Piano Man Part II

Read Part I Here.

So we left off with me in the garage in my car waiting for Piano Dork to leave.  After a few minutes in the car with the garage door down I start to feel a little claustrophobic/suicidal and get out of the car to wait.  As soon as I get out of the car, I hear him finish tuning the piano with his trademark sweeping finale.  Hooray!  He’s leaving!

Now, our back door is actually a side service entrance that actually faces the same side of the driveway as our main, front door – which we never use, by the way.  So, when I hear his footsteps coming towards me while in the garage, I was not as alarmed as one might think as it was the right direction to get out through the service entrance.  I am still not alarmed when I hear him go into the bathroom right next to the garage door, as this would also be the normal thing to do on your way out.  I do become alarmed, however, when I hear the door to the garage open and realize that Piano Man was coming in!

I am trapped!  There is nowhere to go!  Lucky for me, I am on the opposite side of the garage when he comes in, which gives me the .5 seconds to crouch down behind the workbench, next to the only other door in the garage which goes to our back porch.  This door is closed and swings towards the inside, so I can’t get out fast enough.  I freeze.

Yes, I was now hiding – crouching down and hiding, actually – behind a workbench from a piano tuner in my own garage.  The idiocy of the moment did not escape me.

I hear more steps.  He is coming right towards me! I’m trapped!  What do I do???

“Oh, hi.”

I look up.  He is standing right over me, looking at me  scrunched up against the doorway to the patio. He’s staring at me with a weird look on his face.  I notice his giant briefcase because it’s kind of eye-level with me.  What the fuck is in there, anyway?

So, what exactly do you say when someone catches you this way?  I mean, think about it!  It is kind of a strange situation to find yourself in on a Wednesday afternoon for no apparent reason.   There is a few seconds of awkward silence, and finally I get up out of the silly crouch and say, “Ummm. Hi.”

Now at this point I was literally out of ideas of what to do or what else to say.  It’s one of those moments in life when you just have no fucking idea what is going to happen next.  But, Lady Luck shines her head and Piano Man speaks the sentence that saves the day: “Didn’t your husband tell you I was coming?”

“Hey!  Wow!  No he didn’t!  What a dumbass, that husband of mine!  Having you come over and everything and letting you in the house when no one was home and then totally not mentioning it! Wow – I was wondering who was in the house and was a little freaked out! That’s why I was hiding here in the corner next to the workbench! Well, you know how forgetful those husbands can be, I mean, if his head wasn’t screwed on he’d lose his hat, right?  What?  Oh, this isn’t the back door!  What? You came in this way, though the garden, up the patio, through the messy garage and then into the house?  Well, that’s darn funny because here is the service entrance you were supposed to use! Right over here!  Ha!  I can’t believe you didn’t see it when you used the bathroom!  What?  No, I wasn’t standing here in the garage waiting for you to get the fuck out of my house because I THINK YOU ARE A WEIRDO and by the way, MY CATS DON’T SLEEP IN THE PIANO!”

Well, it kind of happened like that, anyway.  To tell you the truth I don’t even remember because I was so traumatized by the sheer embarrassment of it all.

And now, we can never, ever have our piano tuned again.

A Different Kind of Piano Man

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File this one under: It Could Only Happen to Me.

So we have this cool piano that is basically a “player” piano, but hooked to a server.  This means you can not only have it play cds or play along with songs from a Yamaha internet station,  but it can even play along with certain concerts live, like Elton John, etc.  It’s a pretty cool piece of technology that we have since my husband plays nothing on the piano and I play about four songs, two of which are Chopsticks and Heart and Soul – so you see our limited repertoire requires a computer to play the thing.

So, along with said piano comes appointments from the creepy piano tuner.  I’m sure he is a nice guy and all, but he is way too into the piano and loves to talk to me about it for way too long.  To the point that it starts to freak me out.  (Usually he’s lecturing me about not doing something correctly, like letting our cat sleep inside on the strings.*)  He reminds me of that episode of Seinfeld where the Saab Mechanic steals Jerry’s car because he feels Jerry is not taking proper care of it.

Anyway, it gets to the point that this guy kind of creeps me out so much that I decide I don’t want to be home when he comes to tune the piano, which takes about an hour and is the most excruciating hour of your life. Perhaps this will give you an idea of what I am talking about:

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So I began to just make myself scarce when we had an appointment and my husband would deal with him.  (For some reason, he has a better Annoyance Tolerance than I do… go figure.)  This works well for awhile, until one day it turns out that we schedule an appointment for when neither of us are going to be here.  We come up with the brilliant plan to let him come into the house while neither of us are home.  We call and tell him that we will leave the back door open for him and he can come and tune the piano for an hour.  I go shopping while he is supposed to be at the house.

When I come by an hour later, I spot his car in the driveway and go to the grocery store.  I come back again and he is still in there.  I decide that he must at least be close to being done, so I figure I’ll wait him out in the garage in my car.

Click here for Part II

* For the record – my cats do not sleep in the piano. They know this, and I know this, but Piano Dork insists that they are not only sleeping in the piano, they are doing it on a regular basis.  Um, no.

