Knobs for Noobs

11 Nov

from July 13, 2007

Some of you may know that for the past two weeks I have been on a quest to replace an air-conditioner knob.

I woke up one morning and, bleary-eyed and wobbly, I wandered over to the a/c to turn it off. My a/c has two knobs- one to turn it on or off and control the fan strength, and another to control the temperature. To turn off the a/c I needed to turn the leftmost knob to the right. I grabbed the rightmost knob, which was already as far right as it would go. “Uh,” I thought. Somehow the thought went through my mind that it must be stuck. So I used all of my sleepy, weary strength to turn it to the right. The shaft of the knob crumbled and the knob came off in my hand. “Uh,” I thought, and went back to bed with the knob laying on the floor.

I reawaked a few hours later, very cold. I was sure I turned of the a/c, didn’t I? So when I found the broken knob a few things came to mind: “Uh?” and “Was that what I did this morning?”

This wasn’t the important knob- the a/c was already at full temp. I didn’t need it to turn it on or off. But I broke it and it needed to be fixed.

My first thought was to fix the knob. I know how to do this. I had the knob and the two broken pieces (one had to be fished out of the a/c’s frame.) I took some modeling putty and filled the stem. I put a toothpick in the middle to use as a handle. After the putty hardened a bit I smoothed it on the outside and placed the broken pieces on top. The putty would act as a base to properly place the broken pieces in the correct position. I then used Testors modeling glue to adhere the pieces back into place. After a few hours drying time I brushed a thin layer of epoxy on the outside of the stem. The next day after it was dry I gently pulled the putty out of the knob, using the toothpick, being careful not to put any stress on the newly-solid knob. The knob looked good. I took and x-acto knife to scrape out any loose putty and trim an edge of rough glue and it was done.

I waited another day to let it totally dry and solidify and then I slowly placed it back on the metal piece sticking out of the a/c. It fit snugly. Deep breath. Now the test. I turned it, gingerly, to the left. Didn’t move. I used a little more strength, a little more, there it goes- snap! It crumbled in my hand. “Uh.”

So my next step was to buy a replacement knob. My first stop was Home Depot. I know that store well. We had tangled in the past. Despite owning the reputation of having everything anyone could possibly need to put in a tub, sod a lawn, or furnish a castle, I had trouble there a few years back finding some hex screws. On another occasion I could not buy their advertised drill because, as explained by an associate, “it doesn’t exist.”  My father’s battles with their Mill Basin store are legendary, with them actually encouraging, no, forcing him to shoplift. I went there with low expectations.

My first stop was their furniture knob and handle section. They didn’t have what I wanted, but I wasn’t expecting to find it there, it was just a short detour on the way to the appliances section. They had a lot models of a/c, and filters galore, but no replacement knobs. I went to the electrical area with, frankly, little hope. I was right, no knob. My next move was going to be very logical. I was going to snag a knob from one of their floor models.

That isn’t shoplifting- I had the broken knob in my pocket and I was just going to make a switch. Floor models get treated rough any way. Knobs break all the time. I was really just correcting a mistake- this floor model should have a broken knob. And since I should have a new knob, this was a win-win move. Karma.

Or not, since all the floor models were either A- missing knobs or B- digital and didn’t have knobs to begin with. So I left Home Depot.

Home Depot is for poseurs anyway. Real guys go to their local hardware stores. A good hardware store will have anything- Japanese ball joints, metric window screens, socket wrenches with unusual flanges, and those little things that let you stick a polarized plug into a non-polarized outlet and risk a deadly fire. I knew a good hardware store on Cropsey Avenue. They’d have it.

No they didn’t. The store had new owners. It still looked like a good hardware store, but I don’t think much of hardware stores that also sell needlepoint kits and yarn.

Boro Park. Home to dozens of little independent electronic stores. Many of them are the ones always being investigated by channel 2 or channel 5 news for selling rebuilt products as new. I’d shopped there before. They’d sell their shoes if you made the right offer. Those stores are actually pretty good if you know how they operate and what you are looking for. I’d find the knob there.

Out of three stores, I found one guy who was willing to sell me the knob from the air conditioner sitting on a shelf, under a gray-market CD player and a layer of dust. Clearly, this a/c had been there since the parting of the Red Sea. It was old, it was not going to sell, but the knob matched.

Twenty dollars. He wanted twenty dollars for the knob. I offered five and I knew I was overpaying by $4.65. He didn’t want to haggle, he didn’t want to compromise, he wanted twenty dollars. His reason? Without a knob he would have to sell the a/c for less and maybe not sell it at all- who would want an a/c missing a knob? I pointed out that it looked filthy and wasn’t going to sell at all. He pointed out that it was in good condition. I asked him to plug it in and let’s see. He said that he had his hot plate plugged in and he pointed to it. It was as dusty as the air conditioner. “You cook on that?” “Soon,” he replied.

It was time to reassess my strategy. I was on my way to Elizabeth New Jersey the next day, to shop at Jersey Gardens. I knew that I wouldn’t find the knob there but it was just down the road from IKEA, the Swedish Superstore. Maybe, just maybe…..

