One week ago (sorry I've been off the internet for a while) the Hurricane drove by my friend's house on the peninsula here in Newport Beach. I doubt the Hurricane remembers but he was over their house once, right before we moved in. I had him over to watch some sports and drink some beers.
I distinctly remember him saying to me during that night "hey I hope you don't mind but I'm kind of a neat freak". Yes, the Hurricane actually said those words.
Anyway, we wonder why is driving on the peninsula at all. He has NO friends, no longer lives on the peninsula (I still do) and doesn't work around here. There are no places to eat right on Seashore Dr where he was driving, is the Hurricane trying to add stalking to the Creature From Craigslist resume?
We will keep you updated.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Eats A Steak With A Spoon
All posts after the FINAL POST are stories that I have never written down, but now that I'm putting the blog stories and the others I haven't posted into an all inclusive book, so I'll be posting some oldies regularly that are new to this site.
I wake up early on Saturday to clean the kitchen and common areas of the house, I have some people coming over to hang out and I needed to put in my two hours of work to make the place respectable. Just about every single dish and piece of silverware is dirty, in the entirety of the seven months I lived with the Hurricane he used the dishwasher a grand total of ONE times.
I clean up and sit on the couch for a few minutes and watch some TV. The Hurricane wakes up and starts cooking a steak (in a frying pan) and some eggs. This was his routine on Saturdays during the last month or two I lived there. Watching him cook gives me the mental imagery necessary to understand how the hell he destroys everything. Every time he cooks he fills the entire house up with smoke. About half the times he leaves something on the stove and goes back to his stink caves and forgets about it.
After he has to open up the house to let the smoke clear, like every other previous time he cooks, he is furiously going through the silverware drawer looking for utensils. He finds what he needed, grabs a paper plate and comes over and plops on the couch next to me. It takes me a minute to see what he is doing....
Imagine the Hurricane, sitting next to you with a steak on a flimsy paper plate, laid on over his belly trying to cut it with a fork and knife. But, um, that isn't a fork in his other hand. There were no more clean forks, or dirty forks for that matter since they were all in the dishwasher load I had started. The creature grabbed a spoon to use instead. Cleaver little monkey. I sat there in amazement as he would cut a piece of steak, put it on the spoon and scoop it into his mouth. He was happy as can be completely oblivious to the ridiculousness of the situation.
I tried over and over to get a picture of video of what was happening 18 inches from me but in great disappointment could never get a good shot.
The best part? It wasn't a normal tablespoon. He was using a giant serving spoon! I still wake up laughing in the middle of the night with this picture in my head. Monkeys are better at using tools than this creature.
I wake up early on Saturday to clean the kitchen and common areas of the house, I have some people coming over to hang out and I needed to put in my two hours of work to make the place respectable. Just about every single dish and piece of silverware is dirty, in the entirety of the seven months I lived with the Hurricane he used the dishwasher a grand total of ONE times.
I clean up and sit on the couch for a few minutes and watch some TV. The Hurricane wakes up and starts cooking a steak (in a frying pan) and some eggs. This was his routine on Saturdays during the last month or two I lived there. Watching him cook gives me the mental imagery necessary to understand how the hell he destroys everything. Every time he cooks he fills the entire house up with smoke. About half the times he leaves something on the stove and goes back to his stink caves and forgets about it.
After he has to open up the house to let the smoke clear, like every other previous time he cooks, he is furiously going through the silverware drawer looking for utensils. He finds what he needed, grabs a paper plate and comes over and plops on the couch next to me. It takes me a minute to see what he is doing....
Imagine the Hurricane, sitting next to you with a steak on a flimsy paper plate, laid on over his belly trying to cut it with a fork and knife. But, um, that isn't a fork in his other hand. There were no more clean forks, or dirty forks for that matter since they were all in the dishwasher load I had started. The creature grabbed a spoon to use instead. Cleaver little monkey. I sat there in amazement as he would cut a piece of steak, put it on the spoon and scoop it into his mouth. He was happy as can be completely oblivious to the ridiculousness of the situation.
I tried over and over to get a picture of video of what was happening 18 inches from me but in great disappointment could never get a good shot.
The best part? It wasn't a normal tablespoon. He was using a giant serving spoon! I still wake up laughing in the middle of the night with this picture in my head. Monkeys are better at using tools than this creature.
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