Ok, I'm not a mechanical engineer, hell, I'm not any kind of engineer but I think I have a fair amount of technical ability when it comes to taking things apart and putting them back together again.
This was seriously tested this weekend when all hell broke loose at the Tavern. The dishwasher door hinge decided it had had enough of being in it's proper place and promptly dislocated itself thereby ending all of it's super hero dishwashing abilities. Can anyone say emo? One thing you get used to when having a functioning dishwasher is not caring about using a glass, or caring about washing it.
This is a feeling I like being used to, and it's a feeling I decided to restore by utilizing my technical ability to repair the dish washer to it's former glory. I happily employed the help of the bosch electric screwdriver to rapidly get the dishwasher into it's core elements. I thought this would assist in me seeing the way the italians had put together this beast of a machine.
No, No, No. The Italians clearly didn't ever want anyone to fix one of these things. If it breaks, buy another Italian one, cause there aint no way u gonna get that hinge back to where it belongs. So after I'd dismantled the entire dishwasher, and I'm talking about a lot of different screws all removed from the beast I realized that logic, a screwdriver, and a spare part were not going to solve this little equation. No, it was time for multiple pairs of pliers, sweat, and brute force.
The dishwasher is back together again, there are a couple of washers and screws left over, but it works again, which should keep everyone calm. The mere thought of losing the Italian was enough to sadden me, needless to say, she would probably have been replaced by a Brazilian.
Whiskey Out.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Power Nap
So I've been feeling pretty shit lately... So shit in fact that I haven't been at work and the funny thing is everyone who hears I'm sick seems to immediately know exactly why. "It's all the drinking", "It's the random chicks at Tiger Tiger", "It's all the drinking", "It's burning the candle at both ends", "It's all the drinking".
After hearing these diagnoses from so many different sources I began to believe them myself, and hence decided (Thanks for the persuasion Wine) to consult a medical doctor just to be sure. Since I moved to the deep south from the deep north my family doctor is still the one I visit in the deep north, and this is where I traveled to this morning for my consult.
I didn't think too much of it at the time, partly because I drive through there quite often, and partly because the aircon in the tractor would be a nice chilled environment for some quality "me and my pod time". Before any of you get any dodgay ideas that's ipod ;-)
Although the doctor did confirm some funny medical things wrong with me he didn't seem to mention all the alternatives listed above, and he was sure that a round of antibiotics, some boosters and a quick voltaren shot would have me on my feet in no time. Following the voltaren shot I was back on my feet in no time, however this was short lived as I could feel myself getting cold... and everything starting to fade around me.
I woke up what seemed like an hour later after some of the most.. um.. I really don't know how to explain this... fucked up dreams I have ever had. Apparently I don't like needles, I should probably have told him this before I fell on the floor in a giant demonstration. Anyway, now he knows for sure.
Needless to say it was one of the best 10 second sleeps I have ever had, I would recommend it to anyone who is suffering from a lack of sleep due to "Fill in lack of sleep reason here".
I decided to have a cup of tea after the consult, with a spoon of sugar, to try and get that I'm back on the floor kind of feeling going, cause I felt kinda up there for a little while. Also thought this may help avoid a similar situation while driving home to the deep south, I didn't think I would get such a friendly awakening if it happened while behind the steering wheel of the tractor.
Anyway, seems to be working - feeling a lot better already, but then again this may just be due to the Power Nap.
After hearing these diagnoses from so many different sources I began to believe them myself, and hence decided (Thanks for the persuasion Wine) to consult a medical doctor just to be sure. Since I moved to the deep south from the deep north my family doctor is still the one I visit in the deep north, and this is where I traveled to this morning for my consult.
I didn't think too much of it at the time, partly because I drive through there quite often, and partly because the aircon in the tractor would be a nice chilled environment for some quality "me and my pod time". Before any of you get any dodgay ideas that's ipod ;-)
Although the doctor did confirm some funny medical things wrong with me he didn't seem to mention all the alternatives listed above, and he was sure that a round of antibiotics, some boosters and a quick voltaren shot would have me on my feet in no time. Following the voltaren shot I was back on my feet in no time, however this was short lived as I could feel myself getting cold... and everything starting to fade around me.
I woke up what seemed like an hour later after some of the most.. um.. I really don't know how to explain this... fucked up dreams I have ever had. Apparently I don't like needles, I should probably have told him this before I fell on the floor in a giant demonstration. Anyway, now he knows for sure.