IKEA had a ton of build-it yourself bookcases and some tasty Swedish meatballs in their  ultra-clean food court but I left without anything but a “fleurgin,” or a “stzl,” or whatever they called the small set of mugs I bought. I always loved the Swedish Chef on The Muppet Show and I bet he never needed an air conditioner knob.

I was running out of options. Reluctantly, I went online to buy one. This is not how men do things. We men build things, we hunt out replacement parts, we do it ourselves. We don’t buy stuff online unless it is 35% off and free shipping from Amazon. But I didn’t have anything else to do.

The GE website had it. It was $3. This wasn’t so bad. After all, I already offered a guy five. What got me was the shipping- $3.95. It was more than the knob! I would rather go and pick it up myself from wherever they are than spend that. It isn’t the money, it is the principle. That is just a rip-off. Well, I had to order it, and to be smart I ordered two. This knob weighs a couple of ounces. Shipping for one was $3.95. To stick another in the box and ship two cost $5.95. Two dollars more! The knobs were $6 and the shipping was another $6, so two knobs cost me $12. What a racket GE has going.

They came about four days later in a giant envelope that could have easily contained thirty or forty of these things. I am sure that the envelope weighed more than the knobs. OK, it was a padded envelope, but $6 for that? And to add insult to injury the website said they would ship FedEx but the regular mailman brought them. So the actual shipping cost about $1.80 for postage and 98 cents for the envelope.

So know I had the knob, but something wasn’t quite right. It was about 1/16th of an inch too big. Not a lot, just enough to be noticeable. It also had a small dot molded into the face. The original knob did too, but this dot was painted black and the original was unpainted. Not a big deal, but just enough to bug me.

But when I put it on it fit snugly and turned like a dream.

The extra knob is safely in my toolbox.

There is a lesson here. Something about perseverance, or maybe something about technology and obsolescence. Perhaps there is a moral here about big business.

I just think that when you read this you’ll realize that I had a lot of time on my hands and nothing better to do.

But bottom line- I got the knob.

Mr. Know-It-All: Unrehabilitated

11 Nov

from July 8, 2007

Mr. Know-It-All is back, baby, and I ain’t writing about a monkey movie. (What was that shit anyway?) I was away for a while because my “family” decided that I was drinking too much and they sent me to some rehab place. Turns out it was the same one Lindsey Lohan was sent to, and you know how well it turned out for her. So here I am with my all-new advice. (My first advice is to you, the readers- don’t read this shit.)

This first question really struck a chord with your ol’ pal:

 DEAR ABBY: I am being married this summer. It will be a fairly large wedding with 185 guests. My fiance’s parents and grandparents are very supportive. The problem is my mother. She’s an alcoholic.

When she drinks she can’t stop, and usually becomes angry and belligerent. She will cause a scene and beg people for money. If she doesn’t get exactly what she wants when she wants, she throws temper tantrums and has been known to become violent.

Mom has promised me she’ll refrain from drinking at my reception, but neither my fiance nor I believe her. What are my options at this point? Should I allow her to come, with the risk that she’ll ruin our big day? Or should I bar her from the reception?

Keep in mind that Mother was drunk during my entire high school graduation party. My friends and teachers who were there could see her bloodshot eyes and smell the alcohol on her breath. She was rude to everyone. I had a collage of their pictures on display, and she spent most of her time at the party coloring over their faces. It was the most embarrassing experience of my life. I am terrified of what she’ll do at my reception. — BRIDE IN THE MIDWEST

Change “she” to “he” and “mother” to “Mr. Know-It-All” and you have a pretty good picture of my life. My advice? Let her come. Let her drink all she wants. In fact, do what they did to Mr. T on the A-Team whenever they wanted him to fly- spike her drink. After the first drink she’ll fall asleep and then the party can continue. I have missed a ton of boring family events because of this, and I can’t tell you how happy I am. If you ever want to torture Mr. K-I-A just stick him at a family affair.

I was at my cousin’s high school graduation party last month. It was a pool party and all of her college-age friends were there, along with two of her hot young teachers. Everything went great until I woke up in the pool with somebody’s bra on my head. God I hope that wasn’t my cousin’s.

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DEAR ABBY: My husband, “Jack,” and I have been together for 14 years. We were married for seven years, then divorced and got back together six months after we split. We remarried three-and-a-half years ago.

We have two beautiful children and are happily married this time around — except for one thing. Jack says he wants me to go out and find a boyfriend. He says he wants me to be happy, that I am his entire world and he loves me so much he can’t envision his life without me.

I have told Jack over and over that this wouldn’t make me happy, that I’m happy just being with him. He continues to say the offer is there if I decide to take him up on it. He doesn’t seem to get that this is HIS fantasy — not mine. I am deeply hurt that he would want to put me out there like that. I feel as though he doesn’t really care about me and that he’s only concerned about how he feels and what turns him on.

Why would he want me to be with other men if he feels the way he says he does about me? — CONFUSED AND HURT IN FLORIDA

Lady, face it- your husband is gay. Gay! He wants you to have boyfriend so HE can have a boyfriend. But what do you care as long as they fill your holes? DO IT! (My phone number is 555-8705. You sound very vulnerable. I’ll take care of you.)

