Priceless

My pal Matt (hereafter known as Fatty) came to visit this weekend to redline our 90% set of Construction Documents for the residence we are designing in Knoxville. For anyone who knows Fatty, you already have vivid images of a flatulent, lumbering, black U-boat leather clad goon playing air guitar amid a flurry of "EEEEP!!!"s. For those who don't, you are truly missing out. I suggest you look him up. If he's not tearing down the road in his silly souped up Porsche 914, he's probably pulled over, getting a ticket for doing 90 in a 25, or he might be terrifying first year architecture students with his piercing gaze and penchant for dystopia. At any rate, you should have seen his face upon first entering the Hobbit Hole.

We rolled up to the Marrowstone Island hippy commune, and stopped by Liz and Kayla's house to borrow a piece of foam for Fattstuff to sleep on, as well as some blankets to swaddle his ample tub. This should have been the first tip as to what he was getting into.

We parked, and strolled past the usual detritus: a 30' converted lifeboat (with a half finished deckhouse), a rusty "Little Cod" marine woodstove, chicken feed sacks full of offcuts, rigging, line, inflatable dinghies, et cetera. We rolled up to the Hole. I opened the door, and we stepped into the kitchen.

"Wow. This is pretty cozy."
"Yeah, here's the stove, mini fridge, real live running cold water. Here's the rest of the place..."

"Woooow. Ohhhh wooooow...holy shit. This is IT? You said it was small, but i thought...Oh wow. EEEEEEEEP."

Fatty's eyes looked like stove pipes when he stepped into the back 40 and surveyed the remainder of my domain, all 12' of it. At this point, having just gotten home from school, it was also about 40 degrees inside.

"So, what do you do when the fire runs out in the middle of the night?"
"Don't worry. You'll see."
"EEP!!! Eeeeeeeeeep."

Fatty was a good sport, and in the end, conceded that with running water, heat (albeit an interactive approach to heating), and the interweb, it was a pretty low maintenance yet civilized existence in the Great White North. We got our drawings done, and I made my Klondike Cakes for breakfast, securing my position as World's Greatest Yukon Flapjack Maker Ever.

I'm fairly certain that Fats will retaliate to this post by uploading the pictures he took of me laughing my ass off in my long underwear on facebook. I was changing for bed, and he noted that i looked like a 'tripartite polyester sausage'. It was good that i had just taken a leak, cause I'm sure I'd have wet myself.

Be sure to troll FB for a hot pic of me in my skivvies.
EEEEEEp.