When I originally moved into the Chowderpad, I was a bit hasty in signing up for a cable TV package; one that I quickly discovered was heavily enriched with channels that have no business being on TV. I never realized that local Government had so many unimportant things to say, and with so many distribution outlets to say it through.
So, last week I decided to visit my local AT&T retailer to schedule a Cable Guy to come out and host an installation party that would hopefully waste my entire Saturday afternoon.
While in the store, going through the endless paperwork stack, and trying my best to comprehend the sales pitch that I was not really listening to, I once again slept through a vital information exchange opportunity:
The address on my license was not my current place of residence.
Because of my dur moment, I put poor store rep. Andy, through a heap of trouble preparing a work order for a cable package installation that was now scheduled to take place at a house that I do not live in.
CH: “My apologies for the hassle, Andy.”
Andy: “No prob, bobski! When the installer calls you next Saturday, just give him the correct address.”
CH: “I’m sorry, did you say something just now? I was busy scratching my hand.”
Andy: “Oh, yes. I was just saying that *WOM WOM WOM WOM*.”
CH: “Oh, ok. Check ya later!”
So there I sit the following Saturday morning in a hangover state, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and moccasin slippers, eating a bowl of Raisin Bran, when the phone unexpectedly rings. On the other line is the cable guy that I forgot about, en route, to the wrong address.
Steve: “Hi this is Steve with AT&T. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I’ll be at your place in about twenty minutes.”
CH: “Oh hey, can you make it thirty? I totally forgot that we scheduled for today, and I need to clear a path from the computer to my entry door for you.”
Steve: “You got it, boss.”
CH: “Hey Steve, are you allergic to filth by any chance?”
After hanging up the phone, I immediately turned into Martha Stewart on caffeine pills, trying feverishly to create an environment that would hopefully not inspire my Cable Guy to call the Department of Health on me. I finished quickly, and even had time to light a few Hawaiian Ocean Scent Glade candles.
I hope Steve didn’t get the wrong impression.
Steve: “Hi, this is Steve again with AT&T.”
CH: “Hi Steve.”
Steve: “Guess where I am right now?”
CH: “In the parking lot?”
Steve: “I’m at the wrong address.”
Fortunately Steve was blessed with many virtues that I don’t possess. He very kindly understood the lack of responsibility on my part to inform him that he was headed to the wrong address, and arrived shortly after ending a very distressed-sounding call.
Steve quickly made himself at home on the couch, telling me a personal story about every CD in my collection, with his dirty boots being comfortably propped up by my ottoman. He then put in a phone call to Technical Service Team Member, Flo, employee number 1.3.6.alpha.niner.2.8, and the two proceeded to ping pong the same piece of information back and forth for approximately an hour on speaker phone..
Steve: “I think we got your work order set. The install’s happening today, my man.”
CH: “Hey, who’s that guy pullin’ into the parking lot right now?”
Steve: “Huh. Someone else in your building must be getting AT&T U-verse installed today too? Weird!”
I then proceeded to lead AT&T mystery installer Jim into the Ranch and introduced him to current AT&T installer Steve. The two then spent forty five minutes making small chat about the double scheduling, and trying to figure out whether or not they both shared any common blood relation.
I didn’t realize that Cable TV was this fucking complicated.
Installer Jim eventually relieved Installer Steve of his duties, and after showing Installer Steve out the door, I then went on an hour long phone jack hunt with Installer Jim and his magic wand. It took me approximately three minutes to search my forty square foot apartment and come to the conclusion that it’s absent a jack. It took Jim and his magic wand a lot longer.
And then a revelation sent from God:
Jim: “Looks like you don’t have a phone jack in here.”
CH: “How much did you pay for that wand?”
AT&T installer Jim was a very polite dude. He did an admirable job of keeping me posted throughout the entire process of not getting anything done.
Jim: “Just gonna head out to the truck real quick for a screwdriver.”
Jim: “Just gotta call my Technical Support Adviser before I can connect this wire here.”
Jim: “Just gonna put my carpet booties on real quick.”
Three hours later, Jim informed me that there was a complication:
Jim: “I’m gonna have to call the energy company.”
Jim: “Well, it looks like there’s no phone jack in here.”
Soon after my head rolled off my shoulders, Energy Specialist Larry arrived to join the phone jack hunting party with me, Jim, and Jim’s magic wand.
Larry the Energy Specialist showed up looking like Rambo but with less grenades, and with more sets of pliers and wires strapped to his chest and legs. He pulled out his wand, which was much bigger and more expensive-looking than Jim’s much smaller, cheaper-looking wand, which immediately caused Jim to experience magic wand-envy.
An hour later, another revelation sent from God:
Larry: “There’s no phone jack in here.”
Jim: “That’s what I thought.”
CH: “Larry, how much did you pay for that wand?”
