Category: Uncategorized

Pool Blogging! – Part Seven

I’m headed home for the weekend. This weekend. Valentine’s Day weekend.

I’m doomed.

Still, after all this time, I have no idea what to do for Valentine’s Day. My Beautiful and Talented Bride™ and I think too hard about everything so the Valentine’s Day endeavor either appears overreaching or wholly underwhelming. So what to do?

I. Don’t. Know.

Maybe we should be really happy that we’re together. Sound like a plan?

Okay, maybe if I add flowers it’ll be a real plan.

Your best pal,

bob

Pool Blogging! – Part Six

I fully know that there are more pressing matters to address, like the status of our friend who had an unfortunate encounter with a tree (last update involves major facial reconstructive surgery, brace to support seven chipped vertebrae, you know, the usual), but I thought I’d offer some pool bits to lighten the mood a bit. Frankly, my mood could use a little lightening as well. I wish I could be back home to help out in some way, but learning about pool construction is where I need to be at the moment. I’m certainly not getting any calls from people who might hire a writer, so if I can cram my head with as much of this as I can, maybe I can once again change professions and make a decent living. Let’s face it, the money isn’t bad (when clients decide to pay), and the work, in the end, isn’t all that hard. Complicated, perhaps, but when you’re in your thirties it’s not too taxing.

When you’re in your sixties though, it’s plenty hard enough. Dad prefers to keep his workdays short—six hours or so, mostly five—then rushes home to take a nap. As you know, there are big deadlines this week and next, so I’m here to provide the support he needs to finish two highly custom, and highly lucrative, jobs.

It’d help if I had plumbed the Exxon-Mobil House correctly. The spa returns through the skimmer and draws through a return line. We fired the pump up for the first time today and blew all of the leaves out of the skimmer basket. You wouldn’t think that it would be a big problem to fix it, but you have to see how tightly I’d plumbed the equipment to begin with. Well hell, why describe it? How about a picture?

See that angled bit that goes from one side to the other? See the pump in the lower right? The intake is in the front and has to go to the pipe to its right. That’s the real return line. Neat, huh?

stupid, stupid, stupid

Not so stupid is the pool attached to the house that I find myself much more attached to. The dark blue plaster was applied yesterday (and we only had to wait five hours for the plaster guys to arrive) with a pebble finish. Mostly black, but with some blue quartz specially colored by 3M and red coral thrown in for good measure. Yep, more pictures:

Granted, even the designer is calling it “a little too candy-ass for my tastes,” but I think it’ll look nice in its setting. Besides, it’s so dark, and the water will be so warm, the homeowner will never have to run the heater. Gee whiz, everybody wins.

I hope.

Your best pal,

bob 3000

The Palm Springs Kennel Club

Driving alongside on Highway 111 in an older Jaguar XJ was older gentleman with one of the most spectacular comb-overs I’ve seen in a long time. His companion, riding in the passenger seat, was a woman in her fifty-teens with a ratty bleached perm. Cue the Westminster announcer…

The Curly-Haired Strumpet is an old breed and can be a loyal companion. She can be fun loving, but her exuberance sometimes requires a strict disciplinarian. She is an excellent retriever, staying close to a millionaire’s side, then bounding to retrieve payments from blind trusts and alimony checks. She also excels in the water and in malls, with a dense coat that repels moisture. There are three Curly-Haired Strumpet varieties, Blonde, ASCOB (Any Solid Color Other than Blonde), and Parti Color.

This is Curly-Haired Strumpet number 47.

I guess you had to be there.

A Quick Get Well Note

Our friend had a terrible bicycling accident and is in the hospital at this moment. Apparently, she had some sort of “tree issue” wherein she and the tree attempted to occupy the same space at the same time. I hope that she’ll recover soon so she can go on her trip to Nepal as planned.

Adventurous!

That’s all I really know at the moment. I’ll fill in more as I find out.

Your pal,

bob

Well, I Learned Something Today…

Courtesy dictates turning off your cellphone ringer in a restaurant, right? (You fools who said no can go back to reading Cathy now. I hear she’s getting engaged to Irving this week, you’re pretty excited aren’t you? Go now.)

The folks and I went out to breakfast, so naturally I turned off the ringer. Also naturally, I forgot about it. Considering that I never get calls and that I’ve only felt the thing vibrate in my hand, when it went off while attached to my hip I was alarmed—Gas? On my hip? I hope not. Squeaky chair? Dried out rattan! Of course. A simple squirm and it went away, for fifteen seconds.

