Posts from — February 2003

This past August, my wife Brenda & I became homeowners for the first time. Last week, most of the east coast of the United States was hit hard by a major winter storm and we got lots and lots of snow. Were it not for the former event, the latter would have amounted to nothing more than a snow day.

Water. It falls from the sky. Sometimes it’s liquid, and sometimes it’s frozen. When it’s frozen it’s called snow. When it’s liquid it’s called rain. When 2.5 feet of the former falls in one day, and 2.5 inches of the latter falls a week later, it’s called a freakin’ mess.

Prior to our having a basement—excuse me, owning a basement—we lived in ignorant, rental bliss. Five stories above street level, we rented an apartment in Hoboken, NJ. Leaks were the landlord’s problem. Oh sure, we had a minor leak in the roof that stained our bathroom ceiling—excuse me, my landlord’s ceiling. But it never amounted to more than a pendulous drip during even the most biblical of rainstorms. Did I mention we were five stories above the street when it rained, and that we had absolutely no posessions below grade?

Cut to present. I’m a homeowner. The aforementioned snow and rain had to go someplace; we knew this was coming, as we had aqua events in the basement before this, following lesser weather. I should explain:

We live in a condo, an end unit. Realtors, family and friends alike will tell you the end unit is best, as it affords an extra exterior exposure, and is thus brighter and you have one less adjoining neighbor. In our case, we also gain three large holes in our foundation. The foundation is the thing underground that holds your house up and keeps the outside outside. Underground is the place where the water goes when it falls from the sky.

These holes in our foundation? Yes, they are conduits through which run some supply pipes for heat and hot water for the condo unit—not just ours but our neighbors’ as well. You know, the neighbors who got a raw deal because they only have two exposures and a neighbor on each side? Let me tell you something people, we have two neighbors too. A quiet, single man named Maurice lives in the condo on one side, and the evil bitch Ma Nature lives on the other side. Those conduits seem to have some faults, some hairline cracks or somesuch. When it rains hard, the ground gets soaked and the water all wants to come in to my house because it’s cold outside and we have the heat cranked up and the water knows that I always keep the fridge filled with good beer.

The previous owner experienced this problem as well. He rigged up a clever drain system which consisted of a bucket with a drain on it, to which he connected a garden hose. This hose then led to the sump pump, which was, oddly enough, located at the opposite end of the basement. This works quite well for the most part, but yesterday while checking on the performance of the drain I heard a noise. It sounded like a drip, drip, drip. But it was tough to tell the origin because water was flowing from conduit number one as if from a faucet. Eventually I found the source of the noise:

It was coming from conduit number two. There was no clever drain at conduit number two. It was time to go to Home Depot.

The do-it-yourselfer’s Mecca was bristling with activity. As I got close to the entrance, I saw a few couples exiting the building with industrial-strength sump pumps and fire hoses. They had the thousand-yard stare. I felt like an extra in “Platoon”. Time to go to work.

The plumbing aisle was the center of all activity this miserably grey day, a throng of people gathering weapons for battle. PVC pipe, plastic sheeting, mops, anything rubber or otherwise waterproof was being collected. The sump pump area had the look & feel of a medeival market, the peasants demanding more from the vendors. A pallet of 1/2 horsepower (or “half-horse”, as the Home Depot worker lovingly referred to them) sump pumps was hastily left at the end of the aisle, in hopes that it would appease the unruly mob. It had the look of a Thanksgiving turkey carcass—half eaten, with many bits strewn about the place. The people were demanding automatic sump pumps, apparently like the one I had in my basement (albeit poorly located). But they were all out. Had been since morning. Sensing I may be targeted by the mob for my good fortune, I set about to gather the materials I needed and got the hell out of Dodge.

Back at home, Brenda & I assembled a makeshift second drain out of a bucket, a lovely brass spigot, and some quick drying waterproof epoxy, the fumes from which are still giving my esophagus a little trouble. Once I got the siphon started, it worked a treat, and has all day today too.

As I type this, the sump pump just kicked in again, singing its sweet, gurgling song. Snow & rain are in the forecast for tomorrow. Got sump?

Some enterprising souls have done some creative (and hysterical) re-writes of the ever-helpful info at the Department of Homeland Security’s website:

Have a look at this, this, and this.

When you’re done, snag yourself a pair of snazzy Tom Ridge underpants here.