Needless to say it was one of the best 10 second sleeps I have ever had, I would recommend it to anyone who is suffering from a lack of sleep due to "Fill in lack of sleep reason here".
I decided to have a cup of tea after the consult, with a spoon of sugar, to try and get that I'm back on the floor kind of feeling going, cause I felt kinda up there for a little while. Also thought this may help avoid a similar situation while driving home to the deep south, I didn't think I would get such a friendly awakening if it happened while behind the steering wheel of the tractor.
Anyway, seems to be working - feeling a lot better already, but then again this may just be due to the Power Nap.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Repeat Performance?
One would think "WE" would learn. No. "WE" wouldn't. It appears to me that this is happening again, It's Thursday night, We are pre intoxicated and we are heading to Student Night at Tiger. WTF are we thinking? I HAFC! Will we regret this tomorrow, definitely! Will we vow never to do this again, Probably. Will it happen again next week? Possibly.
You see it appears we don't seem to learn from these valuable lessons life seems to throw at us. Perhaps we should be looking to life for the answers, instead of drowning them out with yet another double whiskey.
No. No. No. Tonight we have the addition of Vodka to the troops, Wine seems in good spirits and even Soda is joining us. Can one refust to go out with this entourage, NEVER. Add to this the good spirits of the youngsters already out there enjoying student night, and the other half of the board, reluctant yet still up for a challenge. It is a recipe for success, if not delirium, and hey, if that's what gets me to sleep tonight, so be it.
WGRFN!
Whiskey Out!
You see it appears we don't seem to learn from these valuable lessons life seems to throw at us. Perhaps we should be looking to life for the answers, instead of drowning them out with yet another double whiskey.
No. No. No. Tonight we have the addition of Vodka to the troops, Wine seems in good spirits and even Soda is joining us. Can one refust to go out with this entourage, NEVER. Add to this the good spirits of the youngsters already out there enjoying student night, and the other half of the board, reluctant yet still up for a challenge. It is a recipe for success, if not delirium, and hey, if that's what gets me to sleep tonight, so be it.
WGRFN!
Whiskey Out!
Monday, January 15, 2007
Turning Wine into Nothing
Most people who were subjected to the horror of Sunday School back in the day have heard about the miracle of turning water into wine. Well my eyes were recently opened to a miracle of sorts, or something so incredible that I never believed it possible!
Last Thursday evening saw Whiskey and Wine, along with a couple of other friends heading out to Tiger Tiger after an initial bout of drinks somewhere else, I think, I can't remember too clearly the exact circumstances. Anyway, that will all pale into insignificance when the true story comes to the fore.
For me it was rather enlightening, as I have only ever been to Toiger once before, and it was a bloody good night - which means I can't remember what the place looked like. So besides me for the first time realising what the inside of the place looked like, Wine decided that tonight was an exceptionally good night to celebrate something... Wine if you know or remember what it was please let me know, as I am interested as to what motivates you to go these levels...
Another reason this evening was bound to be like no other was the fact that the other half of "The Board" was present, and as always this results in an exceptional amount of drinking, schmoozing, spading and then some more drinking.
The night proceeded well with Wine pushing the random shooter generator button at the shooter bar. For those of you who have not yet been tainted by this work of Satan it is a button that can be pressed which starts off a gambling style flashing of lights above the shooter bar. A hunjid points to anyone who realizes why Whiskey and Wine appreciate this concept. So these lights all flash in sequence and eventually land on a particular shooter, there is also a light for free round... Wine, in his state, repeatedly pushed this button until the light landed upon free round... at which stage everyone indulged in a suitcase, and I'm not talking about the one you pack for a trip far away.
The shooters kept coming, we kept drinking, Mr Rocker kept refusing, and things began to head into the pear shape to which we have become accustomed. I called it at 01:30 and being the nice guy that I am offered a lift home to Wine, Wine Refused. Period.
I made my way to The Tavern, somehow, somewhere, and proceeded to pass out. I awoke in the morning to a very bleary eyed Soda, which is strange I thought to myself, as Soda was not out drinking till 01:30. The story began to unravel, as I stumbled through to the Kitchen I felt a sense of euphoria which can only be the result of the level of alcohol in my bloodstream still being over the limit. Soda proceeded to enlighten me as to what happened during the time that I made to The Tavern and the present.
