Monday, May 31, 2004
Day 3: The Neighbors are Talking....
There are lots of things that suck about living in a neighborhood where the houses are mad crazy close together. For example, when my neighbor decided to paint her house "bright fucking pink" (this is an actual shade, I swear...), my room got new, pink, natural lighting from the reflection off her hosue. Or like, when my zany Swedish neighbor decided she needed to tan her WHOLE body... well... let's just say we knew.
Living in close quarters can be cool, too, though. Everyone knows everyone and everyone knows what everyone else is up to.
So, I wasn't completely surprised today when, about an hour into digging, I thought I heard, "Dig! A! Hole!" coming from across the street.
"That can't be what she just yelled..." I thought.
Then I heard it.
"Kerry's digging a hole!" "Yeah, we're gonna go look!"
The rumor mill had begun to spin. Moments later, two middle-aged women (MAWs) poked their heads over the fence.
MAW1: "Kerry! Where are ya?"
me: "Down here." (in the hole, werd)
MAW2: "I told you she was digging a hole. Kerry, why are you digging a hole?"
me: "A pond."
MAW1: "You're a real pisser Kerry. Digging a hole..."
MAW2: "My husband is supposed to be digging a hole in our yard. He still hasn't dragged his lazy butt outside, and here's Kerry, digging a hole."
MAW1: "A big ass hole."
MAW2: "Kerry, if you dig me a hole, you can use the pool all summer."
(Note: Werd, who wants to start a pond-digging business with me?)
MAW1: "Well Kerry, you're a real pisser, ya know that? You keep digging your hole."
MAW2 (walking away): "I keep telling Nicky, 'When ya gonna dig that hole?'"........."
And so, I returned to digging my hole.
I have new tools now. Like a (drum roll please) PICK AX!! Fuck yeah!
Unfortunately, due to inclement weather, all further hole-digging has been post-poned for the day. I think I fought the hole to a tie today, making my record against the hole: 1-0-1 (kick ass!)
(From across the street) "I saw it! Huge hole!"
Werd, Bloomfield. Fuckin' NJ.
Day 2: Sunday
Holy crap! Everything hurts!
Okay, so when I woke up Sunday morning, I was feeling less-than-hole-arific. (Everyone does sometimes.) Luckily, my dad needed a wingman for a 9 hour round-trip day-trip to see my grandad. As I hope many will agree, I am a wicked good wingman.
Being the wingman consists of: getting sunglasses out of a bag, working the radio, and taking hits for the team, and by team, I mean the driver. For example:
Dad: Kerry, could you open that bottle of seltzer?
Me: K, Dad.
Dad: Do it sloooooowly.
Me: I know Dad.
Seltzer: Fuck you Kerry! (BOOM!)
At which point, in a panic, rather than CLOSE the bottle, which would have been the intelligent BA-wielding thing to do, I wrapped my body around it so that the seltzer would only explode on me, the ever-suffering wingman (wing person).
Dad: They let you graduate college?
Scary isn't it?
Another duty of the wingman is to fiddle with the radio. A good wingman is never satisfied until they have run through the dial several times. For the record, there is NOTHING to listen to between my house and my grandfather's house. In fact, in one section of the drive, there literally is "nothing", not even static. I *did* manage to find the FOXWORTHY COUNTDOWN OF AWESOMENESS! (I added the "of awesomeness".) It featured songs like "Redneck Woman" ("I leave my xmas lights on all year, i'm a redneck woman! All my redneck ladies say, HELL YEAH!"), "Girls Gone Wild" by Travis Tritt (I *so* plan on downloading this!), and "It's 5 O Clock Somewhere" ("It's only 12:18, but I don't care.... It's 5:00 somewhere").
Seeing my grandad was pretty chill. We watched the Red Sox game. They won (woot!).
Then, it was BACK IN THE CAR! for the 4.5 hour return journey.
I chilled with some Bloomfield peeps in the evening (slash/ early morning) which was a nice reminder that Wesleyan and all things related are insane. The end result was that I got to shift my friend's pickup truck home (with plans to actually learn how to drive it in the future hopefully) and made tentative arrangements to play paintball with my Navy friend and some Marines who just got off a boat in the city. I think I'll lose that match... =)
Anyhoo, these were all the ways I did NOT dig a hole on Sunday. Monday dawns bright and overcast.
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Day 1: The Hole Begins
Correct me if these stats are wrong but.....
20% of Wesleyan University graduates go on to further education...
20% go on to enter the workforce....
But what happens to the other 60%?!?!
This. Is their story...
So, this is the blog about me digging a big fucking hole in my backyard... which has EVERYTHING to do with my BA in government from Wes. No, really. Like, we dug a big hole in Iraq. And... um.... hopefully the Kerry campaign won't dig itself into a hole.... yeah... There are lots of digging a hole metaphors. =D
One can only hope that me digging a hole is not a metaphor for me living at home again with no career plans... That would make the hole digging process a lot less inspiring and a lot more depressing... So forget that metaphor. It sucks.
Why am I digging a hole, you ask? Well, we have this one teeny pond (like 3 feet wide kinda thing) with this big arse fish. This fish needs more space. Currently, it can only spin around at the botom of the pond while stray cats poke at it. Bad scene.
So I am digging a new pond. My dad is psyched cause he has wanted to dig a new pond for two years. I figured it could be a cool bonding thing and like, a spiritual digging thing...and other things... yeah...
My dad marked out the pond boundaries. Then he said encouraging things like this:
Mom: "Wow, Kerry's making a lot of process with that hole."
Dad: "Yeah, but she still has 500 pounnds of dirt to move. One shovel-full at a time."
He was helpful today though. He's way better at axing roots than me. (And using the ax is cool.)
So, I dug a lot of hole today. And I found a lot of worms. Stay tuned for pictures from Kevin's patented digital camera action! (And from when I figure out how to post them.)
At the close of Day 1, I have a nifty sunburn and wicked cool muddy shorts. Me:1, Hole: NOTHING!
Yeah WHAT hole.