed significantly higher than the other. But it's easy to fix: Bring the bed all the way up or all the way down. I tried to establish whether or not this was the problem before I drove the 40 miles to Union City, and I was assured that a) the bed was put together backwards, and b) only half the bed would move. I think there was some sort of language/IQ barrier between the person on the phone and I because both a) and b) were totally false. Jerks.
Today I was driving back from Union City where I had been to fix* a bed frame. Before I set off into 3:30pm traffic on 880, I went in search of a bathroom at Petco. In the bathroom, on the counter next to the empty paper towel dispenser, was a nearly full roll of paper towels.
I can see three explanations for this:
1) They lost the key to the dispenser.
2) The key is available, but they can't figure out how to install the roll.
3) The guy who is in charge of cleaning the brown ring out of the urinal is also in charge of the paper towel supply. I.E. Laziness.
Being the person I am, I flipped out my Leatherman Micra and popped the lock on the towel dispenser, perused the handy instructions printed on the inside, and loaded the paper towels.
I was a little unhappy that I'd taken the time to upgrade Petco's bathroom facilities because in the process of closing the dispenser lid I got whatever goo was on top all over my hands. And apparently the squirt of soap I had used before spotting the paper towel tragedy was the last squirt available, so I had to make do with rinsing my hands and wiping them with a freshly loaded paper towel. Thank goodness for my endless supply of hand sanitizer.
* I didn't actually fix the frame. It frame was not broken. Our homecare bed frames get crooked after a while if you don't either bring them up to their full height or lower them to the ground. Many adjustments around the middle of their height range make one end of the bed significantly higher than the other. But it's easy to fix: Bring the bed all the way up or all the way down. I tried to establish whether or not this was the problem before I drove the 40 miles to Union City, and I was assured that a) the bed was put together backwards, and b) only half the bed would move. I think there was some sort of language/IQ barrier between the person on the phone and I because both a) and b) were totally false. Jerks.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Saturday, October 14, 2006
And it Ended Well
Today I was having a fairly boring day. My many boring activities included:
-Eating cold pizza.
-Watching TV.
-Getting a haircut.
-Buying a UPS from the liquidating CompUSA.
-Eating warm pizza.
Then, while I was driving around, a very attractive girl with two lip rings driving a VW Bug smiled at me. And just like that, I had a good Saturday.
It doesn't take much to make me happy.
Today I was having a fairly boring day. My many boring activities included:
-Eating cold pizza.
-Watching TV.
-Getting a haircut.
-Buying a UPS from the liquidating CompUSA.
-Eating warm pizza.
Then, while I was driving around, a very attractive girl with two lip rings driving a VW Bug smiled at me. And just like that, I had a good Saturday.
It doesn't take much to make me happy.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Mid-60's Retro Gothic Dirt and the Brown Phlegm Kazoo
Today I delivered a bed frame to one of those houses that is probably worth a million or two, but would be worth quite a bit more if it wasn't decorated in mid-60's retro gothic dirt and didn't smell like pee.
And why is it that people who need hospital beds, usually because of a lack of mobility, never live on the ground floor? I had to lug 325 pounds of stuff down a long flight of stairs to the front door, then up a long flight of stairs to get to the bedroom. There really should have been a catwalk from the street to the bedroom window.
As I constructed the bed I had to deal with 3 things:
1) The pee smell. It's hard to put something together while I'm wishing I had a urinal cake to help clear the air.
2) A barrage of questions from the creepy brothers, sons of the patient.
3) Some serious B.O. coming off creepy brother #1. Every time he moved his arm I felt like switching careers to become a urinal cake.
After I had the bed put together, I explained to the creepy brothers how everything worked. They seemed so eager to know all the ins and outs of the bed frame while I was building it, but after I was done explaining it to them they chided me for not explaining it to the patient, who was sitting outside on the deck, and was apparently not planning on coming back in for the lesson.
So I moved my explanation out to the deck, which was difficult in that I was explaining the operation of the hospital bed which I generally do while standing next to the bed. I basically had to explain everything in theory with no visual aids or demonstrations. And to make matters worse I was trying to understand the questions the patient was asking while the creepy brothers were having an argument on the other side of the open glass door. This might not have been a big deal if the guy didn't talk using a throat kazoo. Throat kazoos are not made for loud speech.
When I had everything set up and all the pertinent questions answered, and some odd non-pertinent questions from creepy brother #1 answered, the patient started coughing up big gobs of brown phlegm through his kazoo and wiping them up with an ever more saturated piece of toilet paper. The phlegm is neither here nor there. I see gross stuff all the time. But as I was leaving the guy started to put out his hand for a farewell handshake. I didn't want to be rude, but I was not about to get brown kazoo phlegm on my ungloved hand.
