Summer Hair Cut.

I thought that I could make it to Memorial Day, but not so much. Sitting on top of that 200-degree Cummins all day just means lots of sweat and not able to think straight. Last year, I was driving the Peterbilt, and I could just leave the right side door open (it's set up for right-side driving, but I'm not so good at driving while standing up). My big International is like driving around a 50,000-pound oven, especially since the cab ventilation dampers have been rendered inoperable. The stop and go means that I can never get any air circulation. Add the physical work, and it just sucks.

Gatorade G2 is way less harsh on my guts than the old-school stuff--and, they have 'grape drink' flavor. Whoot.

There's supposed to be a cold front on Wednesday.

Insecto Loco; Weather; Photos; Super Huge; Goals and Shit

A fucking yellow jacket got up my pants' legs today. Stung me twice on the left leg, and, after I seizured him out of that leg, five times in my right kneecap. It's not as bad as it sounds, actually. I'm apparently not that allergic to the damn things. Manuel said "el insecto es loco," after I crushed its head and it was walking around in circles on the truck floor. He crushed it, and ended the ordeal. Three antihistamines were just the ticket, although I was very stoned at The Weather Center this evening.

It rained tonight! Awesome. Apparently, there was a tornado warning while we were writing another new one. Like we'd even be able to hear the air raid sirens, right?

Jason Claypool has his photos from the DPUMS up. He actually caught me at a good moment--this is as close to rock posing (funny link) as I think that I'll ever get. I was actually making faces at the camera, but timing is everthing in photography, right. I think that he did good.



During practice, I got one of those big bad important "this is urgent, call me back" voicemails. It sounded grave as shit, so I did on the way home. I'm pretty damn excited, but I'll wait to break the news to all but my closest friends. It's sort of one of those gigs that you can't say "no" to without kicking yourself afterwards. Andrew and I are stoked (he called me basically in the same surreal mood). The next couple of months are going to be rock central for yours truly, but this is what I've wanted to do since I was little.

Actually, when I was 11 or 12, I saw the late night television show bands and decided that I wanted to be a professional musician. I told my dad that, and he was actually excited for me. It's probably the only time that someone has encouraged me to follow dreams. I'm still not there, but well on my way to getting enough calls to stay busy--now, if only I could get paid sessions. I'm going to work my ass off to make this one gig completely perfect, though. It shouldn't be too difficult--seriously, I filled in for Ventura that one time with Ghost Buffalo, and those were giant shoes to fill (you know what they say about Phillipinos with big shoes--they have big feet).

Shit, I'm burnt out.

Hot Brown

No, not Tom Ventura's alter-ego:

Not the sandwich with the gross name (it sounds tasty if I could get my mind around that name; I'm certain that Mornay sauce is being withheld, like gravy, unbeknownst to me).

That's what August is like in Colorado. Twenty degrees cooler was welcome for today's drive about Boulder, but I've had about enough of this shit. I loaded 10,000 pounds today. The slight breeze was just enough to make the Styrofoam peanuts dance faster than I could shovel 'em up. At the landfill, it was indeed a dust o rama, again. I accidentally got some lime in my eyes from a construction/demolition load.

For Linda Ruth...

or others that aren't so into the Poison video-o-rama....

My Brother, Dr. E-dogg, was totally into the Poison. Our father trasheed all of those records because of the 'sex on the beach' from the 'open up and say ahh' record. Anyhow....here's the shit from él señor de amor a la roca:

Actually...it's all about 'talk nerdy to me,' LINDA. Think that I require a lime-green B.C. Warlock, really:




Indeed, I require a Warlock (and lots of cocaine);...is that the RATT or Randall sound?!? Priceless '80s video (love the Newman-lookin' father):



Overcasters require more choreography; certainly for the videos. 'F'J.N. certainly has enough banjos to pull off nonsense such as this:



Classic...I require some crazy brunette groupie (I love 12-string anything):

Global Warming Rocks.

1.1 degrees at the landfill.

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Now playing: Warsaw - living in the ice age

Autumn Memories

The air reminds me of one of my fondest memories circa September 1977:

My very very pregnant mother stuck me on the back of her blue Columbia 3-speed (without a helmet). We rode to an open space (a park) at the end of our 'hood (Mom used to drag me around on her bike before she had two of us to haul around--the Columbia was replaced by a 1966 Malibu without seat belts--a bad ass car, really). I played (unsuccessfully, fell on my resilient face) on some sort of playground equipment (a jungle gym). There were children playing all around (annoying). I was thrilled to be hanging out with my mom. She had purchased a kite, a Gayla Baby Bat (dig that image from the package) . We assembled it on a big pink blanket that my mother had brought along. I couldn't run fast enough to make the kite fly. Just when I was about to give up, the wind picked up, and the kite soared high above us. We sat on the blanket. The kite tugged at my little hands.

I was happy. Please forgive the puerile writting style on this one. It's almost like a dream to me.
----------------
Now playing: The Angels of Light - The Man with the Silver Tongue

de rigeur

There was me, that is the JZ, and my droogs, it is indeed quite warm out of doors. My Pink Floyd scuffies and cargo shorts are veshches that are required.

Maggots Are Back!

My twelve-hour day today can only mean one thing: summer is right around the corner!

