Zimmer and Kohl Contractors are the DEVIL!!!!!!

I don't normally use this blog for personal problems but one of the main reasons I haven't posted lately is we've been dealing with a company to repair our basement. It hasn't gone well.

Before I begin this rant, let's imagine if Satan ran a company.

Here would be their operation guidelines:
1. Be late for appointments OR don't show up at all.
2. Make them move all their furniture the night before a job, then don't show up for the job and then laugh at them.
3. Swear at customers, get angry with them and call them liars.
4. Make sure your tactics put a strain on marriages.
5. Lie. Lie often. Lie well. Lie until you're out of lies.
666. Gouge them on prices. Quote them something really low so they take the bait, the screw them over at the last minute so they have no choice but to pay you more money.

These are just a few of the things Satan would do with a company. Oh wait he did!

He has risen from the depths of Hell to take the reigns of Zimmer and Kohl Contracting!

His anger for being locked in such a deep dark pit for all these years is now flowing through the streets of Louisville to innocent people who just want work done on their house.

Here's my story with these cretins. These deeply evil, cash hungry wicked beasts.

In April, our basement flooded. So my wife and I went through the process of getting bids from several companies. One of those companies was Zimmer & Kohl Contracting aka Satan's Construction Crew. I wish we would have never, never, never done this.

Their bid was the lowest of the five we received. When we asked why they came in lower than the other bids, we were told it was because they worked in volume and that's how they could keep the prices low.

This sounded legit to my wife and I, but just in case we put back some extra money to cover any additions to the estimate that might occur after the job was completed. They took our check and vanished like a ghost.

So after fighting for over two weeks to get on the schedule and getting anybody to call us back, we finally got on the calendar for May 24th. When May 24th arrived, we were told they needed to come back to our house to measure. Which was odd because they had been to our house 3 times already and had measured twice. Is Hell on the metric system? We thought that must be why they kept coming back to measure. It's a difficult system to master.



At this point I'd taken off 3 days worth of work for them. They'd missed two appointments now.

So we called and they said they would send out their contractor "Bin". Great, some progress—or at least that's what the devil would make you think. (P.S. This Bin fellow is apparently a wanted criminal. NICE TO KNOW NOW!)

When he did arrive at my house, he was visibly angry. He stormed into my house, brushed past my wife and in a tone that can only be described as furious Jack Nicholson from A Few Good Men, began berating me. "So you have the tile? Where are the supplies? We're not supplying that! No! No! No! You are wrong!"

My response was no, because the estimate included the tile. He told me "no you're wrong." I said, "No, I'm not." At this point I produced the estimate, which LINE 1 of the estimate said they, Zimmer and Kohl, would provide and install all materials.

He then told me there was no way he could do the job for the price on the estimate. I asked how could he suddenly could come to this conclusion when he'd had the estimate for 5 weeks. He said, the person who did the estimate didn't know what they were doing and they should be fired. (Coincidentally, the guy who did the estimate was the nicest person we dealt with and I honestly feel bad for him.)

Bin then filled out a check for the deposit we had given Zimmer & Kohl Contracting, threw it at my wife and I, slammed the door, saying, "I took time out of my schedule to come out here, I don't need this!"


This outburst was also followed by some mumbled swearing.

So after calming down, I called the person who had done our estimate. He apologized and worked with Zimmer and Kohl to come up with a new price. He produced one for about $3000 more than the original price. Which my wife and I agreed too, this was our own fault for doing this. But like I said earlier, we had put aside money in case of overages, and this was honestly about what we thought they would be based on the other estimates we had received.

So we scheduled a date with the guise that we wouldn't have to deal with Bin again after his outrageous behavior. Who walks into somebody else's home and disrespects them like this? They agreed and were supposed to come out to our house so we could sign the new estimate on May 28th.

I then receive a call from them on the 28th telling me that the front office had kicked back the 2nd estimate and had assigned a new dollar figure to it. This estimate was for $10,000 above the initial estimate. How the hell do we go to MORE than double the job in two days?

Is the Zimmer and Kohl on the Canadian Monetary system?

At this point I had to walk away.

Now, I sit in my house which has all the furniture that was in the basement crammed into our living room, hallway, extra bedroom and sun room. Our house is maze because we moved everything out of our basement because they were supposed to be here to do the work. So instead of having a completed basement, I have an empty hole and a garage full of old carpet that they were supposed to hall away.