As I made my out of the house creepy brother #1 decided he would walk me to my van. He asked several more questions which were only vaguely related to the delivery, explained how to get back to the main road (go down the hill and take the left fork, not hard) and then offered to ride with me until we got back to town. I gave my most hearty no thanks and drove away hoping against hope that I never have to go back on a service call.
Today I delivered a bed frame to one of those houses that is probably worth a million or two, but would be worth quite a bit more if it wasn't decorated in mid-60's retro gothic dirt and didn't smell like pee.
And why is it that people who need hospital beds, usually because of a lack of mobility, never live on the ground floor? I had to lug 325 pounds of stuff down a long flight of stairs to the front door, then up a long flight of stairs to get to the bedroom. There really should have been a catwalk from the street to the bedroom window.
As I constructed the bed I had to deal with 3 things:
1) The pee smell. It's hard to put something together while I'm wishing I had a urinal cake to help clear the air.
2) A barrage of questions from the creepy brothers, sons of the patient.
3) Some serious B.O. coming off creepy brother #1. Every time he moved his arm I felt like switching careers to become a urinal cake.
After I had the bed put together, I explained to the creepy brothers how everything worked. They seemed so eager to know all the ins and outs of the bed frame while I was building it, but after I was done explaining it to them they chided me for not explaining it to the patient, who was sitting outside on the deck, and was apparently not planning on coming back in for the lesson.
So I moved my explanation out to the deck, which was difficult in that I was explaining the operation of the hospital bed which I generally do while standing next to the bed. I basically had to explain everything in theory with no visual aids or demonstrations. And to make matters worse I was trying to understand the questions the patient was asking while the creepy brothers were having an argument on the other side of the open glass door. This might not have been a big deal if the guy didn't talk using a throat kazoo. Throat kazoos are not made for loud speech.
When I had everything set up and all the pertinent questions answered, and some odd non-pertinent questions from creepy brother #1 answered, the patient started coughing up big gobs of brown phlegm through his kazoo and wiping them up with an ever more saturated piece of toilet paper. The phlegm is neither here nor there. I see gross stuff all the time. But as I was leaving the guy started to put out his hand for a farewell handshake. I didn't want to be rude, but I was not about to get brown kazoo phlegm on my ungloved hand.
As I made my out of the house creepy brother #1 decided he would walk me to my van. He asked several more questions which were only vaguely related to the delivery, explained how to get back to the main road (go down the hill and take the left fork, not hard) and then offered to ride with me until we got back to town. I gave my most hearty no thanks and drove away hoping against hope that I never have to go back on a service call.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
My Day in Reverse
My last delivery of the day was fairly straight forward, but was overarchingly irritating. I'd been trying to deliver this guy's mattress since Friday, but he wouldn't let me because he "has no where to put it and he can't get the patient out of bed." I checked again on Monday and he angrily told me he'd call me back when he figured out how to use the Hoyer lift. So today he called and said he was ready, so I scheduled a 4:30pm appointment and he told me that I "shouldn't come early. Be here at 4:30pm exactly." I rang the doorbell at 4:30 and 15 seconds and he invited me into his GIGANTIC house and asked me to "just set the mattress down in the hall here. I'll put it on later." It seems like an awful lot of hassle for something I could have done on Friday.
My second to last delivery was to a facility which caters almost exclusively to the aged Chinese. There's a common area where all the residents sit in their wheelchairs, eat, nap, stare off into space, and/or watch TV. Today most everybody was staring off into space or napping. I guess they weren't interested in the sexually lurid anime that was blasting out of the TV.
I had lunch at a surprisingly festive Taco Bell today. There were two-flower vases on every table sitting on black and white thin plastic table"cloths". The ceiling behind the counter was covered with mylar balloons and every once in a while an employee would come by and offer everybody some free birthday cake. People kept inquiring about the occasion, but the employees either didn't know or didn't have the English acumen to get the message across.
Us: What's the occasion?
Them: It's a party.
Us: What's the cake for?
Them: For the customer.
Us: What's with all the decorations?
Them: It's a birthday party.
Us: Whose birthday?
Them: Taco Bell.
So I guess Taco Bell had a birthday today? Did anyone else see anything like this? Or maybe just this location?
But 3 taco supremes, 1 slice of Taco Bell birthday cake, and a guy who decided the far left FasTrak lane was not for him and that he should park perpendicularly across my FasTrak lane did not do my heart any good. Tomorrow I'm back on a diet of better food and driving.