Great baby Jeebus. Am I extra dumb or what?

Maybe not, even though I still have a hard time appreciating the nuance of Marvin, Marmaduke, or even Mallard Filmore.

[What a dullard! – ed You ain’t kidding. I don’t even get Hazel. – bob]

Your best pal,

bob

Pool Blogging! – Part Five

Honey, you have just got to galvanize, know what I’m sayin’?

Most of the facade of the Exxon-Mobil House had been installed today. I snapped a shot for your approval, but photography doesn’t do the thing justice. Firstly, the front of the house is sheathed in sheet metal. That means that there’s sheet metal on the front of the house. Sheet metal. Solar radiation shielding. I just can’t get over it. At all.

Secondly, the front window is actually behind this metal-sheathed panel, so there’s no direct view to the street except through the front door itself. This is a guy who likes his privacy, no?

But I have to say, the pool looks nice with water in it, don’t you think? Now that this is done, the house becomes very striking to me. I think there’s a definite Fifties vibe going on here, but I’m no architecture major.

And this has been the hardest part to explain. “Yeah, so there’s a building that’s really the main house I guess… Um, it’s the living room and the kitchen – sort of – then you open the sliding glass doors, walk across the pool over a bridge, to get to the bedroom and office. Get it?”

I haven’t been able to explain it very well, but you can get the idea now that you can see the bridge. The pool guy hates it (try telling him that he has to vacuum underneath that, in Tagalog), but the homeowner loves it. Our lights are underneath the bridge, so I suspect that he’ll really enjoy it at dusk.

That, or he’ll see all the crap that the pool guy left behind.

Your best pal,

bob

P.S. I apologize for not responding to all of your mail in a timely manner, but the dial-up connection here is fairly poor. I can’t get much better than 38 Kbps out of these lines (and that’s off-peak!), so receiving mail, much less sending, has been a major endeavor. Yes, I admit it, I’m spoiled by the cable modem at home. I’ve been spoiled by the wireless network (which wouldn’t work here). I’m trying to remember what I used to do back in the olden times when dial-up was a way of life.

Stone knives and bearskins, people!

Pool Blogging – Part Four!

This entry is all about pictures.

The plaster is done at the Exxon-Mobil House so most of the plumbing had to get done today as well. That bit fell to me, and, well…

I managed not to mess it up too bad.

“Well, how bad can you mess it up? Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”

I’ll give you an idea how much I could mess it up with this cost summary: Straight two inch fittings PVC fittings are less than a buck a piece, so if I screw up, it’s less than a buck. Right?

Not really. I’ve glued that fitting to something, and that something costs money. Then there’s my time spent doing it wrong the first time, then going back and fixing it, and the material to get it right, then the time taken from the next thing that had to get done on the deadline, and…

You know what I mean.

So because the plaster was done today, the pumps had to get plumbed today. That meant that the filters had to be connected, as did the heaters.

I know, this is less than fascinating, but it’s the way of things at the moment. I try to figure out how to get pipe A to line up with fitting B. To connect power supply Y with load Z.

At least my Dad really appreciates the help. On top of that, my Mom likes that fact that I can do the dishes, make coffee, and heat things to eat in the microwave.

Everybody wins, right?

Right?

Great baby Jeebus, I hope so.

Your best pal,

bob

An Open Letter…

Dear Brent Spiner,

I wanted to write to wish you a happy anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo!

I don’t know what the weather is like in outer space for you, but a certain famous rat here on Earth poked his head out of a hole, saw his shadow, and according to legend, we’re in for six more weeks of winter. I’ll be in Palm Springs all this week, so that means a bone-chilling 64 degrees (that’s Fahrenheit. I know that in space everything is metric, but please bear with me here).

I also hope that you find time in your busy schedule in outer space to have a happy birthday. As you may know, this past weekend marked the beginning of another event here on Earth. It was the start of my own Birthday Holiday Observance Interval. At this special time of year, people all over the world get together and have parties in my honor. There is much celebration, as you might imagine, and this year members of the business community even put together a championship football game to coincide with my Birthday Holiday. I found that to be a very thoughtful treat indeed!

We’re sorry that you couldn’t make it this year, but we hope that you’re doing well. Keep up the good work in outer space.

