It was cold and around where I live got dumped on with copious amounts of the white stuff. So, being bored, I went over to my good friend Jason's house to help him tear down his newest truck project, a 1971 Chevy C20. We took the bed and the cab off last Saturday, and today we removed the engine and transmission, the front suspension with the cross member, and the rear suspension and axle. The original truck was a long bed. Jason likes short bed low riders and had a short frame ready to go. All we had to do was get the stuff off of the old one and get it ready to go on the shorty.
Here's some more video:
I smashed my finger while removing the front suspension. Smashing a finger is never fun. Smashing a finger when it is 18 degrees F is a good way to wake the neighborhood with swearing and girly screams.
This one is for NYD, who asked about my guitar project that I started at the end of the summer. Well, I put that aside for awhile, but I decided that while I was off work for the holidays that it would be a good time to finish it. You can see that I've shielded the body cavities with copper foil to help reduce noise and radio interference. The neck has been taped to protect the maple's lacquer while I level, dress, and polish the frets. Not pictured is the bone nut that I have put in and will be slotting for the strings. The tuners are giving me problems. I had to drill very small pilot holes for the mounting screws in the hard rock maple. I broke off a drill bit in the wood and a couple of screws. So, it is going to be a major pain in the ass to extract those without collateral damage. I must say that you have to love doing this kind of stuff in order for it to be worth it. If you are just interested in saving money, this is not the way to go. But like I said before, this will be done exactly how I wanted and by me.
Going back to shaping and slotting the nut on this guitar, bone really stinks. I mean, when you start filing and sanding bone it gives off this ungodly odor. It smells like barber hair that caught on fire inside a defiled and dried out gym sock. Well, maybe not that bad, but hell.
I like eggs. I need eggs. That is why I put up with so much shit.
Um, the tale of two cities never mentioned their village idiots that buggered each other just to spite the mayors.
Jean Claude Van Damme is a good movie. Check it out if you can. The theater that I went to to see this has its own resident cat that wanders around everywhere. It's just about the coolest damn cat alive.
The new Metallica album is not too loud, you pussies.
Having the theater's cat walk between your legs while you are using the urinal is an odd experience. I think it likes me. I promise that I did not drip on it.
Argento, Bava, and Fulci are just a few of my favorite things.
Have you ever thought to yourself that maybe one of your friends may be imaginary because they are never around when your other friends or family are around? I still need them, even if they are imaginary.
This is a short segment from David Lynch's film Wild At Heart.
The concert went well. I came straight from work to the concert. It was snowing real bad all day long and I was wet and cold. I had time to set up my gear but didn't have any time to warm up or rehearse. My rig sounded superb. I used my Strat and Li'l Bastard, the amp I built. The first number was a bit rough, but we looked good and salvaged it with grace. After that, things went well. Everybody involved did a great job. I wish I had some pictures but I was so focused on getting through the performance that I didn't take pictures. I'll see what I can do. This wasn't a huge deal, but it was fun. Plus, it was good for me to get out on stage and play. I plan on doing more of that.
There's this older woman at work that gave me an expensive gift for Christmas. In the morning I'm getting my teeth laser whitened. It's friggin' sweet!
Oh yeah, wish me luck on my concert tomorrow. I've got my rig all figured out. I just hope there is enough real estate on the stage for my gear. I wish you all could be there. I need somebody to throw panties and bras at me.
I recently purchased an awesome book on cryptozoology. If there was a magazine called "Bigfoot Fancy", I'd be a life long subscriber. In fact, when I see those "Nobody's Born a Bigot" bumper stickers, I always misread them as "Nobody's Born a Bigfoot." You must become Bigfoot through trial and error, I think.
I often wonder if Bruce Lee were alive today would he be doing an infomercial with Elvis about awesomeness? If so, It would involve a 12-step program, kicking ass, and a styling gel.
Just think if real people talked like they did in movies such as Juno. I really liked that movie, but if people around me were talking all smart-ass loud and shit, with an almost too hip to be real preciousness, I'd take up a new hobby called homicide.
I am thinking of getting into the taco cart business. However, I need to come up with a new angle on the industry. I'm thinking of a hybrid of cultures here. The business name: "Taco Schnell". It's Mexican! It's German!! It's Fast!!! I mean, just think of the possibilities of a schnitzel taco topped with spaetzle and gravy or a braut 'n' kraut burrito.
