Long Weekend Audio: Caboom!Cast

The urge struck us to do some more audio, so here we are. We had a lot of fun doing this one.

It started with me not saying go at the right moment. Woops. Welcome to me not being a good record button-pusher. Then we just rambled about the awesome weather, the Blue Jays winning again, and the coolness that is our balcony.

I don't know if you can hear what happened next, but somebody's car alarm similar to the one I described in this old post started going off, so Steve started imitating it...at which point, Trix brought us back to the reason we decided to do this audio in the first place.

Unfortunately you can't hear it, but Trix started circling us, puffing furiously. We put the mic in her face, but she did not puff hello. I described some new behaviour Trix does when there are fireworks or thunder storms, or our new term, thunderworks! The fear has been with her all along, but it has changed recently. Oh yeah? and I meant 1 a.m. not p.m. woops.

And as we finished up our thunderworks discussion, we came up with another term. Nicky Nicky Blind door: the act of a blind person knocking on the wrong door, realizing it's the wrong house, and getting the hell out of dodge, leading the person who lives in the wrong house to believe they've been a victim of Nicky Nicky 9 Door. And here's the link to the story of that blind guy getting shot in the face when he entered the wrong house. Oh yeah, and here's the story of the drunk unintentional houseguest we had one night. Before we move on, here's that car alarm bit I was talking about, a super detailed account of Shoe's surprise 40th birthday party, and a picture of the yes please burger. Holy crap, how many things did we have to mention in that short stint?

Moving on, we talked some more about the hot weather, and the plants a friend and I are planting in the Enabling Garden. Hey, anybody know where the reference "fuck this cat, and fuck this door!" came from? Go ahead and take a guess. At this point, we came up with our third invented word, Friedo (pronounced "fried o"): dog left in a hot car. We also made up some new lyrics to what would be the Frido song. And you know what? We should have stuck to that song...because I proceeded to ruin the next song we attempted. Even these people did a better job.

This led to an awesome story of how, in his CFRU days, Steve unintentionally insulted electronica. R2D2, a television and a vacuum having a threesome, you say? What a description.

Wow. This thing goes everywhere. We went from how you can't please everybody on the radio and on websites to me apologizing for not realizing that the Jonathan Sory story was more tragic than it seemed on the surface.

...which somehow led in a long and winding way to things taking on a totally different meaning if you're just listening to them, which then led to talking about screen reader users who just go by the way words sound and don't check the spelling, which can lead to some rather creative typos. Man, if you're bored, I understand.

Before we signed off, I made fun of Steve's loud phone text message noises, and Trix reappeared, looking all scared all over again.

And that about does it for another one. I think coining 3 new terms is pretty good. We enjoyed putting it together, hope you enjoy listening. Go get it in all its 1 hour and 7 minute glory.

Garage? Toilet? What's The Difference?

This story brings back memories of the old story of Austin Horries Purifoy

A woman heard her garage door slam, and her dog bark. Then she saw a naked man in her garage. So she called police. By the time they got there, they found the drunk, naked man had taken a big ol' crapperoo on her garage floor. But he had a perfectly valid excuse, or so he thought. He thought he was in his own garage. So, the moral of the story is don't walk into Thomas O’Neil's garage. You never know what you might step in.

Howdy, Neighbour!

Even though we spend a considerable portion of our time here relating stories of folks doing horrible things and many of you seem to like that, it's nice to remind ourselves now and then that good does still exist in the world. Among all of the stupid criminals, horrible parents and people who can't hear trains over their headphones, humanity still manages to blossom and flourish.

Case in point, this lovely fellow from New Jersey. So considerate of his fellow man is he that when he damaged a woman's screen while braking into her home, he offered to fix it once he realized it wasn't her house he had meant to hit.

He was even nice enough to stick around for a while to chat.

The homeowner, Maria Cardona, tells The Press of Atlantic City that the man made her nervous as he told her about his family and kept a hand in his pocket. She says he was "really polite," but she just wanted him to leave.

He eventually did leave, but there is no mention in this tale of happiness of whether or not he later paid the intended friend a visit during his neighbourhood rounds. If he did, I'm sure they had a lovely time catching up on life over some tea and cookies.

Communities coming together for social time is so refreshing, isn't it?

Everybody Wants To Meet The Girl Next Door, But There Are Better Ways To Go About It Than This

Good idea: Taking a shower to sober yourself up after a long night of drinking.
Bad idea: Taking your sober up showerat the neighbour lady's house because you got lost on the way back to your own.

"He was very apologetic," Superintendent Daniel Shean said.

The man got lost on the way to his house in Katherine on Wednesday night.