Of all the horror stories you hear about slimy, underhanded, greedy contractors and construction companies, Zimmer and Kohl fit them to a "T". Seriously, they are a walking cliché. They did nothing right in this entire process. And here I sit with a house that I have to navigate with  map and hatchet and a garage full of moldy carpet.

Stay away from Zimmer & Kohl Contracting. I'm not sure how a company that's been in business for over 40 years can survive with rude, pompous employees like Bin.

Tell your friends fellow readers. These guys are just evil. I could have had my basement repaired 3 times in the amount of time it has taken for this situation to get remedied.

Enough.

RIP Nate Dogg

RIP Nate Dogg. (I have no idea Herbie Miakle is.)

Okay, I'm a little late to the Nate Dogg funeral. Sorry. But after prolonged mourning, I can now pour a little of my 40 oz. out on the curb and pay tribute to one of the key members of the G-Funk Era.

In 1992, like almost every other white male suburbanite between the ages of 13 and 24, I bought a copy of The Chronic. Having parents that were VERY conservative meant this album—that dropped more swears than a drunken George Carlin—got the Anne Frank treatment. I hid this thing in ceiling tiles, mattresses and at one point duct taped it to the back of a toilet tank in an Italian restaurant.

But it was worth it.

Engrossed in the word play, the production and the ability to sound unlike every other rap album previously released is what kept Dr. Dre's album in my CD Walkman™for months. You've got the slow whine of creaky keyboards on nearly every track, long forgotten Parliment samples and an amazing mix of real instruments—which many people don't realize or take for granted. (There's more flute on this record than a Jethro Tull greatest hits collection, go back and listen to it.) Weaving all this together before the use of Pro Tools must have been incredibly arduous.

This album not only introduced us to this unique sound, that would later go on to define a huge transition in rap, it also introduced most of America to Nate Dogg, Snoop Dogg and the D.O.C. Before this record Snoop was selling coke and drifting back and forth between prison and gang life. Think about it, can you imagine a world without Snoop Dogg today? He's in Pepsi commercials, he's appeared in over 40 TV shows and movies, and has made 11 records in the 19 years. Not bad for somebody who was once on trial for murder.

While Dre produced one hell of a record, Snoop Dogg was the undeniable star of this record. He has more memorable lines in one song than Dre has on the rest of the album. This was Dre's biggest chance to cash in ever. How much confidence did it take for him to take a chance on an unknown rapper and member of the Crips? Without this record, Snoop would probably be dead. And without Snoop, Dre would be producing Debbie Gibson records in Bangladesh.

And speaking of big, this was also the biggest tribute to weed we'd ever seen. Sure marijuana got it's fair share of repping in hip-hop before this record but Dr. Dre went over the top with it—the physical CD has an enormous pot leaf on it and, again, the album is called "The Chronic"! Counting the weed references would be like counting gravel at a quarry. This album might as well have come with a case of weed lung and a pack of Zig Zags.

To a 14 year old, this record had everything—dirty lyrics, an unmatched swagger, hatin', a handful of hazy, drunk and drug fueled videos, and a sound that didn't fit into anything else in the rap.

So RIP Nate Dogg and RIP G-Funk Era.

Kentucky Derby Port-o-Potty Reminder

As the decadence and depravity descends on Derby City, let me issue a simple reminder to all who are attending or are thinking of attending this year—Remember to Breathe.

The Kentucky Derby Infield port-o-potty situation is worse than a Vietnam front line trench full of soldiers who've been involved in a month-long stand off. Think about it, where do you think they shit in the middle of a battle? Yeah, it wasn't in woods.

Mix poop, puke, urine with the mud that will be quicksanding patrons this year and you one disgusting soup.

Also you have these jackasses...

Don't get me wrong, I love the Derby and I think Port-o-Potty Racing is funny. It's one of the purest sports left on the planet, (yes, I know all the horses are on roids and not just any roids, horse steroids, the kind Barry Bonds injected). But at 34, my knees, nerves and mind can no longer put up with the puddles of fecal matter and frat boys that invade this annual event.

Which is a shame. Because who doesn't love paying $8 for a Coors Light and watching for an errant breast baring.

Frankly for $8, EVERY Coors Light should come with a nip slip. Strip joints don't even have the nerve to charge $8 for Colorado swamp water.

