This weekend was quite the handyman's special for ol' crabbydad. I got that "there's too much cluttery crapshit in this house" bug all up in my sphincter, and I went on a major purging spree. I started in the basement and just started chucking shit into a giant hefty-hefty-hefty bag. I didn't make a fucking dent in the impacted colon that is our basement, but I filled the bag, so at least it felt like a satisfying dump.
I also unearthed the camera tripod I was looking for that I was thinking of using for my "Cooking with Crabbydad" idea. I ripped it apart and had this bright idea that I was going to duct tape it to my bike helmet for the ultimate first-person-shooter-type head cam. I got it all taped up and it looked pretty fucking awesome, but when I strapped it to the ol' noggin', I almost a) fell over, and 2) choked myself with the helmet's neck strap. There was no way I was gonna be able to keep that thing on my head and cook a fucking meal without auto-asphyxiating myself in the process -- and that's not really the type of video vibe I was going for.
So I ripped the duct tape off and tried to figure out another way to mount the crabbycam. I ended up just sticking the tripod pole through the front of my belt and then taking another belt and cinching it around my chest, making a sort of Baby Bjorn camera holder. It works surprisingly well -- as long as I don't try to crouch down, 'cuz then I'll pull a Phineas Gage through the ol' nutsack. I'm gonna try to do a test run sometime this week and see just how unfunny and ill-advised this whole moronic idea is going to be. (My prediction: "extremely" and "way.")
I also decided to finish replacing the few remaining light switches/outlets that I promised the Old Lady I'd replace back in July of 2004. Things were going along swimmingly until I forgot to trip one of the breakers for the upstairs playroom, and I literally electrocuted myself. Serious lightning bolt from my fingertips to my already tingling toes. It was classic -- the Old Lady was at the grocery store and the spawnage were downstairs watching tv, so if I had actually succeeded in killing myself, no one would've found me for a good 3-4 hours. Luckily, it was only enough electricity to singe the hair off my knuckles and make me go "NYARRRRRGGGGGNNMRRFFFFLLNNNGGG!!!"
Oh, I also put up a wall coatrack hanger thing in the mudroom/back hallway area AND it didn't rip itself right outta the wall when I hung the spawnages' coats and backpacks on it, which is totally bonus for a crabbydad-screwing-something-into-the-wall type project. It'll probably crash to the floor overnight, but it managed to stay up for a whole day, so fuck yeah!
So what's that... three home-improvment projects in one weekend? Shit, man, I'm good until at least 2011.