My last delivery of the day was fairly straight forward, but was overarchingly irritating. I'd been trying to deliver this guy's mattress since Friday, but he wouldn't let me because he "has no where to put it and he can't get the patient out of bed." I checked again on Monday and he angrily told me he'd call me back when he figured out how to use the Hoyer lift. So today he called and said he was ready, so I scheduled a 4:30pm appointment and he told me that I "shouldn't come early. Be here at 4:30pm exactly." I rang the doorbell at 4:30 and 15 seconds and he invited me into his GIGANTIC house and asked me to "just set the mattress down in the hall here. I'll put it on later." It seems like an awful lot of hassle for something I could have done on Friday.
My second to last delivery was to a facility which caters almost exclusively to the aged Chinese. There's a common area where all the residents sit in their wheelchairs, eat, nap, stare off into space, and/or watch TV. Today most everybody was staring off into space or napping. I guess they weren't interested in the sexually lurid anime that was blasting out of the TV.
I had lunch at a surprisingly festive Taco Bell today. There were two-flower vases on every table sitting on black and white thin plastic table"cloths". The ceiling behind the counter was covered with mylar balloons and every once in a while an employee would come by and offer everybody some free birthday cake. People kept inquiring about the occasion, but the employees either didn't know or didn't have the English acumen to get the message across.
Us: What's the occasion?
Them: It's a party.
Us: What's the cake for?
Them: For the customer.
Us: What's with all the decorations?
Them: It's a birthday party.
Us: Whose birthday?
Them: Taco Bell.
So I guess Taco Bell had a birthday today? Did anyone else see anything like this? Or maybe just this location?
But 3 taco supremes, 1 slice of Taco Bell birthday cake, and a guy who decided the far left FasTrak lane was not for him and that he should park perpendicularly across my FasTrak lane did not do my heart any good. Tomorrow I'm back on a diet of better food and driving.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Boo!
Does anyone here listen to This American Life? I really like that show and they are having people call in with scary stories that they'll play on the air for their Halloween show. I just called in and told the story of on of my coworkers talking to a dead guy and apologizing for having to disturb him. It's not very scary, but I have this ill-conceived hope that Ira Glass will want to talk to somebody who has a job as weird as mine is.
As unlikely as it may be on the face of it, it's even more unlikely I'll be on the radio due to my extreme nervousness. I had to record my story twice on the voicemail thingy, and who knows how many details I screwed up. My brain tends to shut down in situations like these. I may have related an age old family recipe for banana bread for all I know.
Does anyone here listen to This American Life? I really like that show and they are having people call in with scary stories that they'll play on the air for their Halloween show. I just called in and told the story of on of my coworkers talking to a dead guy and apologizing for having to disturb him. It's not very scary, but I have this ill-conceived hope that Ira Glass will want to talk to somebody who has a job as weird as mine is.
As unlikely as it may be on the face of it, it's even more unlikely I'll be on the radio due to my extreme nervousness. I had to record my story twice on the voicemail thingy, and who knows how many details I screwed up. My brain tends to shut down in situations like these. I may have related an age old family recipe for banana bread for all I know.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Misc.
I've discovered that the optimal way of motating around a large warehouse is in a rolly computer chair. It's exciting to propel myself backwards at great speeds, and I can take corners by grabbing onto the shelving. It's great fun now, but I'm worried that someday I'll hit a floor-crack just right and end up under a bariatric commode.
My through-the-wall neighbors are cooking something that actually smells delicious. They must have broken out their new Orifices Are Not Ingredients cookbook by Rachael Ray.
Over the last week and a half I've had 3 over night visitors. (Not romantically, they all slept on an inflatable bed in my livitchen.) And I've noticed that I get a little antsy when I can't come home and strip down to my boxer shorts. I may not be able to ever have a roommate again. And soon I may not be able to stand having friends over. Perhaps I'd better befriend a group of semi-nudists. Then again, I'm not sure I'd want to sit around with other people and have underwear leisure time.
I've discovered that the optimal way of motating around a large warehouse is in a rolly computer chair. It's exciting to propel myself backwards at great speeds, and I can take corners by grabbing onto the shelving. It's great fun now, but I'm worried that someday I'll hit a floor-crack just right and end up under a bariatric commode.
My through-the-wall neighbors are cooking something that actually smells delicious. They must have broken out their new Orifices Are Not Ingredients cookbook by Rachael Ray.
Over the last week and a half I've had 3 over night visitors. (Not romantically, they all slept on an inflatable bed in my livitchen.) And I've noticed that I get a little antsy when I can't come home and strip down to my boxer shorts. I may not be able to ever have a roommate again. And soon I may not be able to stand having friends over. Perhaps I'd better befriend a group of semi-nudists. Then again, I'm not sure I'd want to sit around with other people and have underwear leisure time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
