Back in Oregon an M.D. hobby farmer threw a "bringing in the hay" party. For me that would rank only slightly above the "shovelling out the hog barn" party.
1st wife and I did hold a demo party before a remodel. Left the installation to the professionals. Swinging the sledge was definately theraputic. Very little real work was done, most of the "demo" consisting of graffitti on the walls that were going to be removed. As the evening wore on the cleverness of the graffitti suffered.
Yeah, but Tom was more psychologically sophisticated.
4--
he had to be-- he couldn't offer joe & ben martinis.
A demo party like in 2 sounds like fun. Anything else is just daft.
They're just following the trend on "infertility parties," where couples trying to conceive invite over several guys to get drunk and help out.
Friends and I have had many such parties working on each others houses, especially in advance of major events like marriage and childbirth, when it really helps to have extra hands to tie up loose ends. The trick is to avoid friendships with people who are incompetent at basic renovation skills.
8--
yeah, but you're living in portlandia, right?
where basic competence with handicrafts is more widely assumed.
unlike among effete northeasterners.
8: And never, never be the only one with a truck.
9: Thanks, I refrained from saying it myself.
Sadly, truck ownership among us is less common than the ability to use a recip saw. It sucks to be The Guy With the Truck.
Off to pick up my daughters.
There is a certain, limited role for the old barn-raising / quilting bee tradition in modern life, though I fear its subtle mores are lost on the typical suburban home-owner. I have some pretty fond memories of collective efforts on behalf of a single individual; I remember in particular how the entire community showed up to gussy up the farm of a newly widowed neighbor before it was sold at auction. My prejudices in this regard are doubtless the product of a rural upbringing, but I think my experience is broadly generalizable.
1. Reciprocity is key. You should ideally have an established track record of contributing to this sort of thing for others, and having called on others to help, you must never hesitate to help when a subsequent need arises.
2. [Corrolary to 1] The number of friends who will consider themselves bound by this norm of reciprocity is necessarily limited; if you invite 50 people to your "painting party", you're way over the line. Game theory and cultural anthropology both have some important things to say in this regard. The older and more persistent the relationship, the better. Kinship ties are best.
3. To each according to his need. Your legitimate expectation of assistance is diminished by (1) the frivolousness of the need being served (e.g. putting in a jacuzzi) and (2) your available means to have it done professionally.
4. You must work visibly harder than everyone else: everything should be well-prepared and organized, you must continue to work while others take a break, etc.
5. You must accept assistance with extraordinary grace: not becoming too assertively directive, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, being generous with food and drink, etc.
Years ago, a friend's family organized a decorating party for him when he got married. They were dreadfully young [him 18, her 16], had no money and were moving into a nasty council flat. So, about 10 of us descended on his flat the weekend of their wedding. Thankfully his dad was a professional painter so we did the whole place in about 14 hours. Everything.
It was a fantastic gift and a really nice thing to be part of.
13 seems wise, too.
13--
"1. Reciprocity is key."
right. esp. with sawzalls.
if they won't reciprocate, they're not worth a damn.
5-- Okay, but he could have offered them candy or marbles, or whatever the equivalent was. He knew better.
Admittedly, it's daunting to imagine that you could convince intelligent adults that laying tile is going to be fun. But I could easily be convinced to help knock out walls--the correct ones, even!
13 is totally wise. Also I think it sucks to advertise such a thing as a "party"--you just ask a group of friends if they'll come over on Saturday and help you ___, and promise to provide beer and pizza or whatever.
16 - DOOD! Howdy! I lived on Merganser Street for about 6 months and wondered what a Merganser was but it was the days before Wikipedia and I was too lazy to go to the library to look it up. Then, serendipitously, I was at a museum of natural history and there was an exhibit on mergansers and I was like "aha!". I was just thinking this weekend of maybe using "merganser" as a pseud for something and YOU BEAT ME TO IT.
17: which is the standard way to handle moving when all of your friends have a) apartments (or otherwise limited amounts of stuff) and b) can't really afford movers. When you own furniture you can't lift by yourself(ves), there is a nice prisoners dillemma flavor to all of this.
A sawzall that won't reciprocate is a hacksaw.
it was the days before Wikipedia
Wait, what?
20--
a really heavy, awkward, expensive hacksaw.