Good:

1. School's out, so the Starbucks on university hill is easy to drive into;
2. Rockshows;
3. The summer haircut;
4. Motorbikes!
   

Bad:

1. Wondervu is beautiful this time of year, although the recent precipitation means that the "roads" are soft enough to gobble up trucks;
2. Tomorrow, I'm laying tile all day in a steel building--Sweatyman rides again;

Ugly:

The three yards of rotting meat that I had to deal with at four o'clock.

grungey weather, for sure, man

makes me want to don my favorite flannel shirt (lacking buttons), and pretend that I'm living in the 'burbs of one of them cool towns. it never rains in the denber, for real. this is the 'I'm just kidding' version of precipitation.

still, I'm all about stripping and shouting on the porch. i need a cathartic moment after my weak rock yesterday.

hee hee

You've Got To Be Kidding

Snow and yucky?!? It's a good day to go for a new record or something--I'm thinking that a personal coffee consumption record is needed (I'm 30 cups into it at the moment). Photo is I-25 and SH-7.

Unbelievable.

I passed a dog sled on the drive home. I ain't shittin' you. Dude was just cruising down the road with a team of big, strong Malamutes.

Shower update: we have water. It's definitely not hot, but it'll have to do.

I'm So Over This Sub-Zero Stuff

The superdrag (tm) is that the "hot" functionality of the shower no worky this morning.

Snow, Man (I swear that I'm only bored and not actually trasheed)

I've spent most of the week waist-deep in snow, and I'm so over it. At least I haven't spent the night in the car again. Colorado is rarely like this, and why I thought that I was down with it. I'm glad that the officials urged everyone to stay home today--y'all not being on the "roads" really made my life a lot easier.

I scared the hell out of a women when I did a 40,000-pound wheelstand in her driveway earlier in the week. The look on her face was fucking priceless.

"Your front wheels weren't even on the ground!! How can you drive like that?!?"
"Yeah, it happens--it's a little nerve-wracking the first time. This job requires nerves."

<> Like an asshole? We short out the ABS (so the old trucks drive like the new ones, which is a little weird, I suppose) and switch out the rears for better (to the xtreme) ratios. Lots of gears helps you get up to a reasonable highway speed. A mighty 20-speed split-shift is all you really need with one of them Cummins diesels. We convert semis into "light trucks" (Boulder county's definition, not mine). The luddite shop rocks. < /post hoc commentary >

Yesterday, I had to rescue a driver that had lost his steering wheel on a bobsled run (apparently, Chevrolet sucks). On the way up the bobsled run, a stupid 17 year-old put himself in the ditch (the alternative was down a cliff). I attempted constructive driving instruction, so that we could get our three trucks out of the hole. He didn't know what the low gear was in his mom's [sweet] SUV. Kid didn't understand "keep your wheels straight." He was concerned that his VSC light was flashing. He kept saying that the VCR light was flashing, which confused me (I'm easily confused). This is Toyota's "vehicle stability control" anti-rollover thing to prevent dumb asses from rollin' (no drugs involved). These systems work, though--I tested the Ford/Mercury version out near Bonneville at that facility. It's actually a little frustrating when you want to go to the xtreme of four wheelin' in utah mud [yes, mud draggin', kids (one of my secret consulting hobbies, right up there with belly dancing, whores, museums, rock-climbing, and driving the i-5, drinking contests, ufo-watching, freakin' out the townies) the salt flats in March are pretty wet and wild]. I wanted to tell him that if that light comes on, you're driving like an asshole (truly), but since his mother was there, I didn't. Mahoney (coughing up blood on the scene after his surgery--so dramatic, really) harassed the kid for bad shovel technique--"you must not be Irish." I endured that shit for so many years.

The decision was made to not go ahead with our set on New Year's Eve. This is quite a relief since the weather has interfered with rehearsals a couple of times now. There are some issues that we have to address, and we will. I'm glad that I have a great band leader for once. Bad ass Steve went home this morning. Coming soon to a venue near you, and shit....

A couple of days ago, I installed the bad ass steve commemorative bass bridge--I'd forgotten that it's so much louder and ringing. I need to scale back my treble a bit (the clicky shit is quite distracting to me). I have metal-guy action back, though. I'm currently lusting for a 1960s Hagström 8-string that I've located (see bad photo--in gunmetal grey of all colors). It appears to be in great condition and is priced right and collectible, if anything. I'd have to re-learn how to use a pick for it to work, but it might be a cool addition. I think that Shannon was looking for one, so I could unload it for a loss if need be. I've decided to think about resale when I purchase instruments from now on. Amps are disposable, still. Also, lusting for a couple of Vox instruments that I'd never play.

Ain't trying to be clever or funny.

Snowblind (Really Not About Cocaine)

although I could use a mood elevator right about now. Eight and a half hours of commute led to spending the night in a parking lot (see photo), stoned on Ambien in my brown clothes. Today was an attempt to get home. Alas, I couldn't see that waist-high drift in the middle of the road. The batmobile mark ii is up past its headlights in this shit. Luckily, it's only a half mile away from the batcave. Walking home was a real bitch (I'm so outdoorsy that it hurts, and in terrific shape, I might add), though. Nitwit was shivering and Jesus Christ was screaming (We're out of cat fud).

The little fuckers are going to have to starve for the time being.