He walked into the home and took a shower in an attempt to sober up.

The 34-year-old householder was asleep upstairs.

She woke up, heard the water running and frantically rang the police.

When officers arrived, they found the 42-year-old sitting on the woman's verandah - dressed again.

He said "sorry" to the police and woman many times after realising his mistake.

The man, who has not been named, ended up spending a few hours in the drunk tank to finish what the shower had started.

I'm sure there's a good thing he had a shower before jail so he didn't have to deal with any dropped soap joke in there somewhere, but we're not the type of people who would say something like that.

I Don't Know What's More Smashed, Him Or The Door

You know, at least Karl Kornrumpf was close to his house when he tried to break down the wrong door. He was only one street over, not 8 miles from it, or worse yet, 46 miles from it. Two things stand out. That's one tough door, and he sure seems like an honest guy. I can't imagine waking up after the incident wondering how the hell I got to jail.

It all started with some drinks and an afternoon stroll. Then, he thought he'd come back home, but couldn't get in. So, he smashed glass panels on the front door and kicked a utility door. Neither would yield.

So, there he was, wabbling on the porch, when I guess a police officer happened by and told him that nope, drunken feller, this isn't your house, and took him to jail.

The next thing he says he remembers is waking up in jail. He doesn't even remember smashing the door. Eek. That would be pretty scary.

But he seems like a good guy. He wants to pay for the damages...as soon as he knows the homeowner won't come out swingin'.

I love this quote.

When asked what lesson he'd taken away from his arrest, he said, "not to walk on the streets while I'm drinking."

Sounds good.

B and B? Nope, Try B and E

That would be a weird thing to have happen. You're sitting outside in your yard with relatives, when one of them goes inside and finds a credit card on the stairs that doesn't belong to you or anyone there. You soon find out that it belongs to the strange man sleeping in your bed, who turns out to be a confused man by the name of Walker Bruce. Somehow, he thought your house was a bed and breakfast, came in, left his credit card on the stairs for payment, and went to bed. Now, he's been taken by police to the hospital so they can figure out what the hell's wrong with him. They think he's on drugs, but they don't know.

I think everybody was lucky in this case. Bruce didn't take anything from the home, and they didn't take his credit card and take it for a ride, and maybe he can get some help now.

If The Key Doesn't Work, Check The Address.

You know how I thought a guy drunkenly thinking he was home when he was 8 miles from home was bad? Here's a guy 46 miles from home. Aaron Ward pissed on himself, stripped off his clothes and tried to climb into what he thought was his window. How about nope?

Now, I don't know how many miles from home he'll be while at the jail, but that'll be where he'll be staying for the next little bit.

Soon He'll Have New Neighbours To Feud With...

Remember the whole Richard Zeh fiasco? Well, the guy who put up the Craigslist ad, Philip Conran, has been arrested. What a tool. He was feuding with his neighbour, so said she was wishing to fulfill her dream of having group sex, and posted her address on Craigslist. I guess she got quite a few interested folks dropping by. That would be scary. Not everyone is just going to go away, especially when they're responding to an ad like that. She's lucky nobody turned violent towards her.

I think this guy would be surprised to know that he indirectly caused the whole Richard Zeh thing to happen. It makes you realize you never know what chain of events your actions set in motion.

I still can't get over what a tool Conran is though. He's 42. You'd think he would have matured beyond the level of thinking that would be funny, haw haw.

Wrong House, Wrong Set

This guy can't win for losin', and then he just becomes a loser.

Richard Zeh was responding to a Craigslist ad for a group sex encounter. But, he came to the wrong house. When he figured out it was the wrong house, he went to the correct address as listed in the ad. But then, he found out the ad was bogus. So, he did something only Richard Zeh could possibly understand.He went back to the wrong house and groped the female resident. Yeah, because that's a good idea.

I really don't have any other words except huh?

Raid: Kills Seniors Dead

Imagine this scenario. You're living in your house, minding your own business, when suddenly, police are pounding on your door. They're convinced some dangerous criminal is hiding in there. After they find you in there, and noone else, they come to realize that your house has been entered into a department-wide computer system as some kind of test case. They apologize to you, and say it will never happen again. But it does. Three times a week for years, police come pounding on your door in search of phantom criminals. This is the story of Walter and Rose Martin.

The elderly couple has been living with this for years, and one of these times, a raid will for sure kill one of them with the stress of it all. They have been assured that the house has been removed from the database, but it keeps happening. The even weirder part is the house's previous owner had dealt with a similar situation, only his was caused by a devious neighbour calling in false complaints.