Your pal,

bob

Pool Blogging! – Part Three

The big push is on to get the Exxon-Mobil House done by the end of next week, but the pool is only a part of it. A key visual element in the design, sure, but there’s much more, like the tin panel on the front, under the eaves, in the kitchen. It’s all covered in tin, people!

In the desert!

Regardless, everyone is feeling the crush, even the job superintendent, who arrived at the site very early this morning. I presume it was long before he’d had his first cup of coffee because he did something they teach you never to do when you’re in Big Time Job Superintendent School…

“For the love of God, don’t run over the fire hydrant!”

The cops were there, as were the usual suspects from from the water department. One to work, one to talk about it, and three to watch.

While the old hydrant seemed unharmed, the water guys replaced it anyway…

…yielding our quote of the day. Dad and I were chatting with the homeowner’s boyfriend, who said that the homeowner was kind of happy about the new hydrant because “the color coordinates so nicely with this [laundry room] building!”

Just makin’ lemonade!

Your pal,

bob

Pool Blogging! – Part Two

Ahhh. Now this is more like it. A house built somewhere in the late 30s, gently redone (Mom doesn’t like the color of the window frames, but I don’t really mind it.). It’s old school Palm Springs, and quite a relief from the former Kuckoo House (now called the Exxon-Mobil House in the memos we circulate here at swimming pool central).

Dad’s redoing the existing pool to clean it up a little, jazz up the tile, get rid of the fountain in the center…

…and convert it into a central spa. Relaxing in your bubbles on a virtual pedestal! How about that?

This brings me to my new, most hated phrase: “water shaping.” What the hell is that, you ask? It’s what happens when you drop water onto other water in some controlled way, or you shoot it in the air in a manner that doesn’t freak out the pets. People used to call them “water features,” but that seems to be relegated to slimy ponds now.

Right?

Your pal,

bob

Fake Art Moment: Here’s my attempt at art. It contains all of the elements I learned about in art class a long time ago. It has flowers, a rusty pickup, a small foothill, and a tiny bird. See?

Pool Blogging!

Well friends, the job in the desert has begun. Whoo boy, has it ever…

First off, something fun. As I was driving into town on Palm Canyon Drive, craning my neck around taking in all the new businesses, I noticed an ugly brown pickup. Okay, maybe “ugly” is too harsh. How about filthy?

Yep, Dad was two cars ahead of me in traffic. At a random time. In a random spot. Why should I call him to get directions to the jobsite? I could just follow!

By the way, the jobsite was at the Kuckoo House!

I think their motto is “I never met an angle I didn’t like!” The facade that you see above in plywood will eventually covered in galvanized sheet metal. No paint, just shiny.

Let’s see, it’s a roughly 800 square foot house over two lots with a semi-attached guest house and a goony artist’s studio. Total? Maybe 1,500 square feet or so. Non-continuous, but I’m sure the next buyer will see the value in it.

It must be an art piece. Somebody’s glory. The calls must be in to the home and garden magazines as we speak (type, whatever. sue me.) How about this headline?

Service Station Chic Meets High Art! A Designer’s Tour d’Exxon…

You editors can have that for free. You’re welcome.

More later (on a much cooler house).

Your pal,

bob

More Funny: Should I ask the owner for the keys to the restroom? Will he think that’s funny? (maybe after Dad’s been paid, eh?)

Howdy Pardners!

I’ll be going to Palm Springs tomorrow to help my Dad install pool equipment. The decision was made by you, the non-phone-calling, non-job-offering public, and I wholeheartedly agree! Dad needs help and I’m not so suddenly available.

What will surprise you (perhaps) is that My Beautiful and Talented Bride™ agrees as well. At least she agrees that we need the cash. She also agrees that my Mom could use a night out. Agreeing that I will make that happen. [I thought that all I’d have to do was fix the power windows in her “quality-assured” Camry to make her happy. Maybe that’s not enough after all.]

I’ll be “pool blogging” for the next couple of weeks. “Pool” not standing for “press pool” unfortunately, but rather for swimming pool. Lots of shots. Lots of moribund observations revolving around the real worker class. Lots of dimwitted comments [Way to sell it! -ed I just don’t want to get anybody’s hopes up. -bob].

You can always send me mail if you want to give me a plum job. You can also hit the Amazon Pity Box on the right if you can’t stand the whining and want to send me a quarter million dollars (twenty dollars at a time).

