You'd think the cold would cause some shrinkage.

I'm going to be late for work. I run to my Jeep, hurl myself and my shit into it, and start the engine. I turn on the heat and activate my GPS. I set it for work and find that I can just make it on time if I don't stop for red lights. Then I notice my passenger side window. Someone has drawn something in the frost on the window. I try to activate the window controls but they are unresponsive. The crude picture is frozen in place and I don't have the time to get out and scrape it off. I push the nearest vent toward it and hope it melts as I drive to work.

When I get to town, I remember that it's 6:30am and a school day. I tense up. The picture hasn't disappeared. In fact, I almost think it's become more noticeable. I come to the dramatic conclusion that I may get arrested for public indecency in a school zone today. I hope no one looks at my vehicle as I pass. I hope no one sees the crude and enormous penis someone has drawn on my passenger side window as I drive at the appointed 25mph past all the little children and their god-fearing parents. I'm not as concerned about the tiny pixelated set of tits that simply weren't drawn to the same scale as the 12 inch crocked cock. It's absurd. The balls were depicted larger than the tits. In what universe is that possible?

I am freaking out.

I drive my penis-mobile to work and arrive just in time to jump out and go running like a madman into the building. As the day progresses, I forget about my ordeal. It's much warmer in the afternoon and the penis is invisible to the naked eye. I forget it's even there until the next morning as I am running behind again and I'm too late to do anything but going speeding along in my penis-mobile for all the world to see.

I am too overwhelmed by the comedy of the situation to be as pissed off about this as I probably should be. These kinds of things just don't happen to other people. They only happen to me. I text my outrage to everyone in my phonebook. Most people assume it's a forward and don't realize this is happening in real time and to me. That makes it even funnier. Irony is hilarious like that.

The next few days are warmer and the penis goes dormant. I forget about it again. I still haven't had the time or mindset to remember to do anything about the situation and now it doesn't matter. When I do remember, I speculate about the identity of the artist. I have two theories: someone at work and someone in my apartment building. I can't decide on a favorite. It could just as easily be either.

On another bitter and cold morning, it becomes more obvious that it is definitely someone in my apartment community. First, I notice the shotgun penis for possibly the fourth time. I roll down the window and then roll it back up. Nothing changes except the breasts are gone now.

"Well, that makes it so much better. Doesn't it? Wha... What the hell?"

I see something in my rear view mirror. I turn around in my seat and my jaw unhinges. Across the entire length of my rear window is a five foot penis that makes the previous one look prepubescent.

"Holy cock. What the hell?!"

I turn on my rear defrost. I start the car and activate GPS. The absurdity of my situation is almost too extreme. I consider getting out and correcting the situation. Then, I realize someone is probably watching me. The artist is probably enjoying this moment. I honk and wave at no one and nothing. Then I'm off, speeding through town in my penis-mobile. The difference today is that I don't forget.

I don't forget for the next ten hours. After work, I get gas and make sure to wash every single window of my Jeep. I have finally stopped the insanity. No one has confessed to being my penis-mobile artist, but I maintain my theories and wait anxiously for the next cold morning to come.

Domino effect.

It's 3am and I'm holding my breath. I'm listening. Someone just screamed What the fuck?! from the apartment directly above me and now they're walking around up there. I am frozen and actively trying to look through my ceiling tiles to see what's going on up there. Since my x-ray vision isn't working, I try my telepathy. Go back to sleep. Go the hell back to sleep. You're not being robbed. It was all a dream. I wait it out. Once twenty minutes goes by, it's safe to continue. Which reminds me, I need to replace the batteries in my kitchen clock. It's been 5:15 in my kitchen since October.

