Thursday, July 12, 2007

The Vegan Macgyver

So I have a little story to tell you today, my lovelies, since I am apparently fucking Vegan MacGyver and shit, and it's way too weird not to share with others.

Anyways, yesterday, my maintenance guy PISSED me the hell off. He'd recently installed a set of really large screen doors out onto my roof, so that the cats and I have half a chance of not suffocating to death in the 95-degree weather. However, when he installed them, I wasn't home, so he wasn't able to access the inside to put on the latch. Needless to say, the past three weeks, I've been emailing him and calling him to see when he's gonna come out and paint the thing and put the latch on, with absolutely no response of course.

So yesterday, I emailed him *AND* my landlord to ask them if it was ok if I just put the latch on myself. I had been trying to hold off on following through on this urge because a) I thought he might want to paint the door first, b) I thought he might've had some particular placement of the latch in mind, and c) I didn't want to be fucking with what is technically my landlord's property without asking first.

But apparently my maintenance guy is Archie Bunker, as his delayed response to my question (which he replied ONLY to me on) was this:

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Wednesday, July 11, 2007 4:21 PM
Subject: hook,

lindy loo, im sorry, i thought you put that hook on, im out of town till next sunday but _____ is ist on the list when i get back.

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Wednesday, July 11, 2007 4:21 PM
Subject: Re: p.s.

plus maybe your boyfriend can help

My immediate response was, "Oh FUCK no, dude, you did not just say that." 'Cause unless your guys' penises come with special drillbit attachments that I'm not aware of, how hard is it to put in a fucking latch without "the help of a guy"?? I mean, I fixed my fricking muffler a few weeks back with some piping clamps and a can of black beans (minus the black beans), so seriously, dude, despite the mighty fine set of boobs on me, which CLEARLY distract me into oblivion every time I'm trying to do something mechanical, I think I can install a goddamn latch.

So last night, I whipped out my drill (teehee) and proceeded to work on a couple starter-holes (teehee). I received this drill as a "gift" in return for having worked at my workplace for five years (it was either that or one of 1500 different items with our company logo emblazoned across the front of them--and given my attitude towards work, the idea of being reminded of it every time I looked down at my watch to check the time didn't much appeal to me), so needless to say, it's a piece of crap. A piece of crap WITH A LIGHT IN THE END OF IT, however. Just in case right when the world is being swallowed up by an apocalyptic maw of darkness, you decide, "Hm, maybe I should give those shutters another whirl." Or in case you *JUST CAN'T CONTROL YOURSELF* until the daylight to do your drilling.

Anyways, despite the sweet but pointless light, the drill bits SUCK MY ASS. About 2 seconds into using them to drill a screw into the door for the starter holes, the Phillip's head screw would no longer be a Phillip's head any more. Instead, the delightful little criss-cross would be replaced by an obscene gaping hole that the bit couldn't even get a grip on to remove. Fun fun. But after a few screws (teehee), I managed to get the starter holes in.

Then came the latches themselves. They are a simple latch and hook set that screws in. Easy enough. But seeing as my Phillip's head screws would only screw in until they were completely stripped (which wasn't very far), neither hole was long enough for me to screw them in easily by hand. It was at this point, of course, that I realized I don't own pliers. Once upon a time I did, but they've been long ago sucked into the vortex where lost dryer-socks go. So...

*Hold onto your pooters and peeners, because here comes the MacGuyver part*

Being the brilliant person I am, I started rifling through my kitchen drawers until I came across my garlic press. (Mind you, this is the garlic press FROM HELL. The holes are apparently too small, so whenever you squish the garlic, it just squirts all over the place (including your hair and your kitchen floor), so I long ago resorted back to just chopping it by hand.)

But all hail MacGyver: I grabbed the thing, AND COMMENCED TO FINISH SCREWING IN MY LATCHES WITH A GARLIC PRESS. And it worked. Brilliantly.

Now, if that isn't just vegan genius, vegan cooking MacGyver motherfucking GENIUS (minus the feathered hair), I don't know what is.

Archie Bunker can kiss my motherf-ing ass.

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