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Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The Plumber and the Naked Lady

The Plumber and the Naked Lady

The Plumber and the Naked Lady

'ROPE ROPE ROPE' 'CLUMP CLUMP CLUMP CLUMP' (sounds of dog barking accompanied by running footsteps overhead). 'ROPE ROPE ROPE.' (door opens then slams overhead) 'ROPE ROPE ROPE ROPE.' "Ahhh! Tom there's someone in the bathroom !!! (lady screams from shower). But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's begin to start at the top of the beginning.
It was the Spring of 1980 something and sewage was in the air. But that's how it was pretty much for me everyday working as a plumber in the big city. Myself and two older brothers, I worked for as an apprentice, had arrived at a residence we were going to rough-in basement plumbing for. The plumbing van was unloaded into the basement through the basement door. Electrical cords strung out, tools set up, plumbing fittings all arranged and work was about to begin.
"I'll just go upstairs and let them know not to flush the toilet or take a bath or brush their teeth." Bill (Jack's older brother) said. These instructions were made because we were about to cut the main cast iron stack to the upstairs plumbing. The kitchen sink was okay to use as it was on a separate plumbing stack in another part of the home.
The man upstairs, (no not God!) the homeowner, understood and would tell his wife what we had told him. And in his defence, he did. And after doing so quickly headed out the door off to work.
Meanwhile downstairs
Measurements are taken to cut it in a 3 inch clean out at the base of the stack as all plumbing stacks need one at the base and this one was in want of one. Bill mentions how big the dog is upstairs. A cast iron cutter chain was looped around the stack and pressure was applied to make the first cut. Success! ( sometimes the cast iron is so rotten it crumbles) A second cut is now made with the same success. Bill jokes about the size of the dog upstairs. Now there's about a one foot piece of cast iron that's cut from the stack but it's still in place because of all the weight of the cast iron pipe and fittings above our vertical cut.
Discussions were made and past histories explored of previous jobs and it was decided that the present system of metal banding was sufficient to carry the weight of the plumbing stack after we were to remove the cut piece. Plus the ladder we needed was still in the truck. So with two (Jack and I) guys lifting, to get a bit of wiggle room, Bill removed the one foot piece from the plumbing stack and cast it aside which it then broke to pieces. This of course was the cue for the lady upstairs to start taking her shower.
Now true we said nothing of showers in our request of what not to do in the bathroom. So she had us on a technicality. She also had us standing holding up a heavy plumbing stack that the existing supports could NOT carry and her shower was running all over our feet with nowhere to go but stand firm and carry the weight. It was the decided with much discussion,...again NOT! Bill took off running up the stairs with great urgency. Water was running across the basement floor to the low spot, away from the drain toward absorbent piled cardboard boxes filled with what could be family treasures.
Cresting the stairs after momentarily stunning himself on a low floor joist he struggled with the always stiff ancient basement doorknob. We believe (Jack and I) this alerted their indoor horse with canine features. Of course we couldn't say for sure it transpired this way, we're just going on what we're hearing as we couldn't leave our heavy burden behind.
Just as soon as Bill was through the basement door to the upstairs that dog was on him. 'ROPE ROPE ROPE.' Jack an I had a blind mans front seat to all this. We couldn't see a thing as our story played out in surround sound. Our heads went left then right, then hesitated, then started moving again following urgent footsteps upstairs. Doors open, closed, footsteps and the tickety tick of dogs nails all pulled at our ears 'ROPE ROPE ROPE ROPE' Bill was on the move again. It wasn't till our heads were looking straight up that the screaming started. Bill had locked himself in the bathroom away from the dog that ate a horse. It was also in the same room the lady upstairs was taking a shower in and she wasn't too fond of male visitors in her bathroom.
"Ahhh! Tom there's someone in the bathroom!" She screamed
"Toms not home!" Bill pointed out.
Now this made her scream even louder! It was at this point Jack and I got the giggles and we couldn't stop laughing.
A door opens again, feet running, dog chasing rapid feet, screaming, Jack and I are trying to keep pace with the audio cues. The basement door opens, and a much louder 'ROPE ROPE ROPE' fills our ears. The basement door then slams shut and a dog yelps. Silence,...but for the dripping of water on the floor. The lady had shut off the shower, and judging by her footsteps was coming down to the basement to offer us coffee. NOT!
"Well that was a short day." I stated with great obliviousness as we drove away. Bill shot me a look that said if you ever mention this he had better be long dead and gone or it will be you that's dead and gone.
Next year it will be 30 yrs. that I lost my good friend Bill due to a heart attack. He was a kind church-going Saint of a man and an even better employer. And that was one of the funniest day I ever had plumbing. I think 29 years qualifies for long gone.