Your best (and nervous) pal,

bob

It Takes A Village, And Some Two-Stroke Oil, And A Laptop…

Would you rather…

wait in line for tickets to the Great Bubby Girl Show at the Don Pepe Hotel,

or

drive a WiFi-equipped motorcycle from village to village to wirlelessly pick up and drop off emails?

a) Dabadabadaba-da!

b) Communications at the speed of Vespa!

They’re effervescent!

– bob

Thanks to Lileks and Gizmodo!

What Have You Done For Us Lately?

Frankly, I’ve done nothing of import. I haven’t found a job yet (but aren’t those phone calls going to come in at any moment? -ed Yes! On top of that, I’m going to get the inside skinny on the new G6 iPod with cellphone and integrated color movie player!), so my choices are limited. Sure, the calls are out there, but I’ve only heard from a couple of people, and their “good news” ends with “just be patient.” I’ve been patient (in the extreme), My Beautiful and Talented Bride™ has been less than patient, but patient nonetheless. Until now.

The waiting has to end, so in lieu of receiving a credible job offer, I think I’ll be heading to the desert for a couple weeks to help my Dad finish a couple of pools he has in the works. He has more work than he can handle, and the talent available in the desert is a little thin, at least honest talent.

So I’m going to do for him what I would do for anybody, which is basically, anything he asks. What I won’t do, if I am to actually go, is write a Question for two weeks, see the pups or the love of my life, or, I fear, regain any sort of confidence that I can actually get hired again in my chosen profession.

I tasted the fruit of white-collar work and I fancied it. Soldering pipes and pulling wire is a worthwhile pursuit, but I don’t want to end up there. That wasn’t part of the plan, and certainly wasn’t where I wanted to be at this point in my life.

BTW, call me, won’t you? I think you know who you are.

Your best pal in the whole wide world—bar none,

bob

Multi-Posti!

Jeep Commando Blogging

Boring topic for most, but I swear that this Jeep is a laugh riot. Sure, the women and children scurry when the Commando rolls by (not kidding, it happened again today), but our adorable friends in their precious Toyota Priuses (is that the plural?) in opposing lanes actually pulled over when I drove by. That got me to thinking…

My favorite Jeep is thirty-one years old now. Where will the Precious Prius be in thirty years? Will there be replacement batteries and generators? Will they be in museums? Will they show up on the block at Monterey or Christie’s?

I.think.not.dot.com.

P.S. Dear Jeep, Please build me a new Jeepster. Not a Liberty, not an “urban transport pod,” a real-deal Jeep. Take the body off of the Wrangler Unlimited (the wheelbase should be just right) and install some rakish bodywork in its stead. What more do you need to know? Trail Rated. Just do that, okay?

The “I Have A Scream” Speech

This is already a tired subject, but I have received a request, so here’s a link to the compendium of Dean scream remixes. You’re welcome (for what it’s worth).

By the way, the compiler is a Dean supporter. So if you thought I was a right-wing knucklehead… well, um, never mind.

The Gospel According To Job

Okay, not Job, but job. I need a job. Any job that pays above stock clerk wages, please. My Beautiful and Talented Bride™ (she now officially hates that term, by the way) made a funny “joke” to the visiting Unofficial Mayor of Fairyland that she would divorce me if I didn’t get a job soon.

Always making with the “ha, ha.” My belly aches (but not from laughing, as you might expect).

Captain Kangaroo

When I learned at the age of maybe three or four that Captain Kangaroo’s real name was Bob Keeshan, that solidified it. I had already heard from the guy on Sesame Street that Bob was short for Robert, so when I heard that the funniest man on teevee (behind Soupy Sales of course) was also named Bob, I decided to change my name as well.

Sure, when I was in trouble my name was Robert, but from that day forward I was to be known as Bob.

…and Mr. Moose’s perennial Ping Pong Ball Joke was much funnier than the one in Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert.

Goodbye Mr. Keeshan. Thank you for all the fun.

Your pal,

BOB

I’ll Put The Kettle On

Would you rather…

that your Dodge Dart is in the shop waiting for a steering column from Sweden,

or

receive software patches and security updates from a computer 100 million miles away?

a) That’s gonna take a while.

b) Redmond, we have a problem.

She’s almost like brand new,

– bob