Seinfeld: Bubble Boy (Not Balloon Boy)

For some reason, whenever I have been talking about the Balloon Boy or his idiotic father, I keep saying ‘Bubble Boy”.  It must be a side effect of watching too much Seinfeld. So, I figured maybe it was a good time to post this little clip for the real Bubble Boy.

MOOPS!

PS: Speaking of Balloon Boy, chalk it up to my old home state to be home to yet another nutball.  And, they live in Ft. Collins no less – home to my hapless Rams.  (And, a hapless Sheriff’s Dept, apparently.)

Inside the Mind of a Woman

Okay, I know this went around a few months ago, but I ran across it again and felt the need to post.  If you haven’t seen it, the gist is this:  A guy goes on vacation to Europe for two weeks, and his girlfriend either forgot, or didn’t understand he was leaving.  The story is told through the emails he received while he was away.

Yes, this is what goes through our minds as women, I am sorry to say.  Oh, and the video is 8 minutes long, but worth it. Welcome to our world.

Enjoy!

A few days off…

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I haven’t been around because it’s my birthday this week and I am taking a few days off to celebrate.  Well, perhaps celebrate isn’t the right word, as I am still in denial over last year’s birthday – but, I digress…

FYI – People who share my birthday: (not a very stellar group)

Keyshia Cole (28)
Ginuwine (34)
Dominic West (40)
Paige Davis (40)
Vanessa Marcil (41)
Eric Benet (43)
Todd Solondz (50)
Emeril Lagasse (50)
Sarah Ferguson (50)
Mia Nair (52)
Tanya Roberts (54)
Tito Jackson (56)
Richard Carpenter (63)
Penny Marshall (66)
Linda Lavin (72)

Worst Commercial Photoshop Ever

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I’m definitely not a Photoshop expert, but even if I tried I could not pull off this disaster – found on the package for the Wii game Pet Vet. I am shocked that this would even make it out of a DeVry Photoshop I class –  let alone on to a real actual product.

I don’t know what’s worse: the freakishly giant rabbit?  The phony orange cat who’s not even in the same state? The fake hair on the Miley Cyrus look-alike?  (or, my favorite line from the Photoshop Disaster site this came from, “the horse with Hitler’s haircut?”)

I’ve seen a lot of bad Photoshop from people who don’t know what they’re doing and I’ve seen some really bad Photoshop from people who think they know what they’re doing – but I’ve never seen this bad of Photoshop from someone who is supposed to know what they’re doing!

Two words:  This sucks.

Photoshop Disasters

Go to your Happy Place

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I’m having one of “those weeks” and it’s only Tuesday.  Maybe it’s the weather… maybe it’s my head.  But, I needed a cheery picture today, so this is it.  A cool vacation ad for the Bahamas from the 50s.  How exotic!

The End of Gourmet Magazine

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This is a sad say in the culinary world.  Gourmet Magazine, the oldest cooking publication in they United States is folding.  Condé Nast chopped the mag in a cost-cutting move along with three other titles.  They only have two cooking titles, Gourmet and Bon Appétit, and they chose to keep BA over Gourmet.  Of course, I get them both, along with Food & Wine and Saveur, but Gourmet has always been my favorite.

The magazine was published since December, 1940. The move comes as somewhat a surprise to foodies, as the Gourmet title has prestige. Or it did, anyway.  Another example of mediocrity over substance in my opinion.

So, We Lost the Olympics

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Wow – even after trotting out the Obamas AND Oprah!  Perhaps if they had made Michael Jordan come as well – or maybe Al Capone’s corpse?  What, the 5,000 Italian Beefs they shipped to the IOC didn’t work?  (Okay, I made that last part up.  Maybe.)

Franky, I’m not crying about it – I didn’t really think that this was a good idea for Chicago.  The transit problem alone was reason enough to keep the Olympics away.  Have you ever tried to drive downtown on a Friday in the summer?  Now add about  a zillion more people and see how that works out for you.  Can you imagine Sox games, Cubs games, Taste of Chicago, Neighborhood Festivals, Concerts, AND the Olympics?  There aren’t enough hot dogs in the city for that…

The only thing that makes me sad is that now I can’t rent my house out for $50,000 and head to Paris for a few weeks as I had already planned.

Groovy Green

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I’ve been working on a post about something that happened to me involving a piano tuner and hiding in my garage, but it’s taking way too long!  It may even have to be a two-parter.  So, in the meantime, here is some eye candy for you.

It’s no secret with anyone who knows me that green is my favorite color.  Dark green, light green, lime green, forest green, grass green, pickle green – I love them all.  In fact, I wore so much green in college that one of my friends nicknamed me the “Forest Green Queen of Mean.”  I suppose because I was such a sweet and docile gal.

Anyway, I found this vintage paint ad from 1968 for this fab color of green.  In fact, this color is similar to the one right here in my office.  This ad is so dokry – not hip with the times at all.  “How else could she have made so much difference so quickly, so inexpesively?”  Nice clunky sentence, Mr Ad Copywriter.  Plus, what’s up with the model?  Yay! My room is green!  Now I’m going to drop acid and listen to my Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band record!

I’m glad to see green is coming back as a hot decorating color – even if it is because of the word green now connotes the milquetoast ecology initiative and/or healthy mass produced food products.

Viva verte!