boB NileS

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Fwd: Election art


Fwd: Pumpkins, Electoral Signs and Christmas Trees

> Pumpkins, Electoral Signs and Christmas Trees
> After Halloween, pumpkins look ridiculous hanging around the front yard. Their once broad grin and bright triangular eyes melt into themselves and give the appearance of a sixties movie star in need of a facelift. The same is true of Christmas trees and electoral signs of hopeful candidates. After their eventful day has past they're garbage
> Get them out of the yard! Get them out of the house! Get them off the streets! We don't want to see them anymore!
> To rid yourself of a pumpkin you just drop it into the new handy-dandy two wheeled Green Cart and TA -DAH it's gone. The dead tree that was once heralded in high esteem is back on the car roof off to the firemen who kill it some more by chopping it to mulch. But the election signs are not so easily trashed. No Green Cart or mulching for them. But they can be used for many projects around the house, or they can be shaped and formed to make a statement in the community.
> My Dad for example, back in the day when election signs were plywood, would support the candidate with party colours closest to our house colour. He didn't care what the party stood for he just wanted the plywood to build a crappy shed and fence. Both shed and fence matched in colour and also, unfortunately, vertical stability.
> Today's election signs are now made from plastic coated cardboard that have no shed or fence building qualities. Why a big gust of hot air would send them flying! (makes you wonder how they made it through the campaigning). So now one has to get creative to recycle and reuse this free windfall. Such as,...turning the sign around in your front yard and painting 'FOR SALE' on it. Very popular choice in Richmond. Or you could collect the signs and trade them with your friends. 'I'll trade you two Conservatives for a Green Party.' (much rarer)
> You could use the back of the signs and cut out pumpkins, snowmen and other outdoor decorations for the upcoming holidays. Save them for next summer and make a slip-n-slide for the family. What could give greater pleasure than sliding your butt across the face of that bum you elected now in Ottawa.
> Why not have the school kids make snow geese from them and flood their school fields with them so the real grass eating, pooh fouling field fowls can't.
> Use the back of the sign to write your appraisal of city hall completely in your native tongue with a rating from 1-10 at the bottom. Place the sign on the lawn at city hall and let them figure out if it's good or bad or the price of a dozen hot wings downtown.
> Be sure to save a least one election sign of the person you elected to represent you in Ottawa. And after a period of time (sometimes short, sometimes a little longer) when they screw up on an issue you hold dear, paint over all the sign except for their smiling face. Then again completely in your own tongue write 'I put this bum in Ottawa and all I got was this crumby sign!'
> Bob Niles
> 8100 No. 3 Rd.
> 604-761- 2466

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Fwd: Artwork talking to me?


Fwd: He's still driving,...but now it's me crazy!

> He's still driving,.....but now it's me crazy!
> A few years back my Dad's doctor thought that it would be better for the community, travellers on the roads, pedestrians on the sidewalks and people living in houses near a road that my Dad turn in his steering wheel. It was best that he and his love for Detroit steel separate, and to park old Betsie it in the garage.
> Yes no longer could he roll down the car window and call the driver in front of him a clown for,... well just for being in front of him probably. No longer would the 'I could park an 18 wheeler in there!' echo off the buildings while someone was trying to parallel park. He had lost his ability to safely operate a vehicle and to give circus related observations and self proclaimed mechanical feats from the comfort of his car.
> To get into the anger, inconvenience and loss of mobility he suffered,.....well that's just a given. But what was a surprise was how he acted out every time I had to drive him somewhere. It was like it was my fault he lost his license and he was going to get even.
> -He would never sit in the front seat of the car but directly behind me and play peek-a-boo while placing his hands over my eyes while I was driving.
> -He'd roll down the window and tell the guy in the next car I was drunk and that we were out to score more mixer.
> -He'd make me wear a cap so I looked like I was his chauffeur in my 1996 Honda Accord. And if I didn't wear the cap he would bark at people driving by.
> -I'd take him to his bank and he cried elder abuse and then agree to give me another $200 if I'd stop hitting him. And then he'd laugh his head off on the way out.
> -I'd take him to usual greasy spoon coffee shop with all his old cronies and he'd introduce me as his daughter that did a reverse Bruce Jenner.
> -He'd excuse himself from wherever we were, take the dog and go sit in the car with the windows rolled up on hot days.
> -He down loaded ice cream truck music on his phone and would play it out the window when we drove slow through school zones.
> -He'd play Chinese fire drill at lights only he wouldn't get back in the car.
> -He'd stand up through the sun roof, spread his arms and claim he's the king of the world with his shirt wide open wearing one of Moms bras.
> -He'd make me keep the windows up on especially hot days so people would think we had air conditioning.
> - If we got stopped by the cops for,....let's say impersonating an ice cream truck in a school zone he'd start doing this awful impersonation of Clint Eastwood doing Robert Dinero. 'You talking to me punk? Are you talking to me? Go ahead make my day punk.'
> -He'd tape baking powder up in plastic bags and hide them in the cars trunk. He'd then phone the cops and tell them we were on our way to a drug drop while on our way to his proctologist.
> -Called everybody clowns that couldn't drive to his standard and said that his son (me) would beat the crap out of them if they had anything to say about it.
> And so it was because of all this acting out and me getting beat up often, I made an appointment with his doctor to have his mental state assessed. He's in the waiting room chatting up the receptionist and nurses calling them all by name telling them hilarious jokes. Everyone in the waiting room think my Dads just great! He visits the doctor (makes me wait in the reception room) for half an hour then comes out all fine and happy. Doctor takes me into his office and tells me he's doing just fine and assures me I should have no concerns. 'Great!' I say and head back to reception just as my Dad steps back into the room. Says he had to see a man about a horse and tells the receptionist the men's head needs attention as all the toilets are overflowing. We slosh down the hall to the car park to find I have two flat tires. Dad said he'd be sleeping in the back seat and to wake him if he needed someone to hold the flashlight. He laughs his head off and crawls into the car for his afternoon nap.
> That was the last time I made my Dad go to the doctors. I gave up making him go anywhere. And after the time he went to church and just sat in the confessional booth till the priest got fed up and banged on the wall my mother gave up on him too. It wasn't so much as him just sitting there, it was the fact he told the priest to 'stop banging there's no toilet paper on this side either!'
> And he wasn't even Catholic! He just had an old joke he had to try before he died.
> I really hope God thought it was funny. We all did.
> Bob Niles