Why the hell would you enter a random house into a system for testing purposes? It's about as bad as putting drugs in random people's bags to test drug-sniffing dogs.

The police say this should stop, but the Martins are understandably sceptical. I say if there's even one more raid, they should sue the police for this. They should be compensated for living through 8 years of false raids.

Bank Want A Lawsuit?

What a horrible thing to come home to. You walk up to your house and find the locks have been changed, there's a padlock on the door and a note telling you to contact Bank of America because you've been foreclosed on. But you've been making all the payments and you never got a note in the mail about this. You also find out that your house has been damaged, your electrical and water lines are cut, antifreeze has been poured down your pipes, your things are scattered and your pet parrot is gone. When you contact Bank of America, you get told that they're sick and tired of hearing from you and to not call back. But they might know where your bird is. When they finally tell you, they say you have to go get it. They eventually go "oops, we got the wrong house," but only when you retain an attorney do they offer to maybe fix the damage they did to your house. That's exactly what happened to Angela M. Iannelli. She's suing. I hope she wins.

Man, Bank of America just keeps doing prickish things. I know all the banks are assholes sometimes, but Bank of America are the same assholes who tried to get a thumb-print from a dude with no arms.

I hope her lawyer is good. I'm sure she'll need a good one, she's going up against a bank.

When On The Range, It's Good To Know Where Home Is

Derrick Thomas Alger needs to cut back on the booze just a touch. I have a feeling, if he wasn't drunk, he wouldn't be wandering around in shorts and a cowboy hat and boots threatening cabbies with guns, coming into the wrong house, and then threatening to kill the family's dog...and then asking who the family was. Uh, er, you're in the wrong house, buddo. Now you're going to the big house.

And B.A. Morelli needs to consult a thesaurus, or something to give him more ways to say "according to police." There were 11 instances of that phrase in the story. That's too many! That's about as bad as the story that kept saying "deputies wrote."

Somebody's Been Sleeping On My Couch...And There He Is!

That does it, we're starting a wrong house tag.

Early Sunday morning, 34-year-old Christopher Paul Silga of St. Martin, Mississippi,was hit with DUI and trespassing charges after a night on the town.

His troubles began when he arrived what he thought was home from the bar. Rather than being safe and sound at his girlfriend's place, he was instead on the couch of a couple that was not expecting him. He had clearly made himself comfortable as not only was he sleeping soundly, but he was also cuddling a teddy bear. The homeowners asked him to leave, which he did, driving off in his Silverado.

Police caught up with him not long after and found him driving in the manner you would expect a guy who has just been torn away from a sleep and a hug in a house that's not his to be driving. He refused to stop for them, and before all was said and done he had ploughed through a row of mailboxes, refused to take a breath test and even used the classic I've only had 2 line, though he did admit that those 2 were big ones.

The police took him to a place where he could go back to sleep presumably without anything to cuddle, where he stayed until Sunday evening when he made bail and was released. The story ends there, so I'm assuming he spent Sunday night in the company of people who knew he was coming.

Another Reason Sleepwalking Is Dangerous

It's a good thing our wandering drunk didn't wander into this apartment. Instead of acting like reasonable human beings and maybe calling the police when they came home from drinking and found a sleeping man in their apartment, the 3 of them beat the everloving hell out of him. Come on! There were 3 guys versus one sleepy man. It's not like they felt threatened. I'm sure if he woke up and started to actually fight back, they could have held him back. Way to go Derryk Burton Berger, Jonathan Chun, and Kevin Kang Lee. You're real smart.

If We Arrest The Drunk Naked Guy, The Terrorists Win!

Here's another drunk guy who walked into the wrong house. Poor Teddy Brisseaux won't be able to say that he just dreamed this one.

Police were dispatched to a Bruce Avenue house shortly before 4:30 a.m. Sunday after being told about a house break-in at a home a block from the defendant's home.

When officers arrived, the home's residents were screaming for help from the second-floor windows.

As officers climbed the stairs to the second floor they spotted a pair of jeans, undershorts, a t-shirt and a set of keys along the route. The clothes smelled of alcohol and urine, police said.

Upstairs, police said, Brisseaux was sleeping naked in a child's bed.

The parents were asleep in their bedroom when their 6-year-old son ran into their room, woke them up and told them a man was sleeping in his bed. The boy said he was watching television in his room when the nude Brisseaux entered, lay down on the boy's bed and went to sleep.

But Brisseaux insists that his arrest was an incident of racial profiling. Um sure.

What's with all these drunks coming home to the wrong house? I mean, we're blind, and we've come home hammered a time or two, and neither of us have ever opened the wrong door, or tried to unlock the wrong house.

