Buh Bye: Baseballs and Kitchen Guy

I've decided that my ability to blog is directly related to David Otiz's ability to crush the ball. For all you non Boston types, David Oriz is Big Papi. You know. On the Red Sox. He was crushing it and then he. Just. Stopped. But he just hit another homer. So I'm blogging.

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We're planning to gut and remodel our kitchen this summer. We refinanced the house to free up some cash, and we're in the process of interviewing contractors. We're looking for someone honest and fair, someone with experience, someone who likes dogs and doesn't mind feeding them and letting them out and embracing the stray dog hairs that end up in his mouth (it's freaking everywhere in this house). He should be good with the big picture as well as the details. He should be able to pick out all the stuff for us, faucets and paint colors and all, so that we have to do pretty much nothing but enjoy the finished product. We'd like someone who can see as clearly as we can that our kids are lovely and gifted and sweet and charming. This someone should have done a minimum of 45 kitchens in the past year or two, economic downturn aside, and should most certainly be dedicated to timeliness, cleanliness, thriftiness, artiness, and funk. This person should also probably look hot in his tool belt (that part is really my idea, not Peter's so much) and he should be extremely articulate. He should hire subs who are just like him, too. And they should all listen to cool music while they work. But we'd like it if they were only here for a week or two (tops!) so as not to overstay their welcome in our house.

The first guy we interviewed was decent (he had the "hot" thing down pretty well) but he seemed to think we were a little demanding or something. I could feel it in his vibe. I think he may have rolled his eyes just the littlest bit too, and I really feel like that's no way at ALL to try to impress your future employer. I mean, hello? We have cash in our hands, buddy! From the refinance! But...yeah. That guy thought maybe we hadn't done enough leg work or something. So we said thanks but no thanks to that guy. Buh Bye, hottie.