Monday, September 14, 2015

Fwd: You wanna screw for the hinge?

                                       You wanna a screw for the hinge?

In recent visits, extended visits, to Walmart I have become a bit unruly with the wife. I have taken the long drawn out tedious situation of being there and done everything possible to embarrass the wife, Walmart staff and total strangers. You might of read of some of my exploits on line. Such fun!
Well now the little lady is getting even while I'm at Canadian Tire. I mean I don't want her to go with me. I'd rather go alone, but she's devised this devious plan she thinks is funny and now wants to tag along with me to my guy store every time I go.
She's doing things like;

Getting a wheelbarrow, bags of lime, shovels and duct tape and stressing a sense of urgency to the store clerk that she has to get back to the car before her husband comes round.

Giggling insistently and like a little girl every time that she gets the clerk to repeat (because she keeps forgetting) the part on the toilet called the ballcock.

With two jumbo boxes of rat poison she asks the clerk in the gardening dept. if they knew of any recipes that included rat poison that her husband might like.

With chainsaw and plastic sheet in hand asks staff if they have any DVDs of Scarface.

Swings a camping hatchet from side to side and up and down while pointing out that this could do some serious damage down at the bank.

Asks staff where the numb nuts section as she's looking for her husband.

Walks up to a clerk with a fence hinge in hand and asks for,...oh but she can't remember the name of the kind of nail you use that twists into the wood to hold the hinge on. 'A screw?' The clerk says, 'you wanna screw for the hinge?' "No! But I'll let you get to second base for a toaster." She teases.

Complains 'the plumbing display department here is trash' every time she walks out of the ladies washroom.

Complains often and loudly she can't find the camouflage isle!

Enjoys annoying the auto department by asking for 'that thingy' for a 2010/ 6 cylinder Ford Explorer. And then after looking through pictures of parts for half an hour she gives them an 'Oh never mind, I remember now, it's a whatsit!'

Pretends she's a fashion super model as she does the catwalk down the well lit light display isle

Practises casting the fishing rods across as many isles as possible.

She uses a changing room (which was the shower curtain display) to try on her one size fits all paper overalls then complains that all the ladies in the store were watching her change. Not realizing all the bathroom cabinets with mirrors were across the isle.

Sets up 100 rat traps off the display rack in the women's washroom.

Drops 3/8ths lug nuts down all the butt cracks she encounters and then gives them the nod over my way like I did it.

Brings her leftover meatloaf (and there's usually lots. Taste like rat poison) and places cut up logs of it in the toilets on display in the plumbing department.

Tries to buy as much heavy stuff as she can to see if the car, with its bumper now on road will throw out sparks like in the commercial.

Every time I move my hand to point to something she jumps back like a beaten dog.  Then apologizes for being so jumpy and thanks me for letting her out of the box.

Screams KEVIN! Three times and gets them to lock down the store as she can't find her precious Kevin. After an hour of looking it's discovered Kevin (a gerbil) is still in her purse.

Swings a framing hammer from side to side and up and down while pointing out this could do some serious damage down at the bank.

Bob Niles