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“The Dark Side” by Addiction – Decisions, Decorations and Dilemmas Part II

Posted by dabyrdman33 on October 8, 2010

Confessions of a Cuban Cigar Smoker

 

Decisions, Decorations and Dilemmas Part II: DAMN, DAMN, DAMN…….AGAIN.

 

Before I go on to meaningful topics some short.  I didn’t speak on Florida when I did Good Times.  And everyone loves Florida Evans so how can I not love Florida Evans, wife to James?  Always cooking, always there with a friendly word of advice.  Well my first question is what the fuck did Florida do all day?  I mean in the 70’s there were more “homemakers” to be sure but if your man gets a new job every 5.3 days there ain’t a lot of home to make.  When all you can afford to eat is a big ass white box with black letters that says “Flakes” then producing dinner is not an all day affair.  And if you ain’t never had cereal in a bowl with “milk” you made by adding water and shaking the jug yo ass ain’t grow up poor.

Florida ain’t get a job till season 5; she wasn’t in very much of season 4.  But during season 1-3 she wasn’t doing shit.  No hair braiding, she wasn’t running like a corner store out of her apartment, she ain’t have no weed for sale.  That bitch ain’t have shit else to do mind you but you could not go to her house and get a pickle with a peppermint stick in the middle of it or a Little Hugs or a new weave, nothing fucking useful.  She ain’t do shit but get up, smoke Newports and watch TV all day.  You might think Florida didn’t smoke but if you lived in Cabrini Green, had three children and a bum ass husband you smoking something, Newports is the least offensive shit on that list so that alone is giving her a pass.

Now malaise, in and of itself, is not the worst thing that a person can do wrong.  But there is more to the story I think, look at the corroborating evidence.  I’m pretty sure that Wylona was a ho.  Remember every episode was two weeks of real time, in many episodes Wylona Woods had two or three different “dates”, sometimes Penny would stay over to the Evans house so Wylona could entertain.  Actually instead of a ho Wylona might have been a pro, I gotta believe her nightstand done had more money put on it than the entirety of the Rikers Island Commissary (pretty sure that one will lose all the white people lol).  And who in god’s name would give Wylona a damn child, I wouldn’t let that bitch watch my goldfish and you fucking expect those things to die.

Back on task, Thelma we’ve already discussed, hoish tendencies for sure.  Penny, I’m pretty sure she grew up and showed her titty at the super bowl.  Flashing your man (or woman, I ain’t forgot you dykes) a little bit of tit is sexy.  Showing all of Cleveland your boobie, much less so.  And if showing your titty to the entire world doesn’t prove your hoishness she also lived with Jermaine Dupree, and who else besides a ho would fuck a midget?  So if every woman around you is a ho, what’s the likelihood that you too are hoing?  I’m pretty sure given her copious amount of free time Florida Evans had more sticks in her mouth than a goddamn lollipop test pilot.  It’s no wonder James started hitting the pipe, you out there trying to make a way you gotta come home every day and wonder why none of “your” kids looks like each other let alone looks like you.  And then on top of that you walk thru the door and Florida’s husky ass is laying on the couch relaxed, smelling freshly bathed and smoking a Newport.  In case you don’t know if you come home every day and your significant other always smells not just clean, but freshly bathed downy fucking fresh you might need to have a fucking nanny cam pointed directly at your bed.

Aight you still ain’t buying it, I got more coincidences.  You put together enough coincidences and pretty soon you will find some facts.  If you have ever lived in the projects you know this is true: everything there is broken.  Elevators, stair rails, toilets, light bulbs, stoves; don’t shit work in a high rise project building.  I mean right down to schools, families, love EVERYTHING IS BROKEN IN THE PROJECTS!  Somehow tho everything in the Evans apartment ALWAYS worked yet Bookman’s ass was ALWAYS at they damn apartment.  You prolly thought because he was fat he was there to sponge some of they brown meat or something.  I can promise you that he was there to see after some brown meat because he definitely wanted his tube steak marinated if you get my drift.