"I got woken up at bloody 3 AM by Wine ringing the doorbell... Three times..." Strange I thought, I never heard a thing. Wine then didn't recognize Soda while he was hanging on the garden gate, shouting "Who is it?, Who is it?". Turns out Wine caught a Taxi from Tiger to The Tavern, which would have been fine under normal circumstances, as the Pit of Satan known as Tiger is only about four or five kilometres away. Turns out Wine couldn't pay for the taxi, so the unboozed clear mind of Soda was required to think fast and act in this situation. Turns out the Taxi cost R100. Turns out Wine didn't know where The Tavern was, or how to get there. Turns out the taxi driver had to drive round in circles for 20 minutes.
So with our combined wisdom Soda and myself decide to wake Wine to begin the Sobering process, which hearing about the events from the night before we knew may take a while. Wine stumbled out of his room fully clothed after our trying to wake him, muttering words which, well.. were rather creative in their use and as Wine stumbled through the house bouncing against the walls it all began to make sense. It wasn't only the fact that he was so inebriated that he didn't know the day of the week but also the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses and thus couldn't tell a door from a wall, or a wall from a door as the case was.
This brought out an interesting debate in that Soda began to realize that this may have been the cause of all the confusion during the middle of the night. Wine couldn't tell which house was The Tavern to the taxi driver, couldn't recognize Soda, and couldn't get undressed before passing out on, luckily for him, his own bed.
A great relief sunk upon us as we realized that Wine hadn't in fact got so remarkably drunk that he had actually permanently lost his vision, and ability to recognize voice, but he just wasn't wearing his glasses!
This brought about the next problem, where were they? Not a problem, we could ask Wine himself. Actually, NO! Wine was still stuck on the "Oh Vok, Never drinking again... Ek voel nie goed nie" record. Which, is no great surprise, we've heard this all before. It also began to dawn on Wine, with a small amount of prompting from Soda, that he had no Phone, Wallet or glasses.
Wine's language actually managed to progress to a new level after this, thank heavens there were no impressionable minds around, as this would have created some questions.
In my sober state it suddenly dawned on me that all our answers would be held by the other half of The Board, and being 08:00 AM I was sure I would get a coherent response, alas to no avail. The question was was met by the sound of resounding laughter, followed by a question: "Was he bloody mugged?"
The research would have to continue elsewhere, Soda left me to look after Wine, and headed off to work. Wine progressed well, managed to take a shower, and get dressed. I decided to allow a bit more time for the effects to where off while Wine practiced his newly discovered colourful vocabulary.
During this period Soda notified me that he had sourced Wine's spectacles. It was discovered that Wine had taken them off as this was the only way he was going to stop drinking. This clear and coherent thought pattern clearly highlights Wine's great ability to think while tanked. So Wine pawns them off to the first women he stumbles into, refusing to take them back. Thank the holy heavens this person knew another person who was affiliated with someone else we were with. And the glasses ended up with him. 1 down, 2 to go.
Cell phone and wallet still AWOL. Sobriety Status: Far from it. So we head into work, Wine stumbles around and starts chatting on IM, partly because that's what he does, and partly because that's about all he was capable of at this point. Turns out that someone on his phone and IM contact list, how's this for coincidence received a phone call at 03:30 from a random guy off Wine's phone, letting her know that he had Wine's phone.
To cut a long story short Wine had once again applied his flawless Tanked logic to a simple situation: Having run out of booze and money he traded his wallet and phone to the bartender for a beer. Good logic. I don't deny it. Flawless.
In the end all was recovered, and Wine's adamant desire to never drink again was ended by a trip to Dossier, where all became well again. But that's another story, for another post, and another empty promise.
Whiskey Out!
Last Thursday evening saw Whiskey and Wine, along with a couple of other friends heading out to Tiger Tiger after an initial bout of drinks somewhere else, I think, I can't remember too clearly the exact circumstances. Anyway, that will all pale into insignificance when the true story comes to the fore.
For me it was rather enlightening, as I have only ever been to Toiger once before, and it was a bloody good night - which means I can't remember what the place looked like. So besides me for the first time realising what the inside of the place looked like, Wine decided that tonight was an exceptionally good night to celebrate something... Wine if you know or remember what it was please let me know, as I am interested as to what motivates you to go these levels...
Another reason this evening was bound to be like no other was the fact that the other half of "The Board" was present, and as always this results in an exceptional amount of drinking, schmoozing, spading and then some more drinking.