It all started Sunday. It could have actually started on Saturday and I was simply too rushed and crazy to notice anything until Sunday. I came home to a flooded kitchen. I took off my socks and tried to find the source of all the water. This proved impossible since it was everywhere and could have been coming up through the tiles for all I knew. I gave up and decided to have a Dr. Pepper. That's when I noticed the can was warm and the smell - like a coconut won a hot dog eating contest and then vomited in my refrigerator before setting itself on fire. But, having just come home from work and it being 2am, I wasn't that worried about investigating the smell. I simply adjusted the temperature controls in the back of the fridge and shut the door. I removed a large tumbler from my cupboard and opened the freezer expecting to find the 22lb. bag of ice that I keep there and instead finding only a waterfall that rushed out at me and soaked the rest of my clothing. I screamed and shut the door, too late to stop anything. I stood dripping and listening to the people upstairs investigating the disturbance. I put the cup down on the counter and canvassed the kitchen floor with towels. Thankfully, I had enough since I'm not in the habit of loaning them to neighbours. I am, however, just recently in the habit of waking them up at all hours of the night with screaming and kitchen insanity.

I had successfully solved the mystery of the flooded kitchen. My refrigerator was broken. During the course of one or more days, the ice in the freezer had melted and was slowly leaking out. I accelerated that process when I opened the freezer. Now, I needed a plan. First, I needed a solution and then a plan. But before I did anything, I had to be absolutely certain there wasn't a simpler explanation for my problem. A less expense explanation, possibly. I moved the refrigerator and utilized an alternate power outlet. Perhaps, it seemed, there was something wrong with the outlet. Maybe it shorted out or wasn't providing the proper wattage to sustain a refrigerator of that size. So, I would wait and see if I could salvage the thing. When it still remained unresponsive after nearly a day of waiting, I knew I needed to replace the thing.

Since I don't really use my refrigerator for much else than soda and occasional lunch meats, I opted for a small dorm-sized fridge. Once I obtained that, I set it up in my kitchen next to the other one. That solved half of my problem, but now I had a very large and completely useless appliance and no idea what to do with it. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. I began the joyless task of food salvation from the larger fridge into the smaller one. I filled a 30 gallon garbage bag with spoiled food which I drug out to the dumpster in the box the new fridge came in. I noticed what a fantastic job the weighted box had done at plowing a path through the snow. I knew what I had to do next, but I would wait for a more opportune time to carry out the next phase of my plan.

Around 3am, I decided the time had come. I had acquired a dolly and convinced myself it would be so easy to simply load the thing, wheel it out to the dumpster, and be done with it. And under the cover of night, no one would have any idea. I wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. The path I made earlier had been there all day long so anyone observant enough to notice it would have noticed it before and not necessarily be able to assume any connection between the two. People dump shit out there all the time. It's more like the community dumpster than just the apartment community dumpster. Yes, brilliant. I put way too much thought into all of it.

Before I tell you how it all went horribly wrong, I should take a moment to paint a more detailed landscape of my kitchen for you.

I have three cupboards, a lazy susan, and only one drawer in my kitchen. The drawer is about six inches wide. I have elected to store my vast cutlery set there. I've had to get very creative with my kitchen organization and storage. I have clear bins for utensils. I installed shelves for food stuff and cooking ware. It's been a process. I could make a career out of efficiently designing kitchens the size of bathrooms.

My mistake was overestimating the distance between the refrigerator and the shelves I installed. I would have been alright if they weren't the cheapest shelves I could find. Basically, they are strips of metal screwed into the wall which I then slide brackets into and then sit the painted wooden shelves on. They just hang there, precariously waiting for a disaster. They didn't have to wait long. When I heard the metal bracket bouncing back and forth between the fridge and the wall as it fell, I knew something terrible was about to happen. Oh shit. I thought helplessly. Something terrible just happened. I decided that if I didn't move, everything would be fine. I could maintain the status quo of impending doom and keep it at bay by simply forbidding the inevitable from occurring. I would simply stand there holding my refrigerator at a 45 degree angle while simultaneously wedging a bracketless shelf between the refrigerator and the wall forever. Because of the extreme nature of the situation, I couldn't reach anything to do much else without altering the angle of the fridge and disrupting the fragile balance of my tiny kitchen universe. Damn it. I thought, setting the refrigerator back up into a fully upright position. Gravity and the domino effect did the rest.

