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Monday, July 2, 2012

Finally...Monday!




The five day work week is often touted as one of labours great innovations. My response to that is who wants to work 40 hours a week? There's nothing liberating about being tied to a clock. Sometimes I work 50 hours a week...sometimes 30. Besides, who the hell makes any money working 40 hours a week...unless, of course, you can arbitrarily inflate your own wage.

Like most modern innovations the "weekend" is an empty promise...a fantasy. Liberties that are taken on Thursday aren't restored for the weekend. Petty annoyances don't take Saturday and Sunday off. People don't become better drivers at 5 on Friday...and you're far more likely to jump in the club pool with your iphone on a Sunday afternoon than you are on a Tuesday morning.

Nothin' 200 bucks can't fix.



All you need to know about Saturday is this...at one point, I had to get dressed. By my reckoning that's a huge fail.

Sunday was particularly irritating...the church was swarming with striped rags. There probably weren't that many surrounding Vicksburg during its destruction. I'm not saying there's no place for a kind of patriotism in the church but, what exactly are we supposed to be celebrating this July???? The destruction of Vicksburg, Friars Point, Meridian, Oxford, Greenwood, Jackson, etc...or maybe more recent events like the fruition of lincolnism and the final destruction of state sovereignty?

In a nave that is, de facto, C of E,..."My country tis of the...land of the pilgrims pride"...you mean the Church of England hating, smuggling, self-rightious pilgrims of new england?...Pound Sand. Despite the presence of people in Virginia for eons, despite the fact the, so called, Revolutionary War was financed through Charleston or that George Washington and Tom Jefferson were Southrons...these witch burners have convinced themselves that they invented the country. Of course, as it stands now...it is their invention and has been since 1865.

No rest at home either...there's an open house to get ready for. I've got 20 minutes of sweeping...roof, deck, drive...and 10 minutes worth of battery for the blower. All in 100 degree heat. I'm pretty sure the Boy saw me fling the blower arcross the yard. Sue me. I have a pathological hatred of mundane tasks...and surly tools.

The Boy was a big help....

"Pick up your toys Boy."

"No...I'm...Not..A...Boy...I'm...A...Bad...Robot" ...choppin the air with his hands as he's walkin' off into the kitchen. Passin' gas the whole time.

Martha was up to her elbows in toilets and had no patience for my dissertation on the inevitable dissapointment of machines...given the conflict between thier promise and what they can actually deliver. She didn't exactly tell me to shut up, but...I went ahead and got a broom, went back to my sweeping.

Eventually we get loaded up for the pool...where, of course, I dunked my phone.

No lounging in my pajamas lazily reading blogs and corrresponding with friends...no NCIS marathons or window shopping on Ebay or Abebooks...just a maddening kalidoscopic series of interlocking frustrations.



Thank goodness this weeks "holiday" falls on a Wed. I don't think I could've taken a third day off.

24 comments:

  1. I hear you EF, nothing liberating at all about being a hamster on the working wheel, and still we do it.
    Your post did make me chuckle though, especially the bit about having to get dressed and dealing with power tools in the heat.

    Good luck with your open house. Meanwhile, I consider myself a pretty big music nerd, how come you always manage to post stuff by someone I have never heard of before....always something new to listen to :)

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    1. Yours is actually one of the blogs I've been meaning to get over too.

      As for the music...from about the age of 12 to 30 I lived in record shops and clubs. Now I mainly just post stuff to irritate Adam :).

      Glad you like it though.

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  2. Oh, my dear e.f., I feel your frustration! I hope the open house went - or will go - well.
    Your description, "a maddening kaleidoscopic series of interlocking frustrations" is poetic.
    Meantime, just because it's another way of looking at things, I bring you a homespun philosophy from...wait for it...*Russell Brand's Dad* (make of that what you will and please forgive the swearing but I think these things have to be said verbatim for full effect...)

    Russell says...
    “My dad's philosophy was (and I think still is) that life is a malevolent force, which seeks to destroy you, and you have to struggle with it. Only those who are hard enough will succeed. Most people get crushed, but if you fight, in the end life will go, "Fucking hell. This one's serious. Let him through." ”

    ReplyDelete
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    1. Oh dear now I'm thinking I hope that didn't sound patronising: "please forgive the swearing" ! You know what I'm like on my blog and there's plenty of it there - I'm just aware this ISN'T my blog and I'm a guest...

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    2. Not to worry ma'am. No ban on swearing here...believe me just cause I try my best to avoid it in print...don't think it never happens in real life. :)

      I like that actually...and the next time I'm having to pull on a pair of britches on Saturday afternoon I'm gonna remember it. Ha.