Goldy-Schlogs And The Three Bewildered Residents

Well, it looks like not just blind drunks end up in the wrong house after a night of fun. Hell, we already knew that people with functioning eyes can stumbel into the wrong apartment in the same building. Now, we've discovered that if you get to a certan level of drunkenness, you can be eight miles from home and not notice. This guy showed an amazing lack of power of observation. He

• was 8 miles from home,
• in a house that probably looked nothing like his,
• with a cat that wasn't his,
• eating food out of a fridge that I'm sure didn't look familiar,
• and he finished off by taking off his pants and climbing into a strange bed!

Luckily for him, the family forgave him, didnt' press charges, and sent him home with soup, cookies, and spare ribs. That's one lucky drunk. I love how they talk about his wife "retrieving" him. Maybe in that respect, he wasn't so lucky. I'm sure they had a few words.

Nice Work, Boys

I have great respect for anyone who is willing to risk life and limb on a daily basis to keep law and order in the world, but man, cops can be real shitheels sometimes. For example...

A MINNEAPOLIS SWAT team busts into the home of an innocent family while trying to raid a different house, shoots at them (yes I'm aware the family fired first but who wouldn't have?), and leaves the place in shambles. Nobody disputes that any of these things happened and there's an ongoing investigation into why they did. Yet, somehow, the officers involved deserve and have been given
awards recognizing the bravery and professionalism with which they handled the situation.

Police Chief Tim Dolan explained the honours thusly:

"The easy decision would have been to retreat under covering fire. The team did not take the easy way out. This is a perfect example of a situation that could have gone horribly wrong, but did not because of the professionalism with which it was handled."

Could have? How about did, chief. In fact the only way it could have gone more wrong than it did was if your professionals had killed somebody, something that happens much more than it should.

Think of the message you're sending to the public with your actions. If you think that message is anything other than we're above the law or gees, maybe I should start monumentally fucking things up and endangering folks more often, it's been a while since I've won anything and I figure I'm due, you're sadly mistaken.

Your city should be embarrassed to have you as a top public servant, and you should be embarrassed by your own thoughtlessness.

Story Time With Steve

Police: Drunk Woman Slept In Neighbor's Home

This story isn't particularly funny, but posting it is a good excuse to tell one of my own that's significantly better. In fact it's one of my favourite stories to tell, but this is going to be my first crack at writing it down so I hope I can do it justice without being able to do the actions and impressions.

On a friday night long ago, so long ago that there was no Vomit Comet, our old roommate decided that he was going out to see some friends. Being the gentleman that he is, he asked if I would like to accompany him. Being tired and not quite up for it I politely declined, but told him to have fun and that I would make sure the door was open for him. Keep this in mind, it becomes important.

Time passes as it so often tends to do in life and eventually I decide it's time to crash. I further decide that the couch would be just the place to do so, and promptly settle in for a long summer's nap.

More time passes, then some more and some more until the clock on the wall says 1 o'clock.

In my sleepy haze I'm pretty sure I hear footsteps coming up the building stairs. I realize that yes I do hear them and they appear to be getting closer.

"Roommate must be coming home" I think to myself, trying to muster enough sense to say hello when he gets in.

The door opens.

"Hey man," I say. "How was your night?"

"bazzabuzzawoogggooogogogoaboa," he replies.

"What" I ask.

The answer comes in the form of a thud as he crashes face first to the wooden floor.

"Jesus, I wish I'd tagged along. Sounds like a hell of a time," I joke while trying to open my eyes and figure out just what to do.

"fluhbuvvvvvergaboggaluzzzzerggabacka" is the only reply.

"Can you get up" I ask, pulling my own self off of the couch.

"Mmmmmmmbzzzzaaaarrrggg."

That seems to mean yes, as he stumbles to his feet and tries once again to walk across the room.

Wam!

Ok, perhaps I thought too soon.

"Fmugggggabalooberrrrrrzzzzism."

That one I think I know. I'm pretty sure it means help me dude, I'm fucked.

Wait, he's getting up again, and by God I think he's going to make it to the love seat.

Boom!

Well, maybe not. He was close though, I'll give him that much. Close enough to fall into it and slide down, taking the cushions and the embarrassingly large pile of junk on top of them with him.

"Shit man, let me help you."

"Snore.......Snore.........Snore......."

"Ok, have it your way, I'm going to bed."

And so I do.

Once again, time passes. I wake up and realize that gees, I need to pass something of my own and step out of the bedroom.

From down the hall I hear snoring.

"Good" I say to myself, "nobody died."

I notice that the snoring isn't coming from the floor anymore, but rather from the very couch I had been sleeping on right before everything went to hell.

