Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Oh. Crap.

How much does a toilet seat cost? Seriously. Like, 10 bucks? 20? 29.99?

Here in Holland, my family has a tragic history of toilet seats. (If my father knew I was talking about this he'd say "Let's elevate the level of conversation, shall we?")

My first Dutch toilet seat had only half a cover. The previous tenants - my friends - split it in half having sex on it. Really. They should have been ashamed, but they weren't.

So, while I was vacationing in the US with my family, D made some decorating changes in the apartment, one of which being a new toilet seat. It was an awesome one - See-through and full of barbed wire. 70 euros. This was before we had kids together and still flush with money, as it were. I was pissed that he spent so much money on it, but it was pretty cool.

A few months later, D's daughter took a flying butt leap onto the can and broke one of the bolt-thingies that held the seat on. We bought hardware and did our best to cobble it together, but it was pretty much up shit's creek.

In our second apartment together, we kept the standard-issue pot cover, but we were itching for a new one. We'd finally tossed the barbed wire one - reluctantly - so papa went out and bought a bright red one on sale. It was the only colorful thing in the depressing little box of a toilet room. And the peasants rejoiced.

When we moved on to toilet-training V (what a joke, by the way. I hate to admit it, but he's 3 and still in diapers) I saw a sweet seat in a flyer with a dual purpose. The lid had a baby-sized seat in it that closed over the adult one. Had to have it.

Well, that one was so great (and expensive) that we brought it with us to our new house. (Who moves toilet seats? Honestly!) We put it in our half-bath downstairs, thinking it would be of best use there.

Well, I'm afraid the reign of the double-assed seat has come to an end. A friend came over with her two little girls who are both in the throes of toilet training and obsessive (like all Dutch people) and they spent almost the entire visit jumping on and off the toilet. They seriously each went about 5 times during a 2-hour visit.

D noticed the next morning that one of the plastic fasteners had snapped, causing the dreaded "side-slide" when you sit.

I'll tell you one thing, folks, when a toilet seat breaks a bolt or a fastening clip, it's like a horse breaking a leg. You can try and patch it up a thousand different ways and nurse it back to health, but it never works, and you end up shooting the poor bastard.

Any suggestions? We're in the market again...

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Pay the pijper

(Pijper - pronounced "piper" - means someone who gives blow jobs. Time to pay the pijper, get it? I made a funny...)

I didn't pay my cable/phone bill and I am shut off. The company, UPC, is run by a bunch of dickwads. I was behind in payments, so I called, paid what was past due, and they shut me off anyways, while pretending everything was just peachy keen on the telephone. Pijpers.

I am pirating a signal from an unwitting neighbor by balancing my laptop on a windowsill. I should be back up for real in a few days.

All of that to say; sorry I haven't been posting a lot. I'm a big, fat loser. Actually, I'm just a big loser, but I will be a fat loser too, if I don't let up on the Christmas chocolate and crap. What is it about the birth of Jesus that makes us pig out?

Saturday, December 20, 2008

The first rule is...

OK - D and I watched Fight Club last night. I've already seen it a few times. I went to bed early because, well, I was tired. This morning, he told me he hated it. FIGHT CLUB. He hated it!

I think I have to reassess our entire relationship. I mean, what kind of person doesn't LOVE Fight Club?!?!?

"We just had a near-life experience," "I am Jack's smirking revenge." I can only dream of being such a good writer.

IMDB rates it #22 out of the top 250 movies. Almost 300,000 people gave it an average rating of 8.7 on a scale of 10.

I suppose it takes guts to admit you hate a movie that everyone loves. Like in In and Out with Kevin Kline when all the old ladies are sharing their deep dark secrets and one says, "I'll say it right out loud; I HATED the Bridges of Madison County."

(I don't want to talk about not getting my dream job that I interviewed for this week, so this seems like a good way to avoid it...)

Sunday, December 14, 2008

World's Ugliest Dog

My partner just adopted the world's ugliest dog. She is an English Bulldog who was used for breeding and needed a place to spend her retirement. She is very sweet and gentle, but looks like Jabba the Hut. Or like one of those Sea Elephants who roar at each other and waddle around on the beach and bite each other for dominance.

So this is Ashley. Talk about a face only a mother could love. Fortunately for her, I'm a mother...

Friday, December 12, 2008

...And a flashy New Year

The flasher put up flashing Christmas lights. This shit just writes itself...

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Another naked neighbor

What is it with me and the naked neighbors?

I was at the window on the telephone looking out at the bike path where two girls were stopped and apparently shouting to a man across the water on his balcony. They seemed to exchange words and then he opened his bathrobe in the classic "flasher" style. They laughed and started to pedal off when he did it again (and jiggled. Eew).

A flasher. Really? I mean, it's so '70s. And can I get a moratorium on the naked neighbors now, please? WTF?

In all honesty, I laughed my ass off. After everything I've seen and heard and experienced here, it was practically a quaint, retro throwback; a nostalgic flash down memory lane. It's so benign.

My poor aunt on the telephone was traumatized, and when I told a friend, he was concerned that I might be upset. Like, should I be? Am I really this desensitized? Or am *I* the sicko, since I chuckled all afternoon?

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Zee Germans are(n't) coming...

So we still have air raid sirens here. They run them once a month as a test. If you hear them at any other time, you're supposed to go home and listen to the radio, work on your victory garden, collect aluminum foil, and hide the kids under the stairs or something...

Are we really doing this? I mean, really? Is the emergency broadcast system not enough?

It scares the holy shit out of you when you hear it. I always think of the scene in Hope and Glory when they are all hiding under the stairs during the air raid and the daughter says something like "Don't drop it on us, drop it on the neighbor. She's a cow!" Great movie.

One of my friends, the freak-show performer, got a Hitler-style haircut, and wears it all swept to the side and everything, only it's fuschia, and he does things like swing bowling balls from his piercings. I suppose some people would find that offensive, but they're probably the same people that find offensive, so there you have it.