Grumpy bitch in the rain

After hiring a friend to do some demolition work in my kitchen in preparation for the arrival of my new stove, I took the afternoon off yesterday so that said stove could be delivered.

Yeah - I said demolition work.

One of the things that naive homebuyers don't realize about buying a 40 year old house is that the appliances, which are all original, are of a size that is no longer manufactured for the general public. So to replace the circa 1967 drop-in range and oven will require either a cash outlay of $1200 for the base model, or reconstruction of a significant portion of the kitchen.

Well, having friends that are marginally skilled at carpenterial efforts, and that are also willing to rip apart a kitchen for a couple hundred bucks came in handy, and Uncle Phil spent the better part of his Memorial Day beating the ever-loving hell out of my kitchen, all so that my stove could be delivered yesterday.

Yeah, about that.

So I took the afternoon off because Suzy had an orthodontist's appointment. Yes, my 38-year-old wife will be getting braces this summer. Thank god the WSOP is getting ready to start up, because I need the work to pay for her extractions and mandibular manipulations.

Yes, I know I'm not getting a blowjob for the next two years.

No, I'm not okay with that.

So I waited for the stove. The delivery was scheduled for between 2 and 6 PM. Knowing as I do the immutable laws of delivery guys, I knew that if i left the house at any point, he would arrive. And I also understood that if I stayed there through the proscribed period of time, it would be near the absolute end of the period before I heard from him.

He called at 5:50.

To tell us that he had loaded the wrong stove on the truck and the warehouse was closed. He promised to return this morning.

Between 6 and 7 AM.

All I do at 6AM is get up to pee. And go back to bed. Except this morning, when I dealt with the delivery guy. So I have a stove, not enough sleep, and a sour attitude.

And it's raining.

Have a nice day.

I need to be in Vegas. Regardless of the fact that I have a retarded friend who is seriously considering going to the state Republican convention rather than Vegas next week. I've been to a big Republican gathering. You might remember it, the party made the brilliant decision to put the re-election party for one of the most polarizing, inept and loathed presidents in history in one of the most liberal cities in the country. It was about 4 years ago. I was there, with all the big Republican brass and Secret Service agents.

I was paid to be there, I was performing It's a long story, and worth a beer.

Needless to say, there's no question where I'd be if given the choice between a Republican convention in a backwoods state like mine or Vegas. Hope T comes to her senses.