The swimming …thing

I was changing into my swimming britches when my sister called out, “there is something swimming in the pool!” I jumped up and ran outside, prepared to slay the moose that invaded my H2O, but instead I saw a helpless beaver/squirrel/rat hybrid mix that was trying his best to keep his nose above water…or was he??

My first instinct was to run inside and get my camera to take pictures of the creature as it did the “squirrelly-paddle,” but I didn’t want it to get sucked into the skimmer and shredded by the pool’s pump and filter. I’m also guessing that the beaver’s/rat’s intestines doesn’t do much for the purity of the water. I stood there, thinking about my next move when a voice yelled “KILL IT!!” That voice was my sister, who was watching the event unfold from the safety of the dining room. I chose to ignore that voice.

I took a long pole and stuck it in the water so the….thing could have something to hold onto, but he didn’t use my help. He swam around the pole and smashed himself head-first into the tiled wall. Again, I stuck the pole into the water and scooped the…thing up. I placed him in the grass, expecting him to run away and tell his friends about his near-death experience, but he was stubborn.

The rat stood up, watched me for about 10 seconds, then slowly walked in the direction of the pool. He jumped onto the concrete platform surrounding the pool and looked at the clean water that flowed past him. Seconds later, in a move of utter stupidity he swan-dived back into the water and paddled his legs like a 13th century speedboat.

I couldn’t have a rodent skinny-dipping in my pool, so I tried to quickly scoop the…thing and throw it across the fence in one swift move. Just as it was time for the…thing to fly out across the fence, he held onto the pole, which caused him to fall onto the ground with a dumbfounded look on his ratty-face. He laid still on his back for about 10 seconds, which made me believe that he was [finally] dead, but as soon as I went in to get a closer look, he hopped on his wet feet and ran away.

I’m mad that a naked beaver/squirrel/rat hybrid mix was the first to christen my pool for the summer, but more importantly, what’s with all of these suicidal rodent experiences?!

I am a klutz

Every major event of my life, from the time that I got electrocuted while trying to add more power to my remote controlled car, to the time when I went to the bank at 3:33am in a T-shirt and slippers to make a bank deposit, was documented in my electronic life, also known as my Pocket PC. I was fully aware of important data that the little device held, so I performed weekly backups, as well as daily computer synchronizations to keep the information protected.

But I messed up.

On May 14 at 3pm, I was on my way home when my Axim chimed that familiar brrinquhz noise (it’s hard to spell sounds) to remind me to back my stuff up. I said to my self, “Mr. Amazing, (because that’s what I call myself), you can just do it later.” “Later” turned into “in three hours,” which soon turned into “Wednesday.”

Wednesday passed and I decided to skip the 2 second backup process because “one missed backup won’t hurt anyone.” But it hurt me. Ouch!

Before going to sleep on Thursday night, I checked my Pocket PC to look at my activities for the following day, but Axim was dead. I found my extra battery and popped it in, expecting everything to work flawlessly but I got error messages left and right.

“Please press the Calendar Button to reset device.”
“Please press the Reset Button to align the screen.”
“Would you like to clear all information? Yes / No
“If your name is Geremy and you forgot to backup on 5/14, you are doomed.”
“This device will self-destruct in 5…4….”

I had no choice but to delete all data in the PDA, but I wasn’t worried yet. I went to my computer to restore the information from my 5/7 backup, but it was non-existent. My 4/30 backup? Vanished. My 4/23 backup? Gone ‘till November. My 4/16 backup? Left on a jetplane. Then it hit me and I knew that I was the maker of my own demise.

A day before the regularly scheduled backup I needed more space on my computer’s hard drive because there was a large file that needed to be downloaded. I looked through all of my existing files and evaluated what needed to go and the PDA Backup folder was at the top of that list. I figured that I’ve never used them in the past, so I can stand to see them go. I have now realized that I have the poorest judgment in New Jersey. As for the synchronized data on my computer? Nowhere to be found. Technology…

I can’t take the chance of this ever happening again, so I am going to get rid of my Axim. Sure it’s like putting your favorite child up for adoption after he accidentally lit all of the family albums on fire, but THAT’LL TEACH HIM!

