At various times, he has collected old refrigerators, bicycles in various stages of disrepair, a decapitated deer head, dead lawnmowers, a leaky boat and a skeletonized Volkswagen. And during each of these times, the collections have driven me up the wall. It was selfish on my part, because I had hoped to one day sell my house and could envision a potential buyer pulling up and spotting a bloody, decapitated deer head impaled on a broomstick; and driving off in terror.
But then, Jan and I decided that we really did like this area, the kids had told us they were going to stay in the Chicagoland area and we decided that we had put too much work in the house to start over again. So, we decided to stay put until the end of days.
And now, thankfully, Hillbilly Ron doesn't bother me anymore. Case in point; the other day I was out in the yard and overheard HR's wife screaming at him to get rid of some of the shit in the garage so she could at least park one car in it. "Ha-ha", I thought to myself, when Hell freezes over. However, the very next day, I looked out of my study window and saw this:
Fifteen Square Feet of Crap Equals Room for One Car in the Garage!
In the past, I would have clapped my hand to my face in a comical gesture and seethed. But, I just sat back in my chair, and continued reading my copy of "Fifty Shades of Gray", not giving it a second thought.
And then, yesterday, Jan and I were returning from an errand, and when we pulled into driveway, we looked next door and saw this:
Of Course it Doesn't Run ...
Jan tried to bait me by gasping "Oh my God, what the hell is he doing now?" I thought about it a couple of seconds and then said "Eh, he just likes to tinker."
I don't know what's happening to me, but all of a sudden I've become very mellow. Perhaps it was turning 60 that did it. I doubt I'd even bat an eyelash if I walked out this afternoon and saw a decapitated bloody deer head in the front seat and an old, rusty refrigerator in the back.
And speaking of Charmin toilet paper commercials ... these things are starting to run off the rails. Especially with these fucking blue and pink bear cartoony ones. At first they weren't too bad ... cute almost. A blue bear walks up to a tree with a roll of Charmin, places it on a limb and presumably does his business behind a tree. Kinda cute ... a "does a bear shit in the woods?" thing.
But then, the cartoony bears supposedly bought a house, so now they have a toilet and have started really getting into poo. In an earlier commercial, Momma Bear checks out Juniors ass when he comes out of the bathroom for flecks of toilet paper, indicating that he used Brand X instead of Charmin. In a later, more graphic commercial, Junior is actually sitting on the can rolling off reams of toilet paper to clean his ass. Momma and Poppa Bear give him holy hell to only use one square, when any sane person knows that if you ACTUALLY do that, your fingers are going to punch right through the paper and you're going to get shit all over your fingers.
And then ... this morning I'm sitting at the table eating eggs and sausage when the latest Charmin commercial airs showing Momma Bear sorting her dirty laundry and checking out Junior's underwear for SKID MARKS! And ... SHE DOESN'T LOOK PLEASED! I looked down at my breakfast and lost my appetite, sort of like when you're out to dinner and you're digging into a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and your dinner companion starts talking about how her dog has worms and she knows this because she saw them wriggling around in his shit.
Yeah, kind of like that.
Well, for my money, this bear and toilet paper crap has to end. Charmin needs to go back to that moderately attractive housewife who looks like she's having an orgasm while she's rubbing a roll of TP on her cheek. That was much classier.
Like I said, I get more mellow every day.