Still ain’t buying it?  Aight remember this dude:

“My name is Lennay, and I got plentay, if I ain’t got it there ain’t any”

Lenny was a booster, he acquired shit in bulk from some location via shady means and displaced it at other locations for cheaper prices, kinda like a ghetto ass Wal-Mart.  The Evans clan wasn’t broke, they were brk, cause they were too poor to buy fucking vowels so why was Lenny always at they house?  Sometimes Lenny the booster who always went somewhere people wasn’t buying shit and Bookman the super who always went somewhere there wasn’t shit to fix showed up in the same episode.  Clearly Florida done taken two way farther than Skytel paging ever did.

Why is there no overt proof?  How could there be no leaks of this information?  Well remember in the 70s and 80s there was no 24 hour news cycle.  That and lets call a spade a spade, Florida was 284 lbs, 4 foot 2, has Shafts haircut and she had a neck  like a nose tackle; that’s not exactly the kind of conquest you post on your facebook page.  And please don’t act like you have never made unfortunate decisions about where you stick your dick, we have all woken up at least once in a drunken stupor looking at a back hairy enough that there might be ticks hiding in there and thought “please let this girl be wearing a sweater in bed” or looking at a pair of panties on the floor that looked like a size “2…..be continued” and wondered exactly how much of that lump is her.  Every man or woman reading this has been somewhere at 1:50 AM and looked around to see which of their friends might see them before they took the three shots they hurriedly just purchased over to the less than attractive girl or accepted the three shots from the less than attractive guy.  We have all been in “last chance for head” darkness and taken whatever light we could find to get out.

Except Bdub.  Bdub is the MacGyver of head, you could drop that boy in the Sahara desert with a paper clip, an ounce of sulfur and a hairnet and in less than twenty minutes he would parley that shit into a broad who would happily do ATM and a twelve pack of Bud Light.  That’s just his talent.  Anywho all these encounters ain’t bad, I ain’t joking I had a big girl in college once who sucked my dick like she thought I was gonna cum Skittles.  Ain’t no blowjob like an enthusiastic blowjob.

Anyway since Florida had a closer resemblance to Chuck Berry than to Halle Berry I’m pretty sure no one was trumpeting that shit from the rooftops.  But either Florida was a ho, or she just loved dick flavored breath mints…..that were shaped like dicks……and people carried in their underwear.  And by people I mean men.  That’s why James was always mad, it wasn’t those kids.  Shit if you live in the projects and have three kids and none of them are dead, in jail, or in a gang you are up for parent of the fucking year.  Its cause Florida smelled like BVDs and he only wore fruit of the loom ya heard?

I still can’t talk about JJ.  That’s still embolism causing levels of anger.

Before I talk about air flow, and after that air quality, we need to talk about juice boxes.  It’s germane to the discussion.  Now given you either can regularly borrow a computer or own one (how else would you be reading this) I prolly shouldn’t have to explain juice boxes but some people don’t understand juice boxes.  Somewhere in America there are kids whose school clothes look like they mom shopped for them in a scavenger hunt.  They are wearing shoes that look like they were in a fight……and lost.  You look into these little urchins faces and you wonder is that dirt or is this muthafucka going into the bush to fight Charlie?  They don’t have to be poor they could live in Ashburn or Gainesville, but because they knuckle dragging, bible thumpin parents believe that gods will is useful as birth control they have 8 kids instead of two and are stretched a little thin.  And to these 8 kids well Little Hugs are juice boxes.

You don’t know Little Hugs?  Little Hugs are these little plastic jugs, shaped like barrels.  They have aluminum foil tops and contained in these barrels is some kind of liquid that is so brightly colored it could only be some sort of industrial cleaning product or the sperm of a radioactive alien.  And the shit tastes like maybe they washed a fruit with it, or possibly washed the bowl some fruit was sitting in with it.  And then mixed that shit with starch and liquid plumber. I mean seriously as an adult you might chose to drink from your grandmothers snuff can rather than to drink a Little Hug.  They named it Little Hugs cause that’s what you need as you feel that shit burning thru your liver and spleen.  It’s also killing off your reproductive organs, but if you can actually feel it in your spleen you gotta agree that’s some pretty bad shit.

