Neanderpundit

What gracious hosts were the Algers you’d probably be surprised that there are only two of them. And dolly isn’t- at least technically- either one. The Mrs- also known as SWMBO, is a doll, and a full tilt blast to be around. She introduced me, at dinner, to HER daughter- who is more dangerously attractive than any girl has any right to be. So when you read BTB, remember that behind that slightly cantankerous Tim Allen Wannabe (and the chesty redhead) is a real person who is not a chesty red… who is not a redhead, and who makes it possible for Mark Alger to keep body and soul together well enough to post to BTB regularly. SWMBO is a fully integrated part of the entire Alger experience, which is almost, but not entirely, completely unlike the Jimi Hendrix experience. I hope she gets to meet the Ogwife someday, I’m confident they’ll get along famously.

Yes, Mark & I went to Home Despot 3 times during the project, and yes, I understand that in certain municipalities that means we’re betrothed.

Petrol stations are being pressed out of existence in the greater metropolitain Cincinnati area, I drove six miles to find a BP and a Shell huddled together on a tiny street corner, sharing even their signage. I tried to catch a picture but the light was such that it was impossible. Won’t someone help the poor gas stations in their struggle against the encroaching horde of home improvement stores and Starbucks?

Speaking of starbucks, it’s amazing how touchy their customers are. I mean, I just wanted a Carmel Frappuchino. Now, there were ten or twelve customers sitting outside having expressos, and I thought the yelling a bit excessive.

I suppose it didn’t help that I nearly missed the turn and hit the lot at about 58 mph. And powerbraked and drifted into the parking place, all four new dunlops squealing into position, inches from the curb by the patio.

Lay off the caffeine, you nimrods. I didn’t even come close to any of you.

Drink your coffee and have your morning constitutional at the HOTEL, so you don’t have to call the Haz-Mat team to the home of people who are having you as their guest.

Good thing I have them on speed dial.

But I enjoy the hell out of it, so that’s OK.

I enjoy a great deal more when there are visible signs of accomplishment. And unlike Friday, thursday, and wednesday of last week, Saturday, I actually accomplished something.

granted, not nearly as much as I would have liked, but Mrs Alger seemed pleased. No, NOT Dolly. And don’t read anything into that that doesn’t belong there, I simply assisted M Alger in assembling and installing the desk for his Mrs.. I suspect he will evantually have pictures.

Cincinnati is a fast town, people drive rather quickly. I suspect it’s because of the hundreds of extra miles of road required to keep the damned expressways from literally being in everyone’s front yard. Also: there never seems to be any road construction down here. Oh, there are spots, resurfacing projects, I’ve seen those, but in 40 years of coming down to the Home of the Reds and fiberglass swine, I have never seen anything like the all-encompassing palumbo construction crap we get in Chicago. So people drive like fucktards, as they do everywhere, but the do it quickly, and for the most part, get the screaming fuck out of my way, which is good.

Cinci is also full of the most amazing yuppies, homes costing the equivalent of the GNP of third world countries. Beemers and Porsche Cayennes everywhere. Stayed this weekend in a Motel Six, where Tom Bodette welcomed me personally. As well as an and mildly skanky girl with her initials tattoed on her forearm in japanese- apparently so she could be identified if she ever woke up in Hokkaido with amnesia.