I Hate Working On Cars; More Weird Ipod Finds

I made the batmobile run correctly this morning. Cars suck to work on because there's lots of fragile parts to break. I busted a square (!!) plastic hose that was brittle--why don't they just use cheap, round, rubber hoses?!? That's what I replaced it with. The little bastard runs awesome now, and it only took three hours. Note to self--it helps to remove the little cardboard piece from the spark plug before attempting to thread it--I was horrified that I had cross-threaded the head--fortunately, I'm just a total dumb-ass.

I'm so done with foreign-made conveyances. I require a big, old, domestic pickup truck, I think. There's a late 50s GMC stepside that I've been eyeing on my Monday route. It's really pretty--a recent restore with silver paint. I need to take a photo of that one.

Now that I'm back home (went to the shop to use the tools), I'm attempting to organize stuff, including music files, papers, and the cable entropy. I have lots and lots of duplicate music files. I get distracted when I hear tunes, which makes it so much worse to do housekeeping with a soundtrack. I had to learn this one because I love the "upside-down-power-chord" bass parts. It's one of those "psychedelic" deals with fourths--the late sixties were full of this interval in "rock" bass lines. I use it for its "hypnotic" quality as much as I can get away with (it's easy to thump away a lot of notes, but requires super legato and clean muting for the best effect).

Curiously, though, Zager and Evans are from fuckin' Nebraska. You learn something every day, right? This one's for Fuckin' Ronny:


2525 is total fantasy since we're all doomed in 2012. It's a cool pop song, though.

I'm An Idiot.

I spent half an hour in the liquor store parking lot looking for the batmobile. Lucky for me, it wasn't that crowded, and I could just meander up and down the aisles until I found her. I had scored a close spot, and not in an aisle (near the building), so I just looked like an idiot.

They totally had Turn Left Energy Drink on sale for $.69! I had heard about this about a year ago--it was supposed to be marketed at NASCAR 'necks. It claims to be "liquid horsepower." The can queries, "How Fast Do You Want To Go?"

In its raw form, it's pretty ghastly, like most beverages in this category.

My dudes, they should've marketed this at alcoholic drivers. A fifty-percent vodka and fifty-percent Turn Left Energy Drink beverage (essentially a Dr. Vodka with Turn Left Energy Drink) is some certainly potent shit.

I'm going to have another pint of this and see if it actually enhances my driving ability. I'll bet I can outrun Statey on the wrong side of I-25. If only the batmobile were running better, right?

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.

"At Least It's Not An Audi"

The "you require brakes, dude" light came on in the batmobile mark ii over the weekend. I'm still astonished by the nonsense that this car talks to me about (shit, dogg, it's 39 degrees! i'd love to turn that alarm off). Apparently there's a switch up there somewhere monitoring the thickness on the front pads. It's not something that I wanted to do myself (so much free time in the next week), so I took her down to a shop behind the nude place in Boulder. They've been my customers for years. Dude was actually cool, and seems to know wtf is with these cars. The shop was hoppin' and relatively clean besides a bunch of audis and porsches (good), but I had to make an appointment (bad). Dude actually spent some time talking about brakes with me (hilarious to me).