I've been part of moving parties forever, and love them and the problems they pose. It used to be several times a year at least, and because I can drive trucks—rentals used to have two ranges of manual gears just like big-boy trucks—and handle dollies and two-wheelers and such, I used to be in demand. I miss that, the last time I did was two years ago when friends of mine moved, just the kind of people who forget how things aren't the same as when we were young, so they're great, but we had a blast. As I say, I miss it, but until my kids start moving, nobody I know needs this kind of help anymore.
A sawzall that won't reciprocate is a hacksaw
Technically, a sawzall that won't reciprocate is a keyhole saw
24--
typically, yeah.
but i didn't want to go into details of how 6" is average, and if you look around you can even find 9"'ers but they tend to go floppy, etc....
it's not that i disdain all low-hanging fruit myself. i just don't like to put it up for others to harvest.
Re 23: I Don't Pay can drive a two-speed transaxle? Keep on truckin', brother!
Considering the amount of initiative, strength and general competence my friends and I used to exhibit on them, it's actually rather surprising no dating interest ever grew out of those moving parties. Probably because the people were usually well-known and in relationships.
Even more surprising that nothing ever came of the numerous occasions when I was asked to drive out to some distant, god-forsaken suburban locale to fix and retrieve someone's broken-down car. Someone like Megan would have eaten up my doing that while explicating what was wrong, what I could do to fix it enough to get going, and what analogy it reminded me of. But lyrical engineering students is one type of person U of C just doesn't have.
I've never been asked to help demolish (or refurbish) a house, but a friend of mine who recently got married tried to convince a bunch of us (who were not in the wedding) that it would be REALLY fun to help set up the reception, set up the ceremony, organize the band, set up transportation to and fron the wedding site, drive the couple to get the wedding license, break down the reception, and basically do all of the things that a wedding coordinator/various flunkies would do.
Howdy, Becks! I may have beaten you to the pseudonym, but you still got to go to an exhibit on mergansers, and in this respect you have me at a disadvantage: I have never been to an exhibit on Beckses. In the larger scheme of things that seems cooler. For instance, you probably know more about my adopted animal than I do, so if you remember any fun facts about mergansers, please share!
(My knowledge of mergansers: they have awesome-looking crests, at least the common merganser does, and they can swim underwater. They can maybe do other things underwater too, but I believe this is not the blog for such speculation.)
I have never been to an exhibit on Beckses.
A brewery tour, perhaps?
I believe this is not the blog for such speculation
There is tremendous and disgusting variety in duck penis size and morphology.
33: Yes, you never know what you're going to see down there once you get the duck home, and not all surprises are good surprises.
31: Sadly, no. The only beer tour I've been on was at the New Belgium Brewery, and I quickly found that almost all of their beers are too sweet and malty for my tastes.
33, 34: If this is why I have problems dating, maybe I should give up on the idea of hiring a coach...
The Lake Wobegon Coot Migration was last week. I saw something like 5000 of them making themselves ready for the trip. We're planning to build a Coot Migration destination resort here.
37: 5000, huh? Did you at least get some phone numbers?
Coots taste fishy, they say. It's like a local taboo.
Young coots, Emerson, or old coots like you and I?
Whole coot families. Rafts of coots. Coot villages.
"Coots" is the formal name. The familiar name is "mudhens".
Exactly how well do you have to know a coot before you can address him as "mudhen"?
It depends. Some of them are very standoffish and haughty. I believe that they're trying to get the name "coot" replaced with "megaduck" too.
They should just change from "Coot" to "Gallinule" as their more southerly relatives have done.
This discussion of rallidae nomenclature lends credence to bitzer's suggestion that you all are effete northeasterners who can't use sawzalls. Even Emerson, who pretends to live in Lake W but who I suspect is actually a 26-year-old marketing consultant living in a loft in Soho.
What's a sawzall?
I agree with you, John is way off base if he thinks ducks and coots are as closely related as they superficially appear to be. Try living in the swamp and see what they say about each other when they think nobody is listening.
Ducks are of the family Anatidae, which belongs to a different order from the family Rallidae. The effect of a sawzall is pretty much the same on both, so there's that.
(punches the 14th president) Hurts, don't it!
