Week of June 25, 2006 to July 01, 2006

I have a crazy neighbor. Not a plays-the-radio-too-loud or picks-up-the-mail-in-their-underwear kind of crazy. I mean honest to goodness paranoid schizophrenia. Our dear neighbor, Kathy, has already accused us of stealing our own dirt from her yard weeds (we share a backyard border and do not yet have a fence).

She has pointed the finger at her other neighbors on either side for tapping her phone, peeping in her windows, coming over then sneaking away while she's in the bathroom. None of these things are, it goes without saying, true in any way at all.

Well... it seems today that I have become the target of her paranoia. She called the police, it seems, to report that I had stolen files from her house. You heard me... files. Those manilla, cardboard things you keep you bank statements in. I'm not sure which files she thinks I stole, why I stole them, or even HOW I stole them but she seemed convinced enough of it to involve the law.

I guess West Jordan's finest didn't take her seriously enough to even question me about it. I heard about it second hand from our other neighbor (the one whom Kathy feels tapped her phones) who is a detective for Salt Lake City.

Chief Wiggum: Cuff him, boys. We're putting this dirtbag away.
Snake: Huh! I'll be back on the street in 24 hours.
Wiggum: We'll try to make it twelve.

"Boy, when Marge first told me she was going to the police academy, I
thought it'd be fun and exciting, you know, like that movie, 'Spaceballs'.
But instead it's been painful and disturbing like that movie 'Police
Academy'."
--Homer

I was reminded at 5:30 this morning that it is not possible to crush a housefly with your mind no matter how many times he dive-bombs your head.

Last Saturday I was helping my brother-in-law Tracey tile his bathroom floor. We had been using a cordless drill to install screws in the cement board floor and mix the adhesive but the job had drained the battery.

Since we had an air hose run to the bathroom for a die-grinder we were using, we decided to connect a pneumatic angle drill and finish the job with that. I disconnected the die-grinder and attached the drill.

As I was tightening the chuck on the drill with the chuck key, I bumped the trigger for the drill. My right index finger, which was resting between the chuck and the key, was instantly wrapped around the chuck and crushed.

My finger throbbed as I worked to catch my breath. I have a tendancy to faint in these situations so I concentrated on my breathing as my sister-in-law, Emily, grabbed a bag of ice.

After a few minutes the pain subsided to a point where I could get back to work. While the finger hurt, it didn't seem too serious. The next morning was another story.

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Shave Everywhere

At the Springfield Renaissance Fair
Homer: Oh, I've eaten eight different meats. I am a true renaissance man!
Lisa: I'll go to the first aid tent and tell them to plug in ye olde stomach
pump.

Lisa's Wedding in the future
Homer: OK, Marge, I'll plan everything. We can have the reception at Moe's.
Wait! Why not have the whole wedding there? We'll do it on a Monday
morning. There'll be fewer drunks.
Marge: Homer, don't take this personally, but I've obtained a court order to
prevent you from planning this wedding.
Homer: [reads documents] Well, these seem to be in order.