And you don’t want to be that guy that gives a Little Hugs kid an actual juice box.  Firstly because they will prolly go into a diabetic coma, their body has been set up carefully to process industrial waste not actual sugar.  Secondly they will go home and slap they momma the next time she calls a Little Hug juice, that shit ain’t even qualified to be the waste of a juice by product.  Thirdly they ain’t never gonna leave yo damn house.  Lord Dü Montę gave his Little Hugs drinking next door neighbors kids juice boxes and they been squatting in his yard so long in a week they all gonna be common law.  But fourth and most importantly, they asses will suck that juice box up so hard part of the container will travel halfway up the straw before they stop.  The entire thing will collapse in on itself and cause a world ending black hole, and that collapse is what connects us back to air flow.

Before we really get into this I want to admit, things in my office are probably slightly over engineered.  Mostly because 95% of the time this room will be used by just me.  And I typically don’t smoke more than once a day, tho I’m mentally accounting for that pace to double since I’ll be able to smoke at will now.  Not just at will, I’ll be able to smoke AND watch TV or smoke AND get things off my DVR. Being able to not have to choose between leisure activities and instead combine them will help me better maximize my time.

Of the remaining 5% of time the room is in use, 4% of the time the room will be used by my children to retrieve a bike or a scooter and leave the garage door open so they can raise my blood pressure and force me to get in that ass like a thong in a strip club.  So that remaining 1% or roughly 88 hours will be me and other people.  Prolly less than 24 of that will be more than one other person.  But I’m engineering this room like that’s it’s a herf time all the time state.  You almost never hurt anything by over engineering, but if you under do it and have to go back and change it that can be very costly.

But let’s do air quality first.  Now air quality is just what it sounds like, I won’t define the term because if it puzzles you then you never would have got this far in the post.  If you are going to smoke in a room you have three choices to keep it fresh: produce oxygen (it’s actually scientifically  possible), remove the offending particulate from the air or exchange your soiled air for new fresh air.

The simplest of these methods, typically the cheapest to implement, is to exchange your soiled air for fresh air.  Air flow into a room (intake) and out of a room (exhaust) need to be in equal measure, in other words you need to take as much air out of a room as you bring into it.  If you think of the room, my garage, as a large juice box then it makes more sense.  If you blow on a juice box straw since there is nowhere for the air to escape then you create positive pressure and the walls of the juice box expand to accommodate the air it can’t vent.   If you suck on the straw of the juice box like Supahead backstage at a Bobby Brown concert then the walls collapse under the negative pressure.

Supahead astounds me personally.  I can understand taking pride in a job well done but damn really?  Cause you ain’t suck one or two dicks to get a name like Supahead, hell you ain’t suck one hundred dicks to get that name.  You have sucked enough dicks that your throat odometer done “turned over”.  You done sucked so many dicks that evolution is gonna give your children retractable teeth to better facilitate the slobbing of knobs.  You have sucked so many dicks that your self-respect could be pictured on a milk cartoon cause you have gone past sucking dick for love, for fun or for money all of which I consider noble pursuits if you ain’t my kid. You out there at some point just sucking dick because you never know how this could turn out, the fact you married Eddie from Family Matters is proof those odds weren’t working in your favor. And why in the world did you use Supahead, was the name Swallow Gobblecock already spoken for?  And what kinda ignorant shit has gone on in your life that you would be proud to be known as Supahead in order to sell thirteen thousand books?

Back on task again.  Currently my garage has no airflow.  I mean there are minute amounts under the door between the garage and the house and under the garage doors the car comes in but not much to speak of.  A drawing will help here I suspect:

 

 

The drawing is mostly exact, I ain’t a damn architect.

Since I know that I need relatively equal amounts of air (air movement is usually measured in cubic feet per minute or CFM). I had planned to install an intake fan where green X is near the top of the picture and an exhaust fan where the red X is on the top right.  This would have the tremendous benefit of bringing in fresh air that was already conditioned (heated or cooled) to a comfortable indoor temperature by pulling it out of the house.  There were two major road blocks to this plan:

Cock sucking, soul leaching, pox upon fucking humanity HVAC people who insist that fresh air means air from the outside.  Not one of the ones I talked to had any idea that even if my house smelled like feet and stale corn chips that would be more desirable than two day old cigar smoke.  Their insistence on bringing in fresh air or no air at all (which we’ll cover in the heat pump portion of the room discussion) was a real downer.