49: It actually is like a Hertz donut. A contractor friend of mine learned about not leaving tools on ladders when he moved a ladder and the sawzall perched on top fell off and plunged into his thigh.
Ducks are of the family Anatidae, which belongs to a different order from the family Rallidae.
What's this "family", "order", etc crap? Real biologians use cladistics.
Real biologians
Have read Darwin in the original Aramaic.
max
['None of this Queen Victoria stuff.']
In related news, flip-flops are not appropriate footwear for demolition work. They don't slow nails down much at all.
53: Cladisticians need to get on the stick and update my library. Until then, kings play chess on fine-grained sand.
Do they still have woodshop and machining classes? Seems like liability would have done away with those. We got to work with lathes and bandsaws and the like in junior high.
I was wondering the same thing the other day. Not wondering enough to go find out, but wondering.
Do they still have woodshop and machining classes?
Not machining, but we had woodshop in high school, back in 2002. I'm pretty sure it's still there.
The teacher of this class was a little strange. Good at the woodworking stuff, but he used the first few minutes of every class (in our public school) to give a sermon of sorts, that tended to focus on the sinfulness of homosexuality and atheism. A few of us complained to the administration, but nothing really came about from that.
Coots do not like being reminded that they are in no way ducks. In real time I would have 5000 descend on your heads. 10,000 angry red eyes zeroing in on you all at once is no pretty sight.
All I learned in wood shop is to be very afraid of power tools, because they can take a couple of fingertips off. (Happened to a kid who rode my bus.) Oh, and compressed air can get into your arm through a tiny cut and blow up the skin like a baloon. (Just a story the teacher told.)
I would be better with power tools if I'd never taken wood shop.
Kings play chess on fat girls' stomachs.
We had metal shop at my high school. Apparently one kid did get stabbed rather impressively by an improperly mounted tool.
So to speak.
Kingfisher's plangent cries overpower foes' geste songs.
Knightly partisans create onslaught, finishing great slaughter.
Kindred persons cower on fens & grebey swamps.
Knitwear prevents cold over fine gray sweaters.
Katie presumes checking overdrafts & finances generally suck.
Known pedophiles covet our friendly, gentle, swains.
Kalamansi (pretentious citrus) offers fans great sourness.
Kaiser proscribed castrati over field, glen, sea.
Kalamata pits ccngest our freeways greatly, sir.
Kitchen professionals choose our fine grade steel.
Kites pitch charmingly over far grand scenes.
Kantian philosophers consider frequently good selves.
Kritarchy presumably confers overall freedoms, guaranteed senators.
Knee pads can facilitate godawful sex.
Ugh, I was modelling 78 after 75. Time to go to bed.
Kindly pluck courage or flee, good sir.
Kritarchy presumably confers overall freedoms, galls some.
There we go.
Ken's phallus crept over for gratuitous sucking.
Kaddish publisher considers offer: Farrar garrots Straus.
Kurosawa preferred cinematic opulence; Fellini, gratuitous sex.
Kerning problems covered our fair George's sins.
Ken's phallus crept over, finding Gayatollah's surprise.
Ken's phallus crept over for gratuitous sucking.
Knob polishing complete, Odile felches Grant's semen.
Kalgoorlie prams carry our fine girls & sons.
Kinks, pedantry corruptingly obfuscate folks' garbled sentences.
Kindly palming Craig's organ, Fergie got sprayed.
Knitted pseudonymous ctenophore ooze fluids, gnomes slouch.
Kabbalists peruse commenters' opii, giggle sheepishly.
Knife proceeds, cutting open fine garments, silken.
Kitchen policy: cook only feral giant sloth.
Kuznetsov plays counter our fantastic, gallant, seamen.
opii,
Kurt, pedant, corrects "opera" failure grading Sifu.
Kabbalistic practice can't obnubilate famously gusty Sabbath.
Khrushchev ponders conundrum: obsequiously fellate gorgeous Stalin?
Kurt pulls coins out from Gina's... satchel.
Kasparov's phoniest chess opening: feign grand-mal seizure.
Knee pads can facilitate godawful sex.
Knee pads can overwhelm fucking godawful ex.
max
['ssssss']
Karthago perit Caesarque occidit falce gravatim se.
99: Killjoy pissants curdle openhearted freewheeling style.
Karpov's premier counter opening: foe's gangrenous scrotum.
