Thursday, March 8, 2012

QUALITY CONTROL

   It started with my boot laces. I don't know about you, but I'm rough on boots. If they last a year I'm lucky. So I usually don't worry about laces. But my latest pair of boots have actually outlasted my laces. And I'm about 9 months in. About 2 months ago I went to the store and purchased a brand new set of golden heavy duty boot laces. The front of my boots now resemble a briar patch of knots. I think the new laces started breaking within the first week. OK, it's a little thing. But wait....there's more.
    I've been working at Diamond Dave's gaying up his hang out THE BARn. I had this idea for a bar front that consists of closet rod sliced like 3/4 inch hot dogs, laid out on a sheet of plywood every inch and a quarter. Get the picture? After cutting up close to 50 feet of rod I sent DD's side kick Pigpen Rothman to get more. Twenty or so slices into the new rod and I discovered my pattern was going awry. I measured the rod. 1 inch and 5/16. JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST! A sixteenth makes a difference. I removed what I had to, mixed it up a little and salvaged the piece. Disaster averted. No help from Home Depot.
 
At the end of the day I went home disgusted, opened a beer and made myself a dinner of cocktail olives on rye bread. Reaching for the olives i tipped over my beer, dumping it into my fuzzy slipper.
  
   Today I bought a pack of 2 inch nails for my trim nailer. I went to load the gun and discovered that the nails would not fit. I checked the package. Same gauge. Same make. I measured the nails- 2 inch and 1/16! You can't fit two pounds of shit into a one pound sack. I could go on. The new sandpaper won't stick to the sander. The packaged mop head that is supposed to come with two little plastic nuts only contains one. I think I already touched on the design flaw of my Anti- Monkey Butt wipes top. It's still a painful memory.
  
  Today I came home made another olive sandwich and once again spilled my last beer, soaking my last joint, spilling it into my other slipper.

   Maybe it's me. But I don't think so. It used to be just electronics that you always ended up taking back to the store. The first TV, computer, stereo, DVD player never works. You have to factor in the gas it takes to get to the store, then home, then back to the store, then back home.... you get the idea. But nowadays it's everything. As I spear my last olive I examine it closely, glistening on the tip of my steak knife. It doesn't look right. Has the whole jar been bad? I don't feel so good. Oh, did I mention facebook changed the shit around so it pretty much sucks worse than it ever did. A couple of days ago i deactivated my account. Facebook- the new MySpace. I can't take it anymore. As I tie my boots I can feel the feeble braid give way once again. Where's the duct tape?        

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