78
R. Linda:
I lost at least 3 pounds of water alone from this heat. I could swear I smelled bacon until I realised it was me! Clothes sticking to me, I was still wet when I decided to get meself ready to go to the fan store. I took meself to the shower (a cold one) and flung open the windows to let the hot air dry my hair. Why? Because it was just me luck, we had a rolling brownout and I had no electric hair dryer. I saved fate the trouble. Quickly, I put some styling gel in me hair and slicked it straight up on both sides to get the ends saturated. My hair started drying quickly, too quickly, and I didn't have time to style it. When I got to the mirror, me hair looked flat on both sides and straight up in the middle. Begorrah me, I looked like Sid Vicious on crack. There was nothing I could do. The gel had dried to a cement-like consistency.
I resigned meself to a bad hair day and with me new look I took meself down to the local appliance store, one Bob's. Well, I walked in and realised Bob's must have power because the AC was working. Seems the power was restored five minutes before I stepped foot inside. Didn't matter really because me AC at home was broken anyhow. The coolness of the store was wonderful, I will say. I wanted to stand there forever, basking in the brisk, refreshing breeze, but I wasn't allowed to. Jack (that's what his name tag said) came over and asked me what I needed. I told him I needed an industrial fan. Two of them.
He asked me the usual what for do you need them and such, and I tiptoed around the reason because I didn't want to be talked into small, quiet fans you place in your window. I saw one model I wanted instantly. It stood five feet tall and four feet wide. I wanted to embrace it and name it Betty, but I refrained. I was drooling as I skulked over to it though. I was sure Jack noticed because he handed me a Kleenex. I didn't care; I wanted Betty right then and there and got out my credit cards, ready to whisk her away. I'd find a way to drag her the two miles to the abode and up those freaking twenty-stone, steep steps.
My mind didn't comprehend the sold sign on her chassis front until I had my arms around her in total abandonment. Disappointment? Every degree of that word permeated me hot brain. NOOO!!! This could not be, but it was, and I was shite out of luck. Some other hot person in San Francisco bought me Betty right out from under me nose. Where be the luck of the Irish when you need it, I ask you.
I know what you're thinking, LOSER. and yes, there is no ring on me finger yet! At this rate, there may not be one at all! They say the longer you live alone, the more set in your ways you become. I need to get some cats. Then I can be the crazy cat guy. Did I really say that? NO, NO CATS. See me brain is overheated and I don't know what I be saying.
All was not lost. Jack harrumphed at me, and I let go of Betty, looking sad and dejected. Me arms were dangling Betty-less at me side, me face gloomy, but me Mohawk was still standing straight up in the heat.
"Let me show you -- these," Jack said, his eyebrows pointing up like he was going to share the greatest secret on earth with yours truly. Bejesus me I followed his pointing finger with me eyes and begorrah me, it was the greatest secret because just behind Betty stood, yes stood two Windblasters 3000! I could have kissed Jack for showing me not one, but two wind tunnel fans, silver they be, all shiny glistening in the fluorescent lights almost blinding yours truly because me eyes were popping out of me head! I whirled around at Jack and declared, "I'll take 'em both NOW."
I paid out a hefty amount on me credit card and was determined to wheel these suckers the nine blocks to me house. They were on caster wheels, for heaven's sake, so it should be a snap. Jack helped me get them out the door after trying to persuade me that they could be delivered tomorrow. TOMORROW? No way, these babies were going home with Poppa.
Ok, I got a lot of strange looks on me way home with me purchase. I sweated like a stuck pig, but I did not care until I got to me stone steps and saw a problem I hadn't given any thought to. How to get them up all those narrow stairs. Lucky for me, me neighbours on the other side were pulling up. They rolled down the passenger side window to ask me what I had. Well, begorrah me, if they couldn't see these four feet in the round fans on legs that made them stand six feet, then I don't know what Vision Centre has done for them.
After some joking about my new look (the Mohawk), one of them, Benny (who prides himself on his bulging biceps), got out of the car, moved me to the side, and took both of my fans—yes, both, I tell you—up those steep stairs like they weighed as much as two golfballs. I scampered up behind him, me house key poised to open the door, and inside we went, fans and all. I was tre's excited, as Andre would say.
Benny left me to set them up after offering to help, but who needed help when all I needed was an outlet. I plugged one in with its back facing the open front door. There was cool air there for some reason, and damn me, I was going to pull it in. The other one I plugged in between the foyer and the living room. Both had remote switches, so standing between them, ready for the blowing of refreshingly cold air on yours truly, I pressed the buttons and nearly killed meself.
