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Friday, August 19th, 2005

    Time Event
    1:46p
    the tunnel begins to show light
    Today started out as normal as it usually does. Same old routine that goes on for a normal work day. However about 20 minutes ago I started thinking about what this weekend has to offer. I'm off sunday(the only day in about 14 in a row) so we all know what that means. Saturday night is going to be one wild fiesta...right? of course, I've got plenty of money to blow on party favors, which is what would typically happen. However, a thought occured to me that I have a freakin' date saturday night. Not that this is anything unusual, but this with a girl, who would probably call 911 if I was to bring the things I usually do, around her. She's the girl you watched walk across the stage to receive a high school diploma, and you start questioning whether she even went to the school. Somehow, our completely opposite lifestyles crossed paths on monday night as we were both enjoying margarita monday at the local mexican restaurant...one thing led to the next, and before you know it, I wake up the next day with a phone number in my pocket.
    OK...now this girl is a gymnast, probably never even had a drip of alcoohol touch her skini untill she was 19 or 20...someone I usually would be seen dead with. BUT, something came over me and thought this would work. So right I don't know what I'm feeling, I'm nervous, anxious, almost scared because I don't know how to act around these kinds of girls. Could this lead to a path of corruption and chaos? IT Wouldn't be much different for me, but I don't want to be the one responsible for taking a good girl and flipping her over the edge...wait a minute...maybe I do. Maybe that is the whole reason I'm doing this anyways... I mean, who DOESN'T enjoy a challenge here and there? Anyone can take a normal girl out and binge off kokaine for a weekend, right?
    So, as I sit here, wishing I could be at the local pool hall, I still don't understand what I'm doing with this. Maybe I thought she could be the one that could pull me out of the lake of insanity my boat has been so aimlessly twirling around in. Or maybe I'm just bored with the people that are around me on a daily basis. Honestly, I don't know what the hell is going to happen, but it would be nice to find a nice fire to sit around for a couple months. This could be just what I need.
    4:57p
    I actually smiled
    HOW TO BUY AND INSTALL A GAS CONVECTION HEATER

    An important first step - the most important step of the whole process, really - is to overspend your budget by exactly $243.56. No more, no less. More, and the anal retentive Dutchman to whom you've shackled yourself in the no-other-sex-with-anyone-ever hell that is marriage will explode immediately. Less, and you won't feel bad enough to make the rest of the process as interesting and instructive as it could be.

    So. Overspend by $243.56 on a gas convection heater with a nifty LCD screen and a remote control and two program settings and all sorts of wonderful things that don't mean much to you like "Lo-Nox" and "Cool Touch Convector" and "Doesn't spontaneously combust much." Buy it mainly because the saleswoman is cute and cheerful and her mouth looks like something you could probably spend the next few weeks violating in every way one woman can violate another, and when she says "Lo-Nox" her upper lip does this quivering thing that would taste like honey on your tongue.

    Lose the seven year old somewhere in the plasma screens over the other side of the store while you hand over almost a thousand dollars to the sweet mouthed little blonde with streaks in her hair (she wanted me, I know it) and watch her ass as she carries the damned thing to your car.

    Locate the seven year old, where he sits crosslegged in rapt and attentive worship at a seven foot full color widescreen altar and drag him bodily to the car as he mumbles electronic brand names under his breath. Assist the blonde goddess in putting the heater into the back of your station wagon. Have the following exchange:

    "Do you think it'll fit?"
    "Yeah.. we'll just.. lift this.. and shove this in there..."
    "Oh, getting rough, huh?"
    "They like it that way."
    "Who doesn't?"

    Decide to come back later and follow her home, and then return to your Castle of Marital Bliss and Family Perfection. Have a brief "discussion" with the Dutchman that involves this:

    "Look how pretty I am."
    "Oh god what have you done?"
    "No, really, look at my pretty boobs."
    "What did you... oh lord those are nice... what did you spend?"
    "..I find you very attractive."
    "GODAMN YOU, YOU FUCKING IMPULSE BUYING BITCH!"
    "With great tits."
    "Well, I didn't marry you for your cooking."

    Wrestle the heater inside and hook it to the gas and electrical outlets, as per the crystal clear and non-translated-from-the-original-polish-by-an-illiterate-indian-telemarketer instructions. Gently explain to the two year old twins that having Gladiator battles with the Styrofoam packaging isn't a fun idea. Switch heater on.

    Observe, with dull surprise, the pretty blue LCD flash with "Flame fail. Press reset." Press reset like the appliance told you to, because doing what appliances and wildlife tell you to do has never steered you wrong before.

    Repeat.

    Repeat.

    Cry.

    Put the twins in seperate corners because they were trying to beat each other to death with pieces of the box the heater came in. Blame the Dutchman for this mess, because he interrupted your masturbation last night and if you'd had an orgasm you might not be all tense and frustrated and willing to buy dodgy heaters from hot little saleswomen.

    Reread the instructions. In a moment of inspiration, spend a productive half hour tearing them into teeny tiny pieces and sprinkling them around the heater in a pagan ritual of fertility. Then try and explain this to the Dutchman without using the word "medication."

    Go outside and beat a stick against the wall where you assume the gasline runs. Come back inside flushed and triumphant after beating the wall into submission, and turn the heater on. Watch the little blue screen flash "Flame fail. Press reset."

    Press reset.

    Repeat.

    Repeat.

    Repeat.

    Call the gas company and scream at them for supplying dodgy bayonets. Scream at the Dutchman for asking if you put it in the wall properly. Scream aimlessly at walls and furniture and pets. Sit on the floor by the heater, stare grimly at the television, and repeatedly press "On. Reset. On. Reset." For an hour and a half. Snarl at the Dutchman when he suggests you give up. Mumble something about air in the gas pipe and persist in your monotonous "On. Reset." meditations.

    Start trembling with orgasmic joy when the fucking thing finally works. Gloat. Try to program it only to realise that you need the instructions to do so. Conveniently forget about the teeny tiny pieces and blame the Dutchman.

    Dance around smugly until you're threatened with divorce.

    (Congratulations on purchasing the new Everdure Lumina Convection Cool Touch Lo-Nox LCD Easy Program Spawn of Satan Tool of Destruction! We're sure you'll find that your new heater is as easy to use as the average nuclear reactor. If you have any problems, don't call us. Ever. We don't exist.)

    _________________________
    | |
    | Flame Fail |
    | |
    | Press Reset |
    | |
    | Spontaneously Combust? |
    | |Y|/ N ? |
    | |
    | Combustion in: 10 |
    |_________________________|

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