After a grand total of 6 hours, 35 minutes, and roughly 19 and a half seconds, it took three technicians to come to the conclusion that I need to have a quarter-sized hole cut into the drywall of my linen closet before Operation Cable Installation can be executed.
Needless to say, I spent the rest of that evening with a stiff drink, watching a zoning debate on Local Government Access Channel 2.
See you next Saturday, JIM…
- Take a look; It’s in a book, Chowderheads \m/
Yes, you heard that correctly. Another one of those “in the name of Art” people is apparently stuffing her love donut with balls of yarn and knitting sweaters from it, in an expression known as Vaginal Knitting.
I guess cramming a fistful of Dominos up the bunghole was a bit too risque’.
Cooter-crafter and self proclaimed “feminist artist”, Casey Jenkins, is the pioneer of this fishy new trend. According to the Huffington Post, “Jenkins has described the piece as “arousing” and promises to work non-stop during the days she’s knitting, come hell or high water… or menstruation.”
Ms. Jenkins is obviously not in possession of a Webster’s Dictionary, because she is incorrectly using the term “arousing” in this example. There is nothing about this act even remotely arousing. In fact, I think it would be more likely for me to get a boner from gawking at a napkin dispenser with Icy Hot on my danglers, than from watching this weaver’s beaver in action.
I can’t imagine many people are attending the Jenkins residence for Christmas either. The people that do show up are probably all sitting around on plastic-covered furniture, unwrapping their ugly sweaters with rubber gloves on that were issued to them upon entry of said residence.
Jenkins’ Son: ”Cool, another sweater!”
Jenkins: “Now go run and put it in the dryer, sweetheart!”
Why, in the 21st Century, with all of the these crazy new apps, High Definition TV, internet porn, and State Parks, are we regressing to things like this for entertainment purposes?
The day that anyone I’m dating comes home and tries to talk me into wearing a sweater that fell out of her birth canal, is the day that I start sneezing gold coins. I mean, it would be cool to have an endless financial source and all, but the point I’m trying to make here is that it isn’t very likely to happen. Ever.
Sanitary reasons aside, there are also potential health risks like, burns and abrasions, and getting it stuck up in there. And for those of you who have ever gone night fishing with me, you’re already aware of how painstakingly difficult it is to untangle a ball of line without a flashlight handy.
Given the constraints of human anatomy, this would be a slight chore. It may even require a brief hospital stay if scissors are introduced at any point. But, I would advise scheduling a doctor visit prior to the self-removal procedure. And then I would advise you to invest in a board game like, Monopoly.
What will it be next…
Cheers to Another Ugly Sweater-Wearing Holiday, Chowderheads \m/
- “Oz” brings you “vaginal knitting!” (adscam.typepad.com)
- “Vaginal Knitting” Is the New Thing in Activist Performance Art (gawker.com)
- “Vaginal Knitting” As Activist Performance Art (joindahunt.com)
At first, I respectfully declined his offer.
I’ve never seen the movies, and I was pretty adamant about remaining a Star Wars virgin [no pun intended]. But in the name of trying out new things, I decided to sit down and finally give it a chance.
CH: What the fuck is this?
TD: It’s a Star Wars Test that I wrote.
CH: Are you serious?
TD: Of course! How else am I gonna know whether or not you actually watched ‘em?
CH: I’m not taking a Star Wars test.
TD: When you finish it, gimme a ring and I’ll swing by in the Star Cruiser and slap a grade on it.
CH: You mean your Honda Civic?
TD: Same difference.
The first mistake I made was deciding to sit down and watch the movies after ingesting 45 grams of tryptophan. Needless to say I didn’t get very far. I think I lasted about forty five minutes into the first movie before my turkey dinner pimp-slapped the hat off my head.
So, I had to fudge a few answers on the stupid test he gave me. It was an honest attempt.
What is the name of the first episode?
Who blew up the first death star?
Those Furby things – the short ones with the bow and arrows.
Who is the chosen one?
Who is Anakin’s father?
The guy with the flash light sword and the belt around his dress. Lou Piebaker?
How old is Yoda?
I’m not sure, but he’s senile and slightly dyslexic.
Who is used as a template to create the clone army?
*Please rephrase this question.
How does the Emperor lure Vader to the dark side?
I’m pretty sure it was a hand job.
Name one good thing about Jar Jar Binks
This character doesn’t ring a bell, but I’ll tell you one bad thing: his parents are pretty fucking lazy name-givers, because his middle name is the same as his first name.
How does Palpatine‘s dentist still have a job?
I think the answer to this one is also a hand job.
Who wins the battle between Anakin and Vader?
Who shoots first, Han or Greedo?
Speaking of hand jobs…
Greedo sounds greedy, so he was probably the first shooter.
Are Boba and Jango related?