"Wow, he made it, this is good."

I go back to bed and give him no more thought.

Yet again, time passes.

It's time for a shower. I leave the room again and head into the bathroom, not listening for any sound from the other parts of the house, confident that Roommate is ok. I even manage to shower
without incident
you'll be happy to know.

Then the fun begins.

I'm standing in the bathroom drying myself off when in the distance I hear the front door open.

"Morning dude," a far too cheerful voice says.

"Um...hey," I respond. "How you feeling?"

"Great," the voice of Roommate replies.

"Wow, I'm impressed" I say, trying to wrap my head around what exactly is happening here.

"Why's that," he enquires.

"Well, considering the shape you were in when you got home last night I figured you were done for til Monday."

The next words out of his mouth were ones I was not expecting.

"I never came home last night, I stayed at Buddy's house."

"No you didn't" I argue, "you came in about 1 or so and fucking fell on the floor 3 or 4 times. And man, you smelled like a distillery, it was something."

"Nope, I just got in. I went for a run with the guys and now here I am."

"Nope, that's impossible."

"I'm telling you that's what happened."

"And I'm telling you it's not. Quit messing with me."

"I'm dead serious man, I just got home. I didn't come back here."

"Wow, you really are serious" I decide, hearing the honesty that you can hear in people's voices when you know them well. "So if you didn't sleep here, then who did?"

"No way somebody walked in and slept here," he says. "that's messed up."

"They did unless it was the most vivid dream in history. Yeah, maybe that's what it was, let me check the living room."

I walk out and find what I knew I would find, a complete mess of cushions and junkmail strewn over the floor.

"Yes, we had company," I confirm."

He laughs.

"We had company, but where is it now?"

I check the couch. It's empty.

"I think it's gone," I say. "Hopefully it didn't take any of our stuff with it."

We set about looking around the place to make sure that nothing is out of order. Eventually we're satisfied that everything is fine and I tell him the whole story, concluding by saying that he's got to get new keys, because if he doesn't I'm locking his dumb ass out next time. He laughs and we proceed to have a fine rest of the weekend.

I'm sure that many of you are wondering how something so major could have slipped bye somebody who rags on stupid people for fun and profit. Ok, mostly fun, but whatever. To understand how this happened you need to know 2 things about me. The most important is that I'm blind, so I didn't get a good look at the guy. The second is that I was half asleep at the time, and to me the strange alcoholic sounded a lot like good old Roommate.

We never did find out who it was that helped us throw an unwanted slumber party. I even told the story on my old radio show hoping somebody would call in and fess up, but it just wasn't to be. I have an idea, but I think it's probably for the best that I don't know. I'll settle for knowing that I wasn't robbed or worse. the story is a lot funnier that way.

This Is My House Damn It!

Let's hope this never happens to me. I'm always afraid I'll open the wrong door in the apartment building and piss someone off, just like this blind intoxicated Harris County man did. The story is too funny on its own, so I'll just quote it and laugh.

HOUSTON, July 24 (UPI) -- A blind man who drunkenly stumbled into the wrong Harris County, Texas, home was injured when the homeowner fired at him with a shotgun.

The blind man, who lives nearby the scene of the incident, had mistaken the home for his own and argued with the homeowner about whose house they were in, the Houston Chronicle reported Tuesday.

"It was not his residence," said Lt. Michael Young of the Harris County Precinct 4 constable's office. "The homeowner requested that this person leave and the interloper refused, insisting it was his house."

The homeowner fired off a round of birdshot when the intoxicated man approached him, grazing his face and head.

The man, whose family said he had been involved in similar incidents in the past, was taken to a local hospital to treat his injuries, which were described as minor.

No charges are expected to result from the incident.

I love the term interloper, and the fact that this man has done this before. Has he gone into the same house by mistake before and the dude's patience had gotten thin? Has he been shot before? Maybe he should take better notes on where he, er, lives so he doesn't have to have doctors pick birdshot out of his cranium. Maybe he'll have a better memory now of where home is.

Oops, Wrong House

If you think you're having a rough day, take a look at
this poor bastard's story.

It's a touching story of boy meets girl in a rape fantasy chat room, boy and girl arange a meeting, boy breaks into wrong house and tries to fantasy rape wrong woman who retaliates by hoofing him in the bag before our hero discovers that he's in the wrong house.

Now boy is pulling some strings with the court system to get himself out of some rape charges. He had to admit to burglary to do it and could still face a year in prison for his mistake. Suddenly that wrong turn you took on the way to the bar on Saturday night doesn't piss you off so much now does it?