I couldn't move in one direction or the other, so fierce was the blast from me two Windblasters 3000s. The roar was tremendous, me baggy shorts were whipping me in the behind and me shirt was flapping out behind me as I realised the fan by the living room was turned up a few notches more than the other and I was being sucked into it!
My heart was pounding, and I could envision meself stuck to the outside of the fan forever. To be found by Nadia a year later, the fans still going and me petrified human remains stuck to an industrial fan. My head aches to think about it.
Another thing, all the cat hair from the Pee Cat was being sucked from the living room into the fan and being blasted onto me as I was being pulled backwards towards the other fan. Dust bunnies, big ones, were in there too, and two disgustingly bigger ones landed on both me eyes, so I couldn't see the controls. I had set the one to wind tunnel speed; the other was already at super warp. I tried to see through the dust bunny goggles where the control button on the one behind me was because it was a small matter of time before I had my shirt tail and baggy shorts entering the rungs and then being eaten by whirling blades. Panic! Oh YES, I was in panic mode when me mouth opened to scream, and a giant Kamikaze moth splatted into it. It must have been sucked in and spat out by the facing fan. There I was, choking to death, the fresh protein being forced to the back of my throat and me gag reflex kicking in.
Things were getting worse because I began to float up into the air like a blind skydiver. I was full of Pee Cat hair, dust bunnies and parts of a giant mothra, and how disgusting was that? I was helpless, floating in air currents, me legs moving for all I was worth, me arms in swimming motion, clicking the controls, and nothing happening because I couldn't find the controls with the remotes on either fan from the blast.
Fifteen excruciating minutes later, I was totally unrecognisable except for the hair, which managed to stay put in its cement Mohawk and covered in cat fur. I was still swimming in the air, trying to reach one hand to remove the dust bunny goggles from my eyes, but the power of the fans was too much, and I could not do it.
Just when I had thought all was lost, another rolling brownout happened. Only this wasn't exactly a good thing. I fell from eight feet in the air instantly, no parachute. Me nose hit first, and me eyes saw the planets and a lot of red stuff spattering on the black granite floor. I even broke my hair! Let me tell you this, granite is hard, and it hurts when one is thrown into it at 1000 mph. That's all I have to say about it.
Gabe
R. Linda:
I lost at least 3 pounds of water alone from this heat. I could swear I smelled bacon until I realised it was me! Clothes sticking to me, I was still wet when I decided to get meself ready to go to the fan store. I took meself to the shower (a cold one) and flung open the windows to let the hot air dry my hair. Why? Because it was just me luck, we had a rolling brownout and I had no electric hair dryer. I saved fate the trouble. Quickly, I put some styling gel in me hair and slicked it straight up on both sides to get the ends saturated. My hair started drying quickly, too quickly, and I didn't have time to style it. When I got to the mirror, me hair looked flat on both sides and straight up in the middle. Begorrah me, I looked like Sid Vicious on crack. There was nothing I could do. The gel had dried to a cement-like consistency.
I resigned meself to a bad hair day and with me new look I took meself down to the local appliance store, one Bob's. Well, I walked in and realised Bob's must have power because the AC was working. Seems the power was restored five minutes before I stepped foot inside. Didn't matter really because me AC at home was broken anyhow. The coolness of the store was wonderful, I will say. I wanted to stand there forever, basking in the brisk, refreshing breeze, but I wasn't allowed to. Jack (that's what his name tag said) came over and asked me what I needed. I told him I needed an industrial fan. Two of them.
He asked me the usual what for do you need them and such, and I tiptoed around the reason because I didn't want to be talked into small, quiet fans you place in your window. I saw one model I wanted instantly. It stood five feet tall and four feet wide. I wanted to embrace it and name it Betty, but I refrained. I was drooling as I skulked over to it though. I was sure Jack noticed because he handed me a Kleenex. I didn't care; I wanted Betty right then and there and got out my credit cards, ready to whisk her away. I'd find a way to drag her the two miles to the abode and up those freaking twenty-stone, steep steps.
My mind didn't comprehend the sold sign on her chassis front until I had my arms around her in total abandonment. Disappointment? Every degree of that word permeated me hot brain. NOOO!!! This could not be, but it was, and I was shite out of luck. Some other hot person in San Francisco bought me Betty right out from under me nose. Where be the luck of the Irish when you need it, I ask you.
I know what you're thinking, LOSER. and yes, there is no ring on me finger yet! At this rate, there may not be one at all! They say the longer you live alone, the more set in your ways you become. I need to get some cats. Then I can be the crazy cat guy. Did I really say that? NO, NO CATS. See me brain is overheated and I don't know what I be saying.