What happened next was total insanity. I watched in horror as the shelves collapsed - each one unbalancing the next, metal brackets went flying, cooking ware crashed and smashed through boxes of food stuff. For about five seconds, my kitchen was possessed by furious demons. I clamped both hands over my mouth to keep from screaming or laughing or something. Someone in the apartment above me shrieked What the fuck?! in a way that sent chills rippling through me. They were truly frightened which frightened me. I stood there in complete shock just looking at the carnage. Once the footsteps stopped upstairs, I relaxed a little. I remained silent, like a kitchen devastating ninja, for the next twenty minutes while I chain-smoked and not much else but sigh.

It actually was rather easy moving the refrigerator after that. I decided I would reclaim the kitchen when I woke up later that morning. I would even vacuum once the floor dried completely.

Fallout from the refrigerator incident.

I turn off the vacuum and listen. There is another knock at the door. I frown. I really can't pretend I'm sleeping or in the shower now. I walk across the kitchen, the sound of uncooked radiatore crunching under my feet and the tiny shards of hard pasta stabbing my soles. I sigh when I reach the door. I turn the deadbolt and then the knob. I smirk casually. I've got some explaining to do.

"Hello."
"Oh, hey man. What's up?"
"I don't know. What is up?"

It's my neighbour, not my landlord. I'm slightly relieved. It's cold, too, and I suddenly remember I'm not wearing any pants. Shit. When I don't have to work, I refuse to get dressed anymore than is absolutely necessary. And, since I finally mastered the archaic thermostat for my apartment, it usually never is necessary at all.

"You know."
"Not really, but ok. Is that it? I'm kinda busy."
"I was just wondering... is that Scooby Doo?"

I look down at my boxers and chuckle. Where did I even get these? Oh. I remember. I chuckle.

"Yep. Scooby Dooby Doo. Like 'em?"
"Ha. Uh. Anyway."

Before I continue, I should probably take a moment to relate my previous interactions with Tyrone. The first time Tyrone knocked on my door, he wanted to borrow some jumper cables. If I had any to loan him, I'm not sure I would have but I might because he was still a normal neighbour back then. Things have changed drastically since then. The last time Tyrone knocked on my door, it went something like this:

I was in the shower and hoping that the sound I was hearing was someone hanging shelves or maybe abusing their spouses. It wasn't, so I get out and dry myself spastically and throw on some sweatpants. I turn the deadbolt and then the doorknob.

"Hello."
"Oh, hey man. What's up?"
"I don't know. What is up? I'm taking a shower."
"Oh, cool. Cool."
"Ok, is that it? Are we done?"
"Hey, I was just wondering... do you think I could borrow a towel?"
"What?"
"Do you think I can borrow a towel?"
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, man."
"No, we're not doing that. I don't even... wow. What do need it for? No, don't answer that. I don't even care. Just no. Leave."
"Ok, it's cool."
"No, it's not."

I closed the door and locked the deadbolt. The only thought I could manage was What in the hell just happened? Since then, I've ignored knocks at my door. I simply don't care to know what's out there anymore. Until today, of course, because I have a situation I'm dealing with and I'm expecting someone to notice and confront me. But... Tyrone? This is going to get weird and fast. Oh wait, I'm talking to a strangely needy black man and wearing just Scooby Doo underwear. It's already almost too weird for me to handle. Let's jump back in to that madness where we left off.

I'm feeling cocky. Oh, the puns I could use here. This isn't the confrontation I was expecting and I owe this guy a very awkward experience from the whole towel incident so I have no problem at all making inappropriate comments and dragging whatever this is out as long as possible. I'm thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable this has become for this man. I just look at him and wait. Maybe he'll just give up and leave.

"I just wanted to know..."
"If I need help solving a mystery?"
"Ha. Oh shit. No. Do you?"
"I think I'm good. Nothing mysterious about a man with no pants. It's a revolution and you can't stop it."
"Yeah. Um. Ok. I just wanted to know if that was your fridge."
"My what? Where?"
"Over there by the dumpster. Right there."