Worried about that maximum tonnage of missing Anthrax? DHS threat levels got you down? Not to worry. The good folks at MG Packaging have assembled everything you need, and it’s ready to ship!

Yes, for thirty five bucks (plus shipping) you get one roll of plastic sheeting, and two (not one, but two) rolls of duct tape!! WOW!

Act now, as this sick exploitation of the fears of American citizens for cash money probably won’t last. And you really want to see this, because the illustration on the homepage is downright scary.

The ad depicts a construction worker (?) holding an “alert” sign. This is apparently the way DHS threat levels are telegraphed in some areas of the country. To make matters worse, our harbinger of doom is sans right hand (presumably chewed it off in a nervous nail-biting incident gone awry), and is sporting inky black nipples that appear to protrude right through his undershirt. One can only hope that this is not some greusome deformation that occurs when one is not Prepared.

I’m also a little worried; I mean, I’m no scientist, but the image depicts a box with the advertised contents in it. First off, there appears to be no way for the box to be sealed with those two rolls of duct tape protruding far above the top of the box. This leads to the next question; how can two rolls of duct tape tower over a supposedly TEN FOOT roll of friggin’ plastic sheeting??!!

And besides, nowhere in their ad do they specify the thickness, in friggin .MLs, of the sheeting. I counsel caution when ordering from these yahoos.

OK, let’s see. There are missile launchers on the streets of Washington, bellicose rumblings from North Korea in response to our assertion that they can reach the west coast of the US with nukes, and we’re at “Threat Condition High”. The troops are massed (over 150,000), and Dubya gave a pep rally, during which he no-doubt uttered the following: “eye-rack” (Iraq), and “nook-you-lur” (nuclear), several times.

Man, I’d say things are pretty screwed up right about now.

This is not a political forum, and I’m a political agnostic anyhow (I’m pretty sure there are some people doing some good in Washington, but I haven’t seen any evidence), so don’t expect some “answer”, or “cure”, from me for all of this. I just needed to vent.

And while we’re on the topic, what’s the deal with the DHS’ threat level system, anyway? Condition Severe means “Severe risk”, and Condition High means “High risk”, but Condition Elevated means “Significant risk”. Shouldn’t Condition Elevated mean “Elevated risk”? This is all very confusing.

Actually, it’s all very scary.

Uhm, I just got home from work and, what with it being friggin’ Saturday and all, I needed some mindless fun. Flipping through the channels, I landed on HGTV’s “Designer’s Challenge”. I enjoy watching this show, mainly because the designers invent new words when they make their presentations.

I was in time for the introductory segment, wherein we learn the horrible plight of the homeowners. Their million dollar home has a kitchen that lacks Good Circulation, has Poor Natural Lighting, or—god forbid—both. As I watch the rundown, I notice the male homeowner bears a striking resemblance to The Man Show’s Jimmy Kimmel. Could it be? Co-host of a show that is the most obvious assault on the male weakness(es) in the name of commercialism running on television today, sitting in his kitchen with his WIFE, and the KIDS playing in the background??!!!

The happy voice-over lady did in fact confirm that this was the Kimmel household. That was Jimmy. But there were no Juggy Girls anywhere. Everyone was wearing regular clothes, no-one was gyrating, and the only silicone in evidence was the lube on the cabinet-drawer rails.

So I’m watching the first hack make his(her?) presentation, and Mr Man Show is conspicuously absent from the judging panel. Happy Voice-Over Lady even made a statement about that; she said “with Jimmy at ‘the office’, Mrs. Kimmel listened to the presentations”.

I don’t know about you, but I was laughing my ass off. Apparently, Mrs. Kimmel entertained some interior designers while Jimmy interviewed strippers for Juggy Girl slots.

In the end, The Kimmels got a lovely Tudor-style kitchen, Jimmy tossed a few zingers on-camera, and everyone had a good time. Breakfast at the Kimmel home is certainly more orderly now, with the butcher block peninsula. Thank God.

But what I want to see is the Juggy Girl demo reel from the auditions on presentation day, the presentations that Jimmy had to miss. Best part is the verbiage used by Happy Voice-over Girl to describe Jimmy’s absence. She claimed he was “tied up at the office”.

Uh huh.

I am always amazed by the ability of advertisers to brainstorm & develop new ways to sell target markets shit they don’t necessarily need. I’m also amazed by their shamelessness. Thanks to stevenf for this article.