All was not lost. Jack harrumphed at me, and I let go of Betty, looking sad and dejected. Me arms were dangling Betty-less at me side, me face gloomy, but me Mohawk was still standing straight up in the heat.
"Let me show you -- these," Jack said, his eyebrows pointing up like he was going to share the greatest secret on earth with yours truly. Bejesus me I followed his pointing finger with me eyes and begorrah me, it was the greatest secret because just behind Betty stood, yes stood two Windblasters 3000! I could have kissed Jack for showing me not one, but two wind tunnel fans, silver they be, all shiny glistening in the fluorescent lights almost blinding yours truly because me eyes were popping out of me head! I whirled around at Jack and declared, "I'll take 'em both NOW."
I paid out a hefty amount on me credit card and was determined to wheel these suckers the nine blocks to me house. They were on caster wheels, for heaven's sake, so it should be a snap. Jack helped me get them out the door after trying to persuade me that they could be delivered tomorrow. TOMORROW? No way, these babies were going home with Poppa.
Ok, I got a lot of strange looks on me way home with me purchase. I sweated like a stuck pig, but I did not care until I got to me stone steps and saw a problem I hadn't given any thought to. How to get them up all those narrow stairs. Lucky for me, me neighbours on the other side were pulling up. They rolled down the passenger side window to ask me what I had. Well, begorrah me, if they couldn't see these four feet in the round fans on legs that made them stand six feet, then I don't know what Vision Centre has done for them.
After some joking about my new look (the Mohawk), one of them, Benny (who prides himself on his bulging biceps), got out of the car, moved me to the side, and took both of my fans—yes, both, I tell you—up those steep stairs like they weighed as much as two golfballs. I scampered up behind him, me house key poised to open the door, and inside we went, fans and all. I was tre's excited, as Andre would say.
Benny left me to set them up after offering to help, but who needed help when all I needed was an outlet. I plugged one in with its back facing the open front door. There was cool air there for some reason, and damn me, I was going to pull it in. The other one I plugged in between the foyer and the living room. Both had remote switches, so standing between them, ready for the blowing of refreshingly cold air on yours truly, I pressed the buttons and nearly killed meself.
I couldn't move in one direction or the other, so fierce was the blast from me two Windblasters 3000s. The roar was tremendous, me baggy shorts were whipping me in the behind and me shirt was flapping out behind me as I realised the fan by the living room was turned up a few notches more than the other and I was being sucked into it!
My heart was pounding, and I could envision meself stuck to the outside of the fan forever. To be found by Nadia a year later, the fans still going and me petrified human remains stuck to an industrial fan. My head aches to think about it.
Another thing, all the cat hair from the Pee Cat was being sucked from the living room into the fan and being blasted onto me as I was being pulled backwards towards the other fan. Dust bunnies, big ones, were in there too, and two disgustingly bigger ones landed on both me eyes, so I couldn't see the controls. I had set the one to wind tunnel speed; the other was already at super warp. I tried to see through the dust bunny goggles where the control button on the one behind me was because it was a small matter of time before I had my shirt tail and baggy shorts entering the rungs and then being eaten by whirling blades. Panic! Oh YES, I was in panic mode when me mouth opened to scream, and a giant Kamikaze moth splatted into it. It must have been sucked in and spat out by the facing fan. There I was, choking to death, the fresh protein being forced to the back of my throat and me gag reflex kicking in.
Things were getting worse because I began to float up into the air like a blind skydiver. I was full of Pee Cat hair, dust bunnies and parts of a giant mothra, and how disgusting was that? I was helpless, floating in air currents, me legs moving for all I was worth, me arms in swimming motion, clicking the controls, and nothing happening because I couldn't find the controls with the remotes on either fan from the blast.
Fifteen excruciating minutes later, I was totally unrecognisable except for the hair, which managed to stay put in its cement Mohawk and covered in cat fur. I was still swimming in the air, trying to reach one hand to remove the dust bunny goggles from my eyes, but the power of the fans was too much, and I could not do it.
Just when I had thought all was lost, another rolling brownout happened. Only this wasn't exactly a good thing. I fell from eight feet in the air instantly, no parachute. Me nose hit first, and me eyes saw the planets and a lot of red stuff spattering on the black granite floor. I even broke my hair! Let me tell you this, granite is hard, and it hurts when one is thrown into it at 1000 mph. That's all I have to say about it.
Gabe
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