Hate to be a killjoy pissant, Sifu, but...
106: Klatch pursues compositions of finest grammatical style.
Kreskin proved cheater: one frankly gerade spoon.
Keynote phylogenist's clades overdo favorite genetic sequence.
Kill pagan compromisers of fearful godly sedulousness!
110: kicky purpling can obviate festering stuffiness.
"Kyrie!", perorated compassionate Owen, finding god's sympathy.
Krispy pastries chosen over family goodies satisfy.
Kingly paternity can often foul grand schemes.
King presents courtiers opportunity for glorious servility.
Kucinich polls commoners; obvious frontrunner gamed system.
Kucinich poles Clinton; Obama, Francis, Gravel spectate.
Krumping perhaps coolest Oakland funny gagster scene.
Slowly Lower Tilly's Pants To The Curly Hairs
Kassandra prognosticates: catastrophe overhangs future! Great sorrows!
Will I reveal too much ignorance if I reveal that I am unfamiliar with the original mnemonic on which 123 is based, as well as what thing soever it might serve to mnemonize?
Or if I use "what x soever", what about then?
Knurled penises can only fuck game sadomasochists.
max
['Kookaburra plays cantankerous orthodoxy for gamboling savants.']
And the original is "Some lovers try positions that they can't handle."
Kindling? Popsicles? Chilly ossuary fellatio, scooter.
But my college roommate's A&P prof was a dirty old man.
w-lfs-n clearly doesn't have a cousin who had to study for her medical boards.
Keep Portland clear of furries, ganja, specie.
Scaphoid, Lunate, Triqetrium, Pisiform, Trapezium, Trapezoid, Capitate, Hamate. From the Heian ready position, TJ has blocked my Google-fu.
Keep Papa content. Order fellatio-giving squadron.
Krypto, puissant canine, overwhelms feeble grip of Superman
As this thread approaches 200 (slowly):
"Kobe" perches calmly, observing 'foggetariat googlin' skillz.
Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.
139 is really the perfect mnemonic, of course.
I don't know how to tell you this, eb, but that's not a grammatical sentence.
Keep Portland clear of furries, ganja, specie.
Keelhaul pusillanimous, cowardly opponents for gold standard!
142 relies on construing "opponents for" as "opponents of", of course, but I'm tired.
Knight Phil Collins, or Fergie gets sliced!
Or, you can construe 'for' as 'for the sake of'. Do it for the gold standard, boys!
146—that's what I really meant.
The principle of charity in action!
It may not be a grammatical sentence, but the mnemonic was really helpful for studying French history. You can't understand King Philip's reign without getting into questions of class, order, family, and the growth of the state.
Kapellmeister preens, cavorts, ogles flamboyant Gayatollah solicitously.
Kentucky preens, Connecticut opines, Florida gets smashed.
146--that's what I really meant.
Kowtowed poster conspicuously opts for gooberish save.
150, I never needed mnemonics to remember that he came over for gay sex.
Kind, principled charity offers Frege general salvation.
God, that's shit. I'm going to bed.
Knights, prosperous crusaders once, finally got screwed.
We had metal shop at my high school. Apparently one kid did get stabbed rather impressively by an improperly mounted tool.
in my metal class, the actual tools used were about the only things one didn't get stabbed with - the teacher wasn't very interested in anything other than running his own small welding business out of the metalwork room, so we all just busied ourselves with the construction of an array of crude shivs and ninja throwing stars.
I walloped a guy with a file; what was I thinking, when hammers were available?
A month doesn't go by that I don't employ the skills I learned in metal shop. Whenever I peen over a bolt that keeps loosening, or dress a surface or solder something; the list goes on and on.
I haven't been doing much machining, of late. Too bad. And it has been years and years since last I welded.
But I never did take shop.
Knavery persists, confounds order, finishing gentility system.
Knockwurst pwns cock, outperforms Fontana's giant sausage.
King's progeny, crow offering, flails; gibbet sways.
Ever since 9th grade bio, I've kind of wanted a folding glass stool. It sounds as if it would be pretty.
I delivered an iron stool to a pharmacy once. I asked "Probably you should use some metamucil with this". The pharmacist said "I bet you've been waiting a long time to tell that one".
I've never delivered a black, tarry stool to anyone.