I was at a holiday luncheon that the director of my department at work was putting on. We got to order at this lunch counter where you pick up your own order from them--kind of like having your number called. Well, our whole group had a number. I patiently and politely waited for everyone to get their food before I went to get mine. When I noticed that the only thing left was not what I had ordered, I asked the lady behind the counter if my sandwich would be coming. She told me that one of the gentlemen in my group took off with it. So, I took in this remaining plate of food, went up to the gentleman, in front of our boss, coordinators, and director, and asked him what kind of sandwich he ordered. He said, "I ordered a turkey panini." I then asked him what he was eating. He replied, "Um...". This only made him eat faster. I then persisted, holding up the plate I brought in, "What kind of sandwich is this?" He answered, "Um, that looks like a turkey sandwich. Did you order the same thing that I did?" He was clearly clueless as hell or in total desparation. I then told him, "Nope, this is your sandwich. I ordered the Rueben that you are eating. I was the only one that ordered that kind of sandwich." His response was only this, "Oh, they must have switched them", and he kept on eating. I went over to him and took half of the remaining sandwich and left him half of his sandwich. Shit, he about had a cow fit. Our bosses were really embarrassed by him.
The best part was when the staff were doing nice, informal introductions to the brass, this guy doesn't even say his name, he just starts off, "Um, yeah, I want to get on the training program", which is like asking for a promotion. He doesn't stop putting his foot in his mouth there. He continues talking about himself as, "We like to go hunting, camping, and we go fishing." I about had a anneurism from laughing when the director interjected with, "Uh, who is this "we" that you keep referring to? What is your name?" The guy still didn't say his name and just said, "That's my mom. I'd like more hours, too." He is 44 years old, btw. He is also the same guy that "invented" taping two lengths of pipe together. I don't do the same thing this guy does, in case you think I am also retarded.
I had a dream that I was caught peeing in a sink. The girl that caught me peeing in the sink didn't seem to mind, but I was really self conscious about it because I thought that she might think I was masturbating into the sink instead. She said that she believed me and told me to finish up. That is when I realized that my brain was trying to trick me into peeing my bed and I woke up with about five gallons of urine that needed expelling.
I could go on about the weird pee dreams I've had. I want to hear some of yours, though.
A utility truck was stuck in the mud on a snowy hill. It had a big boom lift on a trailer. The reason I feel so manly was that I got in my truck Clyde, put it in 4wd low/compound gear and pulled this utility truck with it's trailer out of the mud and up the hill.
The thing is that I have no idea why this makes me feel manly. My truck did all the work.
What stupid things make you feel manly? Even the women can feel manly. All chime in!
I've been meaning to post these but never got around to it. I took a hike up a canyon about four miles north of where I live. A service road to a radar station travels above the trail. This road is open to the public. It has many "Dead Man" points and the carnage is usually accessible from the trail. There are a few old wrecks, like a '36 Ford that are cool to check out.
When I hiked this day I bushwhacked my way to one of the more recent wrecks, a white Jeep Cherokee. A lot of the accidents involve kids drinking up the canyon, and then attempting to navigate their way down, they fly off the road and fall 900ft to their gruesome deaths. This particular Jeep was driving down the canyon with three guys and they kept driving straight because they didn't see the sharp turn (I know the details because I know the rescue guys in this town.) When the Jeep went tumbling down it threw one of the passengers out. The other two perished inside the Jeep. The one that got thrown out crawled up the steep canyon wall to the road where he was near death. A passing vehicle spotted the bloodied and broken pulp of a man laying in the dirt, picked him up, and got him down the canyon to medical help. He survived.One of the guys who died had his head crushed and his brains were found all over the rear gate of the Jeep. Yum!
I got to this wreck site on Thanksgiving. There had been some scavenging--catalytic converters and so forth--but most of the vehicle is still there, albeit highly messed up. I thought of crawling inside of it, but as I was about to I was overcome with an extreme case of the heebee geebees. So, I just took a dump by it instead. That's respect. I've got pictures on my brother's camera--of the wreck, not the dump. I'll see if I can get them from him.
I'll include more stories from this canyon in later posts. Most of our town's unnatural deaths occur in this canyon. It's kind of a local pastime around here to find out who's body or bodies are being pulled out of there. We're just a bunch of sick yokels.
I have been talking to my work's community relations director about doing a cable access show. He knows the guy that runs the local cable access station for our county. This is all very much some hair-brained idea of mine, but I want to at least see what is feasible. I'm thinking of a reality show consisting of filming scary people at bus stops set to the classic piece The Blue Danube and other greats. I thought of another fictional "reality" show of an Orwellian nature where we would feature interesting people in our area, consisting of pure bullshit stories and encounters with mythical beasts. The other show idea would be makeup tips for fat guy's backs on how to make them look like female fronts.
I have no idea why I included the Wonder Woman thingy. Just enjoy it. Anyway, I've got a new security system that thinks that I shouldn't be visiting your blogs. It has blocked me from going to your sites and risk getting internet AIDS, or something. Of course, I haven't been on the computer much lately anyway. I have been busy planning a big event that will go down this Thursday. I am not a party/event planner person. How I got into this position is beyond me. Three other people were supposed to be helping me, but two of them are going to be out of town and other's mother passed away on Thanksgiving, with the funeral on the day of the event. All of this crap has convinced me that my dreams of becoming a mysterious, cave dwelling hermit are over and that I will just have to accept the fact that I will have to deal with people the rest of my life.