January 19, 2006


I think it's safe to say that I am not a well-domesticated man. The problems started with the instant mashed potatoes. On the back of the container there are several columns of figures to relate to the amount of each ingredient you'll need for a certain serving size. Unfortunately, there are two columns with large volumes in them: one for the size of the container and the other for the amount of water added. Obviously, the size of the container will be larger than the amount of water needed... by a significant margin. However, if you get splatter or something on the "water column" and don't really think that anyone would bother enumerating what size of a container is needed to make instant mashed potatoes (I mean, come on, just grab a freaking pot and go), you might read the "container column" and think "two quarts of water to 3 cups of potatoes... well, ok." In thinking this you would be wrong. You would also make some nasty-looking potato soupy stuff.

Now, the rest of the cookery (mostly left to Toad) went fairly well... and dinner was good and all of that. And then the wives tried to make us watch American Idol... and so we ran off to put up shelves. While the actual shelving went off without a hitch, apparently my neighbor relations aren't so good. I mean, it was only 8 or 8:30 when we started in on the shelves... how was I supposed to know that the neighbors would object to our drilling holes in the wall and banging nails into it? So we got about half-way through the project, with all of the holes drilled and most of the shelf-hangers anchored when the wall started making banging noises of its own. "Odd..." we thought, "the wall gnomes are usually much more subtle than to be making a loud racket. Maybe they're putting up shelves of their own." Continuing on to anchor the L-braces for the shelves, we started hammering and the gnomes started at it again, and then from the next apartment came a female scream, "QUIT IT!"

"Hmm.... I'm guessing that wasn't the wall gnomes."

To which Toad replied, "Yeah... guess not."

"Maybe we should call it a night"

"Maybe... I think you can finish this tomorrow on your own."

"Yeah... hehe... we pissed off the neighbors."


Our wives were somewhat perplexed by our amusement and made us watch American Idol as penance for not having finished. For our parts, we endured our torture with a stiff upper lip and filed grievances with Amnesty International. That show is criminal.

Posted by Vengeful Cynic at January 19, 2006 08:05 AM | TrackBack