PlazaJen: Passion Knit

So, yesterday, the infernal construction of the Bob Mahal was going on, and they decided to blast. I loved the idea of blasting, because we weren't supposed to hear anything & it was supposed to be 800 times better than this goddamn HO-RAM that goes DuDuDuDuDuDuDuDuDu nonstop throughout the day. As Kristin said, it's like being in a washing machine.

Well, something went wrong with the blasting. First of all, I did not even understand what was happening, and thought some large piece of moving equipment had HIT our building, and I kept staring at the walls waiting to see if they were going to crumble around me or not. Everything SHOOK. And the noise. An explosion! People with offices on the south side of our building had rocks hit their windows. I don't think I'm overstating the general feeling when I say everyone was "freaked the fuck out". An employee of the restaurant around the corner was outside when it happened, and she was hit in the face by a rock. (She was ok, overall. Cut, bleeding, but minor injuries. Apparently she was swearing a blue streak at well-meaning people who kept asking her name. "I'm not telling you my name. Get the fuck away from me!") So, now we're back to the HO-RAM. We're going to have 8 of them by the end of summer. I'm sure it's spelled HoeRam, but fuck that, it's a HO and I hate it. I'd rather try the blasting again (the right way, not the "Beruit Way") but that's not going to happen, because people are going to sue, blah blah blah. I'm about ready to lodge an emotional stress complaint for the HO RAM though.

Perhaps the owner of this construction project should give us complimentary, weekly massages until the HO stops Ho-ing? I think that sounds splendid.