      Delete
  3. "My country tis of thee..."

    Now I don't necessarily share your loathing of the pilgrims, but would still tend to agree about the choice of songs. However, I have to admit having a really good time during the singing. I don't often sit in the back pews where one gets such a good view, but this Sunday was perfect to do just that. From my back seat I had a beautiful view of contrasts.

    All around me were folks who I see standing still as stone with lips tightly pressed together during a rousing hymn by Charles Wesley or "Almighty Invisible, God only wise". Not yesterday. They were so animated they were almost bouncing in tune. They were stirred down deep in their souls, letting freedom ring I guess.

    Then there was the constrast that looked like either gnats were buzzing the ears or some kind of other slow painful torture was being applied.

    My kids caught me laughing....

    :)

    ReplyDelete
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    1. Hahaha.

      Don't know how but your comment got hung up in spam folder.

      I saw you laughing at my pain.

      Delete
  4. Cheer up Pumba, soon be weekend

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    1. How could I ever really be in need of cheering up when I'm surrounded by comedians?

      Where you been knucklehead? Haven't you restrung the cans yet?

      Delete
  5. I'm with you, I once launched a weed eater like a javelin. The neighbor across the street was impressed with my form and distance. Anything you spend hard earned money on, and is promised to make life better should not frustrate to the point that you want to go buy a dog just to have something to kick. I'm waiting for your take on the new college football playoff.

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  6. I would blame the Iphone being ruined on Parsons. I know you texted him, to send you a message "POOL".

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    1. Damn skippy!

      If his internets hadn't gone wonky...an unverifiable claim from this distance...I wouldn't be out 200 bucks.

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  7. I did text, but all I got back was a message from a chlorine soaked pubic hair saying: "who is this?"

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    1. This is the problem with being "technically" an American and having an English man-servant...he thinks he's dealing with "new money"...thinks he can goad me into berating him in front of company.

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    2. "new" definately, "money"... hmmm.

      Also Happy 4th of July! I'll be waving the glorious star spangled banner and singing the anthem along you shining bastions of unity and goodness. Demakracy is Alayav agayn!

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    3. You got that right...Demackraceee is alive and well in this country.

      God help us.

      Delete
  8. mmm sounds like me week here. Landlords (friends of my partner and I) are coming to stay Sunday night, so off to play with the garden tools tomorrow. SO not looking forward to it. Im sure the park people next door will end up with some previously usefull tools hurled at them... and yes I swear like and old sailor in real life

    We had show weekend here last weekend, have lived in this town nearly 10 years have never been. This weekend we have a round of the V8 supercar series in town. Then no more public holidays till next year thank god.

    I will be sure to send you a photo of the yard EF :p

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    1. I know you'll be in fine spirits this weekend then.

      Send 'em...I love lookin' at yards that I didn't have to tidy up.

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  9. "No...I'm...Not..A...Boy...I'm...A...Bad...Robot" ...choppin the air with his hands as he's walkin' off into the kitchen. Passin' gas the whole time.

    I forgot to add how much this made me laugh, dude knows his stuff. Crazyparsons approves.

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  10. Might it at least be at worth you TRYING the 'I'm..a..bad..robot' schtick yourself? Or is it really only allowed if you're four?

    MAybe you can just engross yourself in THIS Modest Mouse offering, and make the rest of the world go away for a bit...
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTAud5O7Qqk

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    1. Yeah...he's a comedian (and a robot) like you parsons.

      Kibber...it might work but, it might work too well at my age. It'd get me out of doin paperwork on Friday...forever.

      Tell you how he handled toy pick up last night.

      "You still got a lot toys out there man."

      In a very matter of fact tone...nothing surly, almost politely he explained, "I duwwn kay-urrr abowt that."

      Choking on a giggle, "Well what do you care about then?"

      "I only kay-urrr abowt yaaawull not tellin me wuh-hut to do."

      Like I said...he wasn't bein ugly. He was just explaining his concerns.

      We might have to edit that one into the post.

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    2. Cant wait to hear that one :)

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  11. Replies
    1. He's got one of his little girlfriends comin' over tonight for pizza in celebration of completing their swimming lessons.

      Now she's a little piece of work. It's so funny to watch them interact. He starts most of his conversations with her by shouting "watch this"...and even at three she's already gettin' on to him and telling him to settle down. Which of course is exactly what he needs.

      She won't leave the pool until The Boy gives her a hug...he gives her candy and then brags about how he can take the wrapper off all by himself.

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