Friday, January 27, 2012

Floogin Needs Little People

We went to contract on an apartment.  That's right, the 3 year hunt for the elusive home was completed.  That is, until the cocksucking douchebag owner decided to keep their home after agreeing on a price and having the lawyers start drawing up the paperwork.  We should have seen it coming.

First off, the apartment had been on the market for 2 years.  It's in an incredible building and the asking price was very fair.  The owners had recently taken it off the market, fully renovated  it (nicely too, a rarity) and put it back on the market, asking for less than the last listing.  We were primed.  Ready to go. 

And they pulled the rug out from under us.  My wife and daughter were devastated.  My son, not so much.  I think he's afraid to sleep in his own room.  Wuss that he is.

The fucked up thing is that the family living there now used the excuse that the kids cried and didn't want to move.  The kids are two high school age children, a boy and a girl.  And they share a fucking room!

If they aren't breaking the most taboo of all taboos, I'll suck the crap from a bulldogs ass.

And swallow.

So, these incestuous fuckers take their apartment off the market and ruin our weekend which means I need to fix up the kitchen in our current pad.

It's falling apart and we'd been avoiding doing the work as we figured we were moving soon and there was no point.  Well, thanks to the assholes, I need to replace three drawers in the kitchen.  It's Ikea, which, in Scandinavian means easy to install. 

I do the smaller utensil drawer first, to ensure I am capable of putting the drawer together and swapping out the runners on the inside of the cabinets.  IKEA!  That's right, it was easy to install.  There was one small problem.  The front panel of the drawer doesn't have holes for the handle and screws and, while I have a drill, I don't have a very large selection of drill bits so, for now, no handle on the drawer. 

Then I set out to put together, and install, the larger storage drawers.  This was no big deal.  Until I got to the runners.  I removed them with ease but getting the new ones screwed in place proved to be a chore.  Why?

Because I'm six fucking feet tall and built like the out of shape, middle aged lump of shit I pretend to be.  I spent a solid 30 minutes jammed into this small, box like space, trying to screw the fucking runners into the side wall of the cabinet.  My ankle was killing me and my claustrophobia was making my crazy.  I called to Floogin Junior, figuring that, while moose like for his age, he'd be more than small enough to squeeze into the tight space and do the screwing for me (ok, bad choice of words).  He was more than happy to give it a try but he's six and somewhat spazzy and he gave up as soon as his sister yelled "iCarly is on."

Back inside the half coffin I went.  I tried lying sideways.   I tried laying on my back.  I curled up in a fetal position.  Not because I thought it would help but, rather, because I was suffering from a serious case of buried alive feeling and I was dealing with some other emotions and it was a good place to curl and and cry.

And then it hit me.

I needed a little person.  A midget.

See, they are small like my son but coordinated.  A corps of little people, masters in carpentry, electrical work, plumbing etc would be brilliant.  Imagine, the next time you try jamming your fat ass under a sink or in a cabinet and you can't, you pick up the phone and call the little people express.  They send over a team of little people, in a mini, because, along with it being inexpensive and efficient, it would be fucking hysterical to see a half dozen little people come piling out of a small car.  They get to work, easily getting those hard to reach jobs done.

Now, you ask, what will they do when they aren't needed for small space jobs?  Moron, they will all be trained in the various skills.  They will be master craftsmen, the geniuses of their trade.  So, they can be hired to do the same jobs as anyone else with the added bonus that, when it's a tight fit, they are the (little)men and women for the job.

I need to think it through but I really think I'm onto something here.  I know it sounds like it might be demeaning but, seriously, is it worse than playing Santa's elves or being on the shit end of the midget tossing or, worse, bowling, events?

I didn't think so.


Anonymous said...

The incestuous brood screwed you. Metaphorically. Ironically.

I feel so close to you right now.

Floogin McNoogin said...

always nice to know that some anonymous soul sees it as I do. of course, in the world I live in, that could also mean a dangerous stalker or, worse, a fan.