BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

My apologies to the B-52’s. I’ll buy y’all a round of drinks next time you’re in town, okay? (Watch ’em all order B-52’s…)

So, anyway, Facebook and Twitter folk know that last weekend we were finally able to get around to re-roofing our shed. Many of you have asked about it… Okay, okay, so none of you have asked about it. Be that way… Sheesh… Tough crowd everywhere I go.

Be that as it may… or as it were… or was… or is… Oh, what the hell. Thing is, it’s too damn hot for me to sit in the office and be funny. I’m much funnier when chilled. Therefore, by way of blog entry I am going to provide you with a few pictures and captions from the Great Shed Re-Roofing of 2010…

To the left we have “Le Shed.” The E K and I built it something on the order of 15 or 17 or maybe even 112 years ago. I can’t really remember. At any rate, it has served us well. However, it lives beneath a black walnut tree that is infested with Tree Rats (aka Skwirlz… not Squirrels, mind you. We have Skwirlz. Trust me… I’m pretty sure McSquizzy is their leader.) Anywho, after umpty-jillion years the asphalt shingled roof gave up the ghost. Once that happened, McSquizzy and his crew began their own demolition work.

Between the Skwirlz and weather, tolls were taken, but no receipts given. Problem is, with our schedules, getting out there and re-roofing the thing was proving a challenge. It wasn’t that we didn’t know how. We just didn’t have time.

Finally, this past winter we were able to do a quick tear-off, but the weather turned on us, and with time being a factor once again, a tarp became the interim roof.

Me, being the early riser that I am, got out there and pulled the tarp, then set about the process of replacing the damaged trusses.

Eventually, Loota-Chack and the Mikester showed up, followed by Johnathan “Mentos Rib Fest” Minton. Oh, and E K was there too. Once we managed to get the trusses replaced, E K and the Mikester went up top and set about the process of installing the purlins. These were necessary because we elected to go with a corrugated roofing material this go around.

During the initial installation, we were entertaining ourselves with some tunes. Much to our  dismay followed by delight, we discovered that the Mikester was unfamiliar with Aphrodite’s Child. We made it a point to change that.

This educational interlude, however, seemed to annoy the disembodied voice behind all of the pictured foliage, and he yelled sarcastic silliness at us. He should really leave the sarcasm to the professionals, because he wasn’t any good at it at all.

Here we have the offending radio. It even has its own chair. We allowed it to continue playing in the back yard while we were working so that we could keep an eye on it. However, since it was bad and offended the neighbor so much that he had to yell over the top of his weeds, when we were finished we sent it to its room and took away its power cord. Bad radio. No batteries for you!

It never ceases to amaze me…

No matter how hard I work, no matter what power tools, hand tools, or lumber I happen to be using, cutting, hammering, or otherwise busting my ass with, the only picture of me is where I am in supervisor mode.

I think E K does that to me on purpose, just to make me look bad…

Of course, at least I was supervising.

Loota-chack, on the other hand, was working just as hard as she could holding the ground down so it didn’t float away. I mean, after all, if the back yard had floated away we wouldn’t have any place to put the shed, right?

But, seriously folks, this is just the A-Bomb taking a break. We were all bustin’ arses on this project. Even “Little Miss 57 Languages” here…

Speaking of Luets-es-es… Here we have The Mikester. He’s kind of a trip. Has do-rag, will travel. He even comes with his own tools.

One of the amazing things about The Mikester is that he shows up, tools in hand, then does ANYTHING and EVERYTHING the redhead tells him to do. Seriously. She points and barks orders. Mikester jumps and carries out her commands. Somehow or another she has him even better trained than she has me. Not sure what that’s all about.

And, what’s a shed re-roofing without a gratuitous “Kilroy Was Here” photo.

And, wouldn’t you know it, Johnathan “Mentos Rib Fest” Minton is the culprit.

Unfortunately, this is the best pic we have of the Mentos during the project, which is too bad.  The T-Shirt he wore that day is actually an On The Edge Graphics original from the online store. Any guesses which one? Yeah… “Wearer Property of Evil Kat“… Hmmm… wonder why he selected that particular shirt on that particular day?

And finally, The Evil One herself… She hates having her picture taken so this is pretty much the best I could manage… Not that it isn’t perfectly lovely in its own right…

She actually had to take frequent breaks, because she’s so hot that she was warping the Ondura Roofing Panels. Go figure…

Still, here the roof is almost halfway installed… By the time we were done we were all too tired to take a picture of the finished product – besides which, E K and I had to get cleaned up and rush downtown to MAC for my 30th HS reunion.

Yes. Seriously. We busted our asses on the shed ALL DAY, then went to the reunion dinner… So, if you were there and wondered why we looked a little cooked, there you have it.

Okay… I’ll see if I can come up with something funny for  this coming Wednesday.

Hey! It could happen…

More to come…

Murv

I’ve got a question…

Do any of you know what the statute of limitations is on produce thievery? I only ask because I think I must be in some kind of serious trouble. Especially if the sins of the parents are visited upon the offspring.

I know, doesn’t make much sense, does it? Well, maybe I can explain.

You see, my parents were Murvel Sellars Sr. and Sonja Sellars. Now, I realize those names are in no way synonymous with Bonnie & Clyde, but bear with me, because I think the Federales could be kicking down my door at any moment and I want to make sure the world hears this story before “the man” shuts me up…

Wayyyyyy, wayyyy back when… And, I say wayyyy, wayyyy back because it was when I was a kid, so you know it has to have been a long time ago (think 40 plus years.)

Anywho, way back when, my parents and their friends, would go out camping and such. Of course, we kids would come along too. We’d cook over the campfire, hike, and do all sorts of relaxing, fun, camping things. Well, it wasn’t unusual for us to camp within a short distance – maybe nearby, maybe even a couple of miles – of farmland. Said farmland would often times be planted with sweet corn.

I think maybe you can see where I’m headed here?

Well, I suppose some of you city folks might not… So, by way of explanation, we were occasionally known to “raid a corn field.” As in, go out in the middle of the night and help ourselves to a dozen or so ears of fresh sweet corn right out of the field, under cover of darkness… Clandestine Cob Coppage…  Kernel Kleptomania… Golden Grain Grabbage…  Starch Stealing… you get the idea…

From there we would often boil, roast, grill, and even BBQ the ill gotten gains. Now, I need to point out that this wasn’t a nightly occurence by any stretch, but hey, it happened a time or two during the summer months.

And now, I think that thievery has come back to haunt me. SWAT teams and such will probably be surrounding my house and launching tear gas in through the windows very soon.

Why would I think that?

Well, like I said, my parents were Murvel Sellars Sr. and Sonja Sellars… And, I’m Murvel Sellars Jr.

Still not understanding? Well, I don’t blame you… So, here’s the kernel of the story:

I checked my site logs the other day and discovered that Murvel and Sonja  Sellars are being searched out on the internet. Of course, the searches have lead the Federales straight to me, because my parents are both deceased and I don’t exactly hide out in the shadows if you know what I mean.

And, what makes me think it’s the Federales? Easy… I tracked the IP address right back to the offices of the US Department of Agriculture in Fort Collins, Colorado.

As I recall, that was some pretty good corn. Not worth prison time, but still pretty good.

Wonder if I should just call my attorney and turn myself in. Shucks, maybe I can butter someone up and work out a sweet deal…

More to come…

Murv