I believe they were dance partners, so yes.
How long do Luke and Leia date?
You know, Leia strikes me as a bit of a snob. And if I were Piebaker, I would have dumped her off at the first bus terminal on Mars after about 15 minutes.
To what is Yoda responding when he says, “Judge me by my size, do you?”
It was the part where him and Harrison Ford were comparing their penises in the star ship break room.
I called Twindaddy the following evening and he stopped over in the Civic. I refuse to refer to it as the “Star Cruiser”.
TD: Well, how’d you do?
CH: Pretty good I think.
TD: How’d you like the movies?
CH: The first one was ok.
TD: I told you they were awesome!
CH: Well, the font actually. I thought the font was pretty cool. And the Tobacka guy I liked too.
CH: Yeah, the hairy dude.
TD: I’m not expecting a passing grade here…
CH: Definitely flunked it.
Maybe some of you Star Wars nuts can do a little better on this test than I did. I honestly cannot answer these questions without doing a Google search. I’ll bet five Monopoly bucks that you can’t stump the Master of the Jedi Universe over here. Drop Twindaddy a trivia question in the comment section if you’re up to the challenge. You’ll probably lose.
Gotta run. Space Balls is on right now.
FOR MORE TWINDADDY CLICK THE BANNER BELOW
May the Farts Be With You, Chowderheads \m/
- 10 Things You Didn’t Know About the Star Wars Universe (thechowderhead.com)
- BLOWS IT, YODA DOES: I Watched The Star Wars Movies For The First Time In 10 Years And Here’s What I Learned (DIS) (businessinsider.com)
- Medicom Toy x BAPE x Milo x Star Wars (retrenders.com)
Thank you to everybody who submitted a mustache pic in show of support for the Movember effort. Even if you didn’t donate anything, the fact that you sported a lip brow and snapped a few pic shows that you’re willing to play a role. I dig that. And because you people are cool like that, I’m now going to live up to my end up the deal: The Giveaway!
Even if you didn’t enter into the drawing, click the video below for a little bit of fun video entertainment this Saturday morning to find out who the winners are.
Movember Mug Giveaway Winners:
More Movember Contests and Giveaways:
If you missed Nicole Marie’s post on Tuesday, I’d recommend going back and giving it a read. It was a highly personal, and very powerful piece of poetry that was well-deserving of the attention that it received.
Of Me speaks about negative self perception of body image from a young woman’s perspective. It carries a universal theme, and it’s a demon that a lot of people have either dealt with in the past, or are still currently battling.
I’ve read a lot of heavy-topic articles around the web, but this was the first time I ever read something that actually moved me to tears.
It was the closing stanza that really poked me:
I am, she says, a well-wrapped box of weeds and good intentions, worn at the seams – no card attached. But she will never learn the weight of her own gravity; she will never see the blue of the sky, if she never raises her eyes to it.
A dude by the name of Rich then followed up with an incredibly thoughtful interpretation of those two beautiful lines:
It speaks to me because most of us view weeds as bad. but dandelions are beautiful weeds. There are many colorful weeds along highways. and what of the weed itself? It’s just following nature, growing, absorbing water and CO2 like a rose or a holly or mums. So it’s got the same good intentions as those other, more appreciated plants, and it cleans the air for humans, just like the more beautiful flowers. It isn’t always as pretty, but it does the same things for the balance of nature. Good intentions.
The insight that Rich provided is reflective of my own life philosophy.
I think any attempt to bully someone into accepting some version of “ideal” is actually an attempt to mask an insecurity or fear of the aggressor. And by consequence, all it does is create an insecurity in an otherwise secure person. In other words, nobody is born into this world with a negative self-perception; it’s a learned behavior.
That critical voice in your head is not your own. Figure out who’s voice it is and dispel it.
Recognize that you are an asset as you are; utilize your own greatest strengths, and maintain your free-spiritedness and free-thinking mindset. Allow your pockets of peace to grow and expand until they completely fill you. We all have something unique and important to contribute, regardless of anything said contrarily.
Keep admiring your authenticity, and become the eye of the beholder. If you can maintain that mindset, you might not ever have to look into another mirror again to confirm it. It was a courageous and fantastic piece that you wrote, Nicole Marie.
Chin square to the ground at all times. Salute.
- Meeting Adjourned, Chowderheads \m/
Tomorrow is the last day to submit your Movember Mustaches before the contest ends. Click here to visit the contest post. I’ll be announcing the winners here on Saturday Morning, and I might even break down and do a VIDEO drawing. Yes! \m/ In the meantime, please donate a couple of bucks to the Movember Cause if you can. Even a small donation would be greatly appreciated.
