I had...

the most noble intentions of blogging about the rest of my day yesterday, but after my end of day experience, I was surely not in the mood. After I finished the great toilet seat repair job, I knocked around the house for a little while, then decided to run out to the local (3 miles away) booze shack for some beer and smokes. I made the mistake of taking the usual route, which dumped me right into the middle of a huge traffic jam caused by the invasion of our town by the fucking apple and pumpkin pickers that swarm here from the scary nether regions of North Jersey and New York Fucking City/Staten Fucking Island. Why these morons have to drive two hours in Saturday traffic to clog up the only short access route from my house to the next town is beyond me. Don't they have apple orchards in North Jersey? Don't pumpkins grow North of the great Raritan? Most of these people have never been West of the Garden State Parkway, they are the ones that befoul the shore towns every Summer to the point where I won't even go near any of them any more, I mean, what the hell, why should anyone from Central Jersey ever want to enjoy our own seaside, anyway? It wasn't put there for us, it was put the for them...
And judging by the clothes that these cretins wear for their "big country adventure", you'd think they were over at the shore or, better yet, shopping at Paramus Mall or maybe a night out at the Bada-Bing. Pointy toe black loafers, iridescent slacks, a black wife beater T and wrap around sunglasses are just the thing for for a guy spending his Saturday afternoon knocking around an apple orchard or pumpkin patch, I guess. The women are just as bad, in their pink and silver jogging outfits, designer sneakers and poufy hairdos. And don't get me started on their fucking kids. Or their vehicles... Lexus SUVs, Mercedes SUVs, Hummers, Infinities, Cadillac SUVs, Lincoln SUVs, even a fucking convertible Bentley... these people could afford their own apple orchards. So, it took me a half hour to get to a point where I could shoehorn my truck into a k-turn and head all the way round, through downtown Freehold (or little Tijuana as it's known these days), playing dodgem with the fucking wetbacks who can't seem to grasp the idea that sidewalks are there so you can walk on them and not get in the way of traffic, nor is every pickup truck being driven by someone looking to hire you to rake their fucking leaves. So, the entire trip cost me over an hour of my time and about 13 miles of out of my way driving to get a six pack of Post Road Pumpkin Ale, a four pack of Young's Double Chocolate Stout and a pack of Pall Malls. Should have taken me twenty minutes, max. Fuckers.
Today, I start emptying the closet under the center stairs so I can demolish the wall that backs up to the living room and start wiring in my radiant floor heating system. Or, I might bake a loaf of bread and some cookies. Don't know if I'm in the mood for screwing around with things electrical.
I'll let you know.

go ahead, make your day...



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