Anyway, if you're heading out, here are some tips for surviving the Kentucky Derby:

• Buy some boots. Sandals, flip flops and tennis shoes will fall victim to the mud pit that the infield will become. Seriously, you'll be standing in shit (figuratively and literally) for 2/3rds of the day and need to wear something that will defend you from fecal foot.
• Don't look down. Port-o-potties are the Devil's Playground. Chances are at some point, some sick fuck has tried to use a turd as lipstick or as a Sharpie. The less you know about what's going on below your line of sight, the better.
• Drink. Yes, you'll spend more cash than a fleet of executives on a Vegas business meeting, but it's essential to enjoying the fact that you'll only see a real horse once the entire day.
• Smuggling in liquor. It's a must and it's totally possible. I'm not giving away any secrets but let's just say, false bottom coolers are easier to make than you think. Get out the E-xacto.

And remember to breathe. Take one big gasp before you head into the Port-o-Potty and watch out for Port-o-Potty Racers.

Whoop Ass Wayne

Will somebody please call this number?  206-333-4004.

Some fool giving you trouble down at the Pic-N-Save?
Got a bully who keeps stealing your shoes?
Want a clown for your kids birthday party, but not just any clown, the kind of clown who can punch parents in the face when they come to pick up their kids?

Call Whoop Ass Wayne. 206-333-4004.

Seriously, will somebody call this number and tell me what Wayne has to say?

In other news. I'm not the only person to find Whoop Ass's graft.

Check out this...

It's from a blog called Philosophy From a Bathroom Wall.

Pretty good stuff. My favorite is this one...

This is actually sad, as the Marlins are one of the worst run organizations in Major League Baseball. At least hold out for Cubs World Series tickets—I know I would.

Here's the link to so more of PFABWs photos.

It's Derby Week!

Damn rain.

It's rained for 14 out of the last 15 days and it promises to rain more. This is sad because as one employee put it this morning, this is supposed to be the "happiest week of the year."

Come on! It's Derby Week.

This is the week where every Louisvillian should be skipping in the sunshine and drinking Strawberry Crush and amaretto. Where kittens frolic in poppy fields on the backs of unicorns. A week where work should be a place you check into for an eight hour nap. We should all be punching cops in bars at 4 a.m. and running around huffing paint thinner.

Instead this year, we've been met with depression, flooded basements, flooded streets and canceled events. (Most disappointing to me is the Todd Snider show tomorrow night which looks very tentative at this point.)

Even though the sun is supposed to shine bright on My Old Kentucky Home on Saturday, the infield of the Kentucky Derby is going to look like Aunt Mable's Beef Stew—kind of brown, vague and with hints green things here and there.

So how do we fight back against this rainy tyranny?

I say crank it up a notch. Refuse to play "The Game". Prove to the rest of America that the Kentucky Derby Festival, at least the week that remains, is not to be messed with.

Here are a few things I'll be doing to prove that the rain isn't the boss of me and that the Kentucky Derby still means something around here in this soggy bottomed village. Feel free to join me.

• Streak. Why wait to streak the Derby? Streak now. Streak Main Street. Streak the Chow Wagon. Streak the Kentucky Derby Post Position. Streak your office. Ditch those clothes and let your fun bits fly.
• Burn something. What would a party be without the one person who takes things a bit too far and sets fire to a couch or a roll of toilet paper? Get on it.
• Gamble on anything that walks. Morbidly obese dude gonna make the closing elevator doors? Five bucks says no. Number of times that the annoying 23 year old in your office says, "like" in a five minute conversation? I say 15. Number of strippers at PT's Showclub named Crystal (Krystal, Crystil, Cristal, Christeal are also acceptable)? How's eight sound?
• Gallon of Whiskey. Just buy one. See how far you can get into it and proceed to the nearest facility with bouncers. Test your new found strength.
• Fireworks in the office. Face it, it's too wet outside to enjoy all your 4th of July leftovers.
• Seersuckeritup! Run to your nearest thrift shop, elderly relatives closet or vagrant outpost. Buy anything you can find in seer sucker. Put it on, even if it doesn't fit—cut it off, sinch it, belt it—what ever it takes. Now wear it for the next 5 days. Sleep in it too, it looks better wrinkled.
• Pee outdoors. Who needs toilets? The rain will wash it all away.
• Burn something else. Once all the couches and toilet paper have gone up in smoke, find something else such as: paper towels, old wood, your buddy's hair. Nothing keeps a party going like a pyro.
• Challenge somebody. Doesn't matter what it's to. Corn dog eat off, pushing a Cadillac down Main Street (which I did this morning) or throwing stuff out your office window.

Don't give up. Get rowdy and tell the rain to suck it.