The night proceeded well with Wine pushing the random shooter generator button at the shooter bar. For those of you who have not yet been tainted by this work of Satan it is a button that can be pressed which starts off a gambling style flashing of lights above the shooter bar. A hunjid points to anyone who realizes why Whiskey and Wine appreciate this concept. So these lights all flash in sequence and eventually land on a particular shooter, there is also a light for free round... Wine, in his state, repeatedly pushed this button until the light landed upon free round... at which stage everyone indulged in a suitcase, and I'm not talking about the one you pack for a trip far away.The shooters kept coming, we kept drinking, Mr Rocker kept refusing, and things began to head into the pear shape to which we have become accustomed. I called it at 01:30 and being the nice guy that I am offered a lift home to Wine, Wine Refused. Period.
I made my way to The Tavern, somehow, somewhere, and proceeded to pass out. I awoke in the morning to a very bleary eyed Soda, which is strange I thought to myself, as Soda was not out drinking till 01:30. The story began to unravel, as I stumbled through to the Kitchen I felt a sense of euphoria which can only be the result of the level of alcohol in my bloodstream still being over the limit. Soda proceeded to enlighten me as to what happened during the time that I made to The Tavern and the present."I got woken up at bloody 3 AM by Wine ringing the doorbell... Three times..." Strange I thought, I never heard a thing. Wine then didn't recognize Soda while he was hanging on the garden gate, shouting "Who is it?, Who is it?". Turns out Wine caught a Taxi from Tiger to The Tavern, which would have been fine under normal circumstances, as the Pit of Satan known as Tiger is only about four or five kilometres away. Turns out Wine couldn't pay for the taxi, so the unboozed clear mind of Soda was required to think fast and act in this situation. Turns out the Taxi cost R100. Turns out Wine didn't know where The Tavern was, or how to get there. Turns out the taxi driver had to drive round in circles for 20 minutes.
So with our combined wisdom Soda and myself decide to wake Wine to begin the Sobering process, which hearing about the events from the night before we knew may take a while. Wine stumbled out of his room fully clothed after our trying to wake him, muttering words which, well.. were rather creative in their use and as Wine stumbled through the house bouncing against the walls it all began to make sense. It wasn't only the fact that he was so inebriated that he didn't know the day of the week but also the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses and thus couldn't tell a door from a wall, or a wall from a door as the case was.
This brought out an interesting debate in that Soda began to realize that this may have been the cause of all the confusion during the middle of the night. Wine couldn't tell which house was The Tavern to the taxi driver, couldn't recognize Soda, and couldn't get undressed before passing out on, luckily for him, his own bed.A great relief sunk upon us as we realized that Wine hadn't in fact got so remarkably drunk that he had actually permanently lost his vision, and ability to recognize voice, but he just wasn't wearing his glasses!
This brought about the next problem, where were they? Not a problem, we could ask Wine himself. Actually, NO! Wine was still stuck on the "Oh Vok, Never drinking again... Ek voel nie goed nie" record. Which, is no great surprise, we've heard this all before. It also began to dawn on Wine, with a small amount of prompting from Soda, that he had no Phone, Wallet or glasses.
Wine's language actually managed to progress to a new level after this, thank heavens there were no impressionable minds around, as this would have created some questions.
In my sober state it suddenly dawned on me that all our answers would be held by the other half of The Board, and being 08:00 AM I was sure I would get a coherent response, alas to no avail. The question was was met by the sound of resounding laughter, followed by a question: "Was he bloody mugged?"
The research would have to continue elsewhere, Soda left me to look after Wine, and headed off to work. Wine progressed well, managed to take a shower, and get dressed. I decided to allow a bit more time for the effects to where off while Wine practiced his newly discovered colourful vocabulary.
During this period Soda notified me that he had sourced Wine's spectacles. It was discovered that Wine had taken them off as this was the only way he was going to stop drinking. This clear and coherent thought pattern clearly highlights Wine's great ability to think while tanked. So Wine pawns them off to the first women he stumbles into, refusing to take them back. Thank the holy heavens this person knew another person who was affiliated with someone else we were with. And the glasses ended up with him. 1 down, 2 to go.
Cell phone and wallet still AWOL. Sobriety Status: Far from it. So we head into work, Wine stumbles around and starts chatting on IM, partly because that's what he does, and partly because that's about all he was capable of at this point. Turns out that someone on his phone and IM contact list, how's this for coincidence received a phone call at 03:30 from a random guy off Wine's phone, letting her know that he had Wine's phone.
To cut a long story short Wine had once again applied his flawless Tanked logic to a simple situation: Having run out of booze and money he traded his wallet and phone to the bartender for a beer. Good logic. I don't deny it. Flawless.
In the end all was recovered, and Wine's adamant desire to never drink again was ended by a trip to Dossier, where all became well again. But that's another story, for another post, and another empty promise.
Whiskey Out!
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