–  My bride.  For the uninitiated among us you know why all is fair in love and war?  Because love is fucking war!  Marriage is a constant engagement of friendly fire in a country of ever changing boundaries.  If you say no to something today you have to say yes to something tomorrow to keep the peace.  It’s like Israel v Palestinians, cept slightly more civil.  You are just hoping you don’t have to be the Palestinians all the time because that’s not fun.

My plan was to fly that vent into the laundry room in under the radar and that by the time she noticed it there can be no argument.  That’s the unwritten rule, if you can sneak it by for a week then it’s in.  Cept she caught me measuring for it and asked what it was for and I told the truth before I caught myself.  She immediately pointed out how bad an idea this was.  I countered with some explanations and printed documentation which included many graphs and mathematical formulas explaining how negative pressure works.

My wife, like many, many women doesn’t care much for math.  It’s not that she can’t do it or is genetically predisposed to hate it, it’s simply that if you put something in front of her that has more than three mathematical operations in it she will give in and accept your answer.  She looked at the paper, then at me.  Again at the paper, again at me.  Knowing I had won I may have let slip the smallest smile and that cost me this battle.

My wife looked at me and said “Looks like you have done all the research.  As long as you can fix it if there is an issue go ahead.  And gave me the look.

The novice may think I won but a battle hardened general will know what she was really saying was.  “You can be a dick if you like and even knowing I have asthma and CAN DIE from your bullshit hobby you can vent air from the house but I’m going to complain about it.  I’m going to complain when you smoke, I’m going to complain when you don’t smoke.  I’m going to call you at work when you are in important meetings, demand you take the call, and complain it smells of smoke even tho neither of us is home.  I’m going to complain tomorrow and they have not even cut the hole yet.  And then you won’t be able to smoke till you fix it.  And since I own the household budget you won’t see any free money for this until about two thousand and hell froze the fuck over.  So do the right thing here buddy because on top of not being able to smoke do you really want to find out how boring Internet porn can become?”

Now right now somebody is saying “that’s not how it is in my house, I run shit.” I call BULL and SHIT right now. I can go pretty much anywhere any time I want. I have my own office and theater and smoking room soon. I’m smart enough to know how good I got it but I damn sure ain’t stupid enough to believe its cause I’m the fucking man. If Daddy unhappy people apologize, if Momma unhappy people fucking hide.

She also overheard the HVAC cum bubble say fresh air means air from the outside of the house and she latched on to that shit like it was the armoire from the Titanic. 

So yeah I moved exhaust to where the red x is on the top right and intake where the red X is on the bottom right.  Since the orange area is where my desk and work table go and the violet area is where seating ends up I wanted the exhaust fan closest to where the smoking takes place.  And since the air is unconditioned on intake which means 12 degrees in the winter and 98 degrees in the summer I wanted it as far as I could get it from where I and company would be.  And with two quiet 200 cfm models I could completely put them on a timer and theoretically cycle all the air in the room in less than 30 minutes.  I say theoretically because the system doesn’t work quite like that but it’s close.  Ejecting that stale air makes sure the room doesn’t smell of cigars. For the most part.  Right now this looks like my fan choice:

2 Responses to ““The Dark Side” by Addiction – Decisions, Decorations and Dilemmas Part II”

  1. Troysephus said

    Holy shit. I made it about halfway thru the Good Times rant, which is 50% longer than I made it through your last Good Times rant. I can’t wait for your Diffrent Strokes analysis cuz that setup was all kindsa fucked up. FWIW- Wilona was selling speed and other various drugs at the boutique (who the hell in the projects is shopping at a boutique anyway?) She got her supply from Councilman Alderman. And what was Florida doing all day long you ask? She was doing Bookman while James was at work. They kept the affair going even after James died (until she met Carl).

    • Bryan said

      Glad you enjoyed it. I actually Wylonna worked for Lenny, someone had to help him score that shit, but that’s a topic for another day.

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