My Car History Continues

I spent prom night of my senior year of highschool in the hospital because an impatient woman ran a stop sign and wrecked my beloved 1991 Lexus LS400 that I got for my 17th birthday. Months after the incident I was car-less and had to borrow my sister’s Chevy Malibu to go everywhere. My dad, feeling sorry for me and my inability to freely go where I needed to, stepped in on my 18th birthday to fund the down payment of my current car, the 2003 Nissan Altima 2.5s with airbourne capabilities and a 175hp engine that is powered by a juiced-up rat in a wheel.

For the duration of the lease I faithfully made payments and kept her clean, even though she was the victim of 3 hit-and-runs, 2 key-ings, and 6 drive-by hissings. I took her places, bought her shoes, and washed her all the time, but now, her time is over.

Stay with me, I’m going somewhere here.

Once again my dad came to my rescue and discussed his plan to give me a certain amount of money to fund a portion of the price of my next car. He suggested that I take the money and buy a used Hyundai Elantra, but sorry…I’m just not a used Hyundai Elantra type of guy.

I narrowed my coices to three cars:

  • Audi A8
  • BMW 740il
  • My dream coffee colored Lexus LS400

After looking for 10 days, I found THE CAR.

I assessed my finances, came up with a way to pay for the car without selling my body, and then bought it. Now, I am (once again) the owner of a sweet new fully loaded Lexus LS400, the family’s 5th and most beautiful Lexus to date. The strange thing is that it’s almost the exact car that I asked for last year, with the omission of chrome wheels.

Sorrowfully, this story doesn’t have a fairy-tale ending. Due to the money I’ll be paying Nissan for the overage miles and “wear-and-tear” on my Altima, Nissan is predicting a huge boost in third quarter earnings. I will be spending the next few years using my new car as a cab to pay back the Nissan mafia. How bittersweet!

U Maid Me Do It!

One of the newly added perks of being a renter is that I get maid service. Someone told me not to call them “maids” because it’s a derogatory term for a housekeeper, but they know what they are….they’re maids.

Last Thursday was the first day that the maids were scheduled to clean my room and I made it my duty to put them to the test. I emptied my desk drawers and clothes in my closet onto the floor and left money in secretly obvious places. After I strategically set the scene, I went to school for my last day of classes.

Hours later, I got home and saw that the crew was still at the house. Rather than entertain petty conversation, I went directly up to my room and inspected everything with a fine tooth comb. The clothes were put into the closet, the random items were put back into their rightful places, and the money was still there. I observed even farther and saw that they found my laptop adapter, wrapped it up and put it into my desk drawer. Also, they cleaned under the bed and vacuumed my rugs.

But they weren’t perfect.

Right now, my most important possessions are my sneakers, which are typically limited-quick releases, stored in their original boxes to limit their exposure to impure sources of oxygen, while maintaining their original luster and preserving the unique “Nike Sneaker smell.” Unfortunately, the cleaning people (and 99.942% of people in this world) did not understand my unsafe sneaker infatuation and threw the sneaker boxes (sans sneakers) into the trash.

As soon as I realized the lack of a contained living environment for the sneakers, I was ready to pounce. It was like walking into your house and seeing the family piranah out of its tank. These things need to stay in their natural habitat!

Right before I transformed into a ball of fire to release my wrath upon the maids, my mom came into my room with all of my sneaker boxes in her hands. She understands me.

Man, by nature, would attempt to retaliate in some degree when faced with this type of situation, but somehow I retaliated before they got a chance to, um… taliate. My mom told me that while cleaning my room, one maid let out a loud shriek. When the other maid heard the noise, she entered the room to discover the cause of the ruckus. Seconds later, maid # 2 also let out a shriek and bolted out of my room.

My mom asked them what was the problem and they kept saying “BOMB!” She then walked into my room to see what they were talking about and she discovered my grenade in the middle of the room.

Lesson to be learned: I’ll pretend to blow you up even before you think about touching my prized possessions.


Lesson to be learned: My room is da BOMB!