March 12, 2010
Home Improvement
Around the first of the year, we noticed some rotting wood at the bottom of the French doors in our living room. Daryl, in his usual master crafstman manner, slapped silver duct tape on it. It looks as elegant as you would imagine, and was prominently on display during each of the February visits from fellow flockers Sheila, Deron, Amy, and Phil.
So today I am making a special trip to Big Lots to purchase a roll of white duct tape. Because, look–I have my standards.
comments
Leave a Reply
I love Big Lots, but they don’t have them out here.
I love it too, Dave. In fact, I developed a psychological disorder when Big Lots had cans of organic yellow tomatoes for 35 cents. I bought about 100 cans over the course of several weeks. This was years ago, and I still have some of them. I expect to come home one day to find that they’ve exploded.
Oooooooh, Big Lots.
sos! I actually didn’t see that. must have been the margaritas.
Well, I’m pleased but surprised that you didn’t see it. It’s all I see in that room.
Those were damn good margaritas, though.
I was gazing into the kitchen, trying to catch a glimpse of your chilaquiles.
It makes me so happy that you like my chilaquiles, Sheilababy. Some people think they taste like dirt.
Such sadly ignorant judgments I wipe from the bunghole of informed opinion with papel para mi culo.
Sheila said bunghole.
Deron, this is a good day.
stellar.
as were the chilaquiles.
Cindy, your mole is semen of the gods.
Or perhaps santorum of the gods.
I knew it would take a turn….
I lie in wait. I live to embellish.
Sheila, from my limited experience with you I don’t see you as an embellisher. I see you more as a conjurer — in the sense that particular details may be withheld which allow for delicious possibilities in the mind of the listener. I see you more as a magician.
She’s a gypsy, she is.
A quite fetching gypsy, at that.
Gypsies stole my mother’s nice New England baby girl (Villager skirt-and-sweater sets, Ladybug and Papagallo) and left me in that baby’s place.
They can be like that. They have caravans, you know.
I’m about to leave for lunch with Daryl, then the promised trip to Big Lots. If they don’t have white duct tape, I will have to devise another plan. We must remain flexible in life.
Cindy how does one pronounce “chilaquiles”? I always stumble over that word.
Cindy, don’t even bother looking for socks at Big Lots.
Michael, the first two syllables sound kind of like my name — but with a more propulsive start.
she-la-ki-les or cheel-uh-key-lis,depending on your accent. Emphasis on first and third syllables.
Or if you have Daryl’s accent–chilly killies.
I buy my panties at Big Lots. I’m not kidding.
I buy my clothes from Europe and my panties from Big Lots. I’m a complicated woman.
Really, I’m going now.
Watch out the gypsies don’t bind you with your own white duct tape and ab-duct you to their gypsy encampment. You could wind up like me.
Jeez, Cindy. I buy my panties from England and France and half of my outer clothes from Wal-Mart.
That’s half. Not all.
I think I’ll go with chilly killies.
Cindy, I need to catch up with this thread, but, I’d like to say from the outset that your chilaquiles were the best I had ever sampled and I’ll tell you something else, you can cook as well!
Okay, now I have that off my chest I can set to the rest of the thread!
Much can be conjured on all fours, Sheila is testament to that – the odd snort of course helps.
Back to the duct tape – I saw no evidence of any. Like Deron said we were distracted with the strongest motherfucking margaritas this side of the moon. Add to that wonderful company, conversation and food and suddenly duct tape isn’t really on the mind.
Well, it’s still on my mind, because Big Lots had none. They had blue and yellow, for god’s sake, but no white. They were also out of my favorite panties (the seamless kind that don’t ride up). I got some nice plastic Easter eggs shaped like insects and the shampoo Mia likes because it smells like Play Doh, but in general it was a disappointing trip.
And thank you, Phil. Although I would reckon that my chilaquiles were the best you’ve tasted because they are the only ones you’ve tasted!
I don’t see the point of making a weak margarita. Those might have been just a tad too strong, though. Come back and I’ll try again.