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DEAR ABBY: I don’t know what to do. My friend “Joe” and I are in sixth grade. We have been friends since the beginning of this year. His friend, “Sierra,” and her friends go to parties where everyone drinks and smokes.

I’m really worried about Sierra, especially because she doesn’t listen to Joe when he asks her to stop. How can I get her and her friends to stop going to these parties? What should I do? — UPSET IN EUGENE, ORE.

No. No no no. You should NOT stop her from going, You should START going! Those parties are great! Sixth grade was where I first tried crystal meth, and look where I am now- an advice columnist! Let me tell you about some other advice columnists. Dear Abby? A hooker. Ann Landers? Busted for dealing pot to minors in a school yard. Harriette Cole? Gave Bill Clinton a hummer in the Oval Office. Sierra does not have a problem, YOU have a problem. Start drinking now! I can’t stress the importance of drinking enough.

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DEAR ABBY: This is in response to “Young Mom in Oklahoma” (May 7), who wrote asking if it was OK to discipline her 4-year-old by smashing his toys with a hammer. Your response was appropriate. However, that mother should be encouraged to attend parenting classes or speak to her son’s pediatrician regarding her problem with how to discipline her son. I am very concerned for the child’s well-being if she even has to ask if it’s OK to smash his toys with a hammer. — A MOM WHO CARES

“A MOM WHO CARES”? Ah, who cares? Ha ha, a little joke. Of course you can smash his toys with a hammer. Smash his race cars, his robots, whatever. Violence is always the best answer to a situation like this. Toughen that little shit up. Teach him right from wrong, that might is right, and that it is a cruel cold world. That’s what happened to me, and that is the reason I am such a masochist today. Just last night I paid a hooker to smash my face with a frying pan and crack eggs on my ass. But that might also be because I have food issues too.

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DEAR ABBY: I am a former junior high and high school teacher. I do not agree with your advice to “Deflowered in Pennsylvania” (May 2), the 28-year-old who made some “poor choices” as a teenager and is no longer a virgin. She is dating “Chris,” a 26-year-old man who is saving himself for marriage and wants to marry a virgin. You told her that because Chris needs time to think about this discrepancy, she should move on.

Abby, the young woman explained that after a religious conversion, she is now saving future sexual activity for marriage. She should not feel devalued. Chris’ response was honest. She needs to allow him to grow and reassess how he treats the value they both agree on — that sex is for marriage.

Remember, Chris said he still likes her and wants to continue dating her. That makes him the one who has opted for no change in the relationship. “Deflowered” should stress to him that she has become that “sweet old-fashioned girl” who upholds traditional values, and that her conversion has helped her to understand the consequences of uncommitted sex. If Chris can broaden his thinking, they might make a great couple. — SWEET OLD GIRL

GAH! The old “saving myself for marriage myth.” This is the god’s honest truth- every woman is a whore. No woman over the age of 16 is going to save herself for marriage (except my mother- she was a saint.) All they want is man-meat! And if they say they’re saving themselves, they are really saving their candy land for a guy with more money or a flashier car or a bigger rod. If this Chris loser still wants to date her then he must be the most desperate tool ever. This girl is playing him! (NOTE- The editors of Mr. Blog’s Tepid Ride wish to stress that Mr. Know-It-All does not reflect any official editorial policy. In other words, don’t complain to bmj2k.)

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DEAR ABBY: I am a professional costume wearer. By that, I mean I have been an elf, a giraffe, a moose, T-Rex and a character for a major hamburger chain. I am presently a character for a major cereal company. Once I am in costume, I am not allowed to speak.

Adults and older children think nothing of hitting me, kicking me, pulling at parts of my costume, and trying to knock me down. One 12-year-old even tried to “head butt” me while his father looked on and encouraged him!

I am in costume for about an hour or so before I can take breaks. It gets hot and sweaty inside these costumes. I have a limited field of vision and can’t see many of the oncoming attacks. Even if I saw each one, I would not be able to say anything to stop or deflect these random attacks. What I do is have a paid “helper” walk beside me. This is now discouraging such actions by adults and children.

I would ask parents to please remember that there are real people inside these costumes, which are not heavily padded. I feel each and every hit and kick as if I were wearing street clothes. Thanks for printing this. — H.S. IN COLORADO

Oh man this is hysterical. Ha! A grown man wearing an elf suit for a living. What a riot! Here is a list of real man jobs- lumberjack, pro wrestler, porn star. Here is a list of not real man jobs- wearing an elf suit, waitress, English teacher. Look feeb, when you put on one of those silly suits you are putting a target on your back. Just go to the real man handbook and look it up- mascots are there to be terrorized, taunted, torn, wedgied, whacked, sodomized, shit on, whatever. Guys who wear those suits are too puny to make it on the team but still want to hang around the locker room, if you know what I mean. Stop being such a cry baby and carry a knife, or better yet a gun. Fire a warning shot over some little kid’s head and he’ll think twice about ripping your tail off.

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Well, I’m out of drugs, out of booze, out of time. Some I’m out of here.