Click the Banner for More of Nicole Marie
If you’re not familiar with the name Mike Calahan, you’re probably living on a free-floating sheet of ice somewhere in the Arctic Circle. And if that’s the case, call your local cable company, get the Wi-Fi hooked up, and tune in next Tuesday for an opportunity to dive helmet-head first into the genetically-enhanced grey matter of the author behind the blog, B.L.O.G.
It’s a bit redundant, I know. But that’s exactly what makes him a literary genius.
I originally booked Mike for a luxurious, all-inclusive stay here at the Chowderhead Headquarters for last weekend, but unfortunately, he was already committed to some hairspray convention out in Tucson. We’re now set to square off this weekend for a one-on-one showdown.
Designer brand mouse. Collared shirts and ties. The sleekest pair of black frame glasses west of the Mississippi…
I might be in over my head.
See you Tuesday.
- Honor thy comb and thy hair gel, Chowderheads \m/
**If you have questions that you’d like me to ask Mike, drop a line in the comments and I’ll be sure to work ‘em in.
- Because I Haven’t Got the Legs for Dancing (tipsylit.com)
- Paranormal Housekeeping (thechowderhead.com)
- If you had 5 minutes to talk to a Dung Beetle, what would you say? (longawkwardpause.wordpress.com)
I’m sitting in my front yard right now sipping a Cosmo in nothing but a banana hammock and a pair of thong sandals!
Just kidding. That would be shitty news. And highly unlikely because I don’t even drink Cosmos.
But speaking of Cosmopolitan and great news, The Indie Chicks invited my loud, beer-drinking, potty-mouth into their quaint dinner party to share a few writing tips. Big mistake. Click the hyperlink to read How to Give your Comedy Blog an Edge. Same old Chowderhead, but with a suit and tie on. And a pair of Red Chuck Taylor‘s. (\m/)
Oh, and keep an eye out on Thursday for Conversations with Cats. It’s a comical take on what it would be like if cats could talk. Specifically, if my fuck-nut stepcat, Jack, could speak. It’s an addendum to last week’s guest post, Conversation with Dogs.
Now could someone PLEASE pass the Caviar. I need something to sop up the six pack that I just inhaled. God, I’m gonna get kicked out of this place before the salad even gets here…
- Rock on, Chowderheads \m/
- The Hook is an Indie Chick For A Day – Again! (youvebeenhooked.wordpress.com)
- Scott Walker is awesomesauce? These chicks think so (host.madison.com)
I’m sad to announce that The Official Sleep Deprivation Challenge is now officially over. Put down your Pom-poms and exit the bleachers in a single file line. [Insert distraught emoticon face.]
At approximately the 120 hour mark of the competition, I face planted into a bowl of macaroni salad and woke up six days later to a beard, dozens of misc. stains on the upholstery, a roof full of mortar shell debris, a bathtub full of jelly beans (?), and a fucking cat that apparently lives here now (cat story coming soon).
My brain shut down after Day 2 of the challenge, making it difficult to write anything down other than “dur…” But, by the power of Zues, I somehow managed to keep a daily log.
Here are a few entries from the remainder of the challenge: Continue reading
**Part One and Two can be found here: Chowderhead’s Official Sleep Deprivation Olympic Challenge. and here: Sleep Deprivation Olympic Challenge: Day 1 Results
Day 2 Recap: Fear and Loathing at the Local Laundromat
I spent the first few early morning hours at some dirty laundromat around the corner, glazed over, watching a pack of wild goobers meticulously folding their yellowed whites.
At one point, the Chowderhead at the front counter started to get lippy with me after I expressed my concerns over the excessive lint piles that, in my opinion, should be periodically swept from the folding tables.
I made a very dry remark about her missing front tooth after she refused to acknowledge my request, and the next thing I recall was a sort of white flash – like a computer rebooting – and myself on all fours, on the floor, staring at the tooth that had been forcefully removed from my head.
Luckily, for the sake of this experiment, I didn’t completely blackout. Continue reading
**In case you missed the introduction to this whole mess that I’m subjecting myself to, be sure to read here first: Chowderhead’s Official Sleep Deprivation Olympic Challenge.**
Well, Day 1 of the challenge began and ended with only a few minor burps, but all in all, things are going pretty smoothly.
It’s important to note:
I haven’t officially been awake for twenty four hours because I accidentally fell asleep during the first hour while watching an episode of The Real Housewives of some posh, tropical county. Shortly after that I slipped on a bar of soap in the shower and hit my head on the soap tray.
I still don’t really know exactly how long I was out for..
However, as the early hours of this study peel off the clock, I’m starting to feel like sleep is just an overrated, productivity-killing waste of time. I mean, how the hell are we supposed to advance as a society when everybody’s larding around for eight hours everyday?
I intend to take full advantage of those additional eight hours each night by catching up on a few chores that I’ve been meaning to get to for awhile.
Summary of Events, Accomplishments, and Other Stuff from Day 1: Continue reading