I lean to the right and peer out into the whiteness of the recent snowfall and can barely make out the yellowed tinge of an ancient, abandoned refrigerator standing next to the dumpster for my apartment complex. I look at him and he looks at me, trying not to look anywhere but at my face.

"Why? Is there a problem?"
"No, man. You know me. I don't like trouble. I was just wondering."
"Then, yes. That's my refrigerator."
"It still work?"
"No. That's why it's by the dumpster."
"You think I can fix it?"
"I have no idea."
"You think I can have it?"
"Sure. I really don't care. Have it. If you can fix it, great. If you can't, make a table or use it to sled down a mountain. I don't really care what you do with it."
"You playin'?"
"No, dog. I'm not playing. I'm serial. Do you know what I am saying?"
"Yeah, I know what you're sayin'."
"Alright then. Are we done?"
"For real though?"
"For realest reals and really. I can't be any more clear or ridiculous than that."
"Is this a trick?"
"I don't know what to say to that. You're gonna do what you're gonna do and I'm not gonna give a shit and finish vacuuming now. So... whatever. Do what you want."
"Ok, I feel ya. It's cool."
"This doesn't make us friends or anything. You understand that, right? We're still just neighbours. I don't want any confusion about where we stand."
"You're weird, huh? I mean, even for a white boy. You're weird."
"I believe the correct phrase is 'quiet and kept to himself' and that's exactly what you should tell people later on when they ask about me."
"Who? Who's gonna ask about you?"
"You'll have to wait and see. It'll be a surprise."
"You got jokes."
"Yep. I'm a funny guy. Enjoy the fridge."

I close the door and lock the deadbolt. I suddenly wish I had to work instead of staying home all day. I have a very distinct feeling that this isn't over. For the curious, I will explain my refrigerator situation and how this all started in a follow-up post later today. Once I determine there isn't additional information to add to the story, which I guarantee there will be.

It's only the first day of the new year and already the world is falling apart.

Fortunately for everyone, it's my job to keep it together.

So, it's News Year's Day and the official end of Kwanzaa. How exciting! I've reaffirmed - as I do every year on this day - that no one wants to work on the first day of the new year, not even at time and a half. Hangover, anyone? Yes, indeed. What a delightful start to 2010. Speaking of which: Welcome to the future, people. Is it everything you'd hoped for? No? Hmmmm. We'll have to work on that.

Which also brings me to a horrifying realization: It's been a decade since high school. Which allows me to naturally come to another shocking revelation: It's high school reunion time. Oh. Please. No. For the first year or two, I entertained the thought of actually and enthusiastically attending this event. That is no longer the case. I am not going back to Nevada, possibly ever. Even if I wanted to go back, I would quickly remind myself that there is at least one crazy individual there that has vowed to castrate me should I ever return. Since I believe this person would realistically make good on that threat, I will simply refrain from putting either of us in that position. It's a long story and I'd rather not get into it, but I was perfectly willing to accept those terms at the time and burn that bridge. Besides, there's nothing there for me now and the premise of any type of reunion is not alluring enough to even consider if even jokingly.

Completely changing the subject, I have just reclaimed my living room. Until just a few minutes ago, it was a mess of boxes and papers and junk. I've been attempting to organize my possessions and decrease their bulk. It's been an ongoing process, but each attempt reduces the load my at least four garbage bags. Soon, I will be in a minimalist heaven having reduced my worldly possessions to only the necessary and essential. I've uncovered some interesting and forgotten relics of my unpublished writings which I will begin reworking and prepping for posting on one of these sites - whichever is most appropriate. Then I will discard those pages as well. I've also uncovered an entire bin of mostly blank notebooks so I should be able to draft more new work as it comes to me.

Other than that, it's all work and no play for me these days. I sleep when I'm home and not too much else. Keeps me out of trouble, though. That's a good thing, I suppose. Boring, I admit, but good.

I'll close with the first quote from my new Quotes from The Office desk calendar - a Christmas gift from Nurse Egg:

"My boss is sending me abroad to do a presentation to an international client and I have always been intrigued by all things international: the women, the pancakes, the man of mystery." -Michael