Bringing the funny.

Okay, well, to get away from a few downers and give you guys something to start off your weekend on a Friday afternoon, I’m gonna share one of my favoritest finds ever on the Internet.

Ladies and Gentlemenseseses, I give you:  The LawDog Files.

I can’t even remember now how I found these a few years ago.  I just remember that I laughed until I ached.  And for some strange reason, I thought of these things in the middle of a lap in the pool yesterday and damn near drowned myself.  Do you know how hard it is to keep swimming when you’re laughing?

Almost all of the stories are on the first page, but do NOT forget to go over to page 2.  If you do, you’ll miss out on the odyssey of Desmond and Opal, which is my personal favorite of the bunch.

Oh, and DON’T read this if you’re in an office and busting a gut will get you in trouble.  You can thank me later.

Bike withdrawal blows.

There are many things to which logic and reason can be applied.  There are problems, however, which logic and reason are inadequate to overcome.  Addictions, compulsive behavior, mental illness.  You can add to that list:  “Bike Withdrawal.”

Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that BW is a combination of the above.  Hmm.

Springtime is hell on a guy like me.  The weather is gorgeous:  not too hot, not too cold.  Everything is coming alive after a long winter, and the smell of flowering plants and trees and even new-cut grass is intoxicating.  It’s the kind of time when one might want to just be out and in amongst everything.  In other words, it’s the exact time when you’d want to be out exploring and enjoying as much of the countryside as possible.  And let me tell you, folks, there’s no comparing a Sunday drive to a Sunday motorcycle ride when it comes to feeling out and in amongst the land.  To feeling like you’re a part of it.  To feel as though, like the land, you’re coming alive.

I was walking back from the pool just a little while ago, feeling exhausted.  Every time I take this walk, I pass by one of the university’s tiny motorcycle parking lots – the one where I used to park my bike when I rode to work.  Every time, I get at the very least a spark of jealousy.  Lately it’s been more than just a little spark.  Not only is there a motorcycle there that’s the same make and model as mine (even the same color, just a different model year), but there’s one of the motorcycles that I lust for:  a yellow Ducati Monster like this one (except yellow with a grey frame).  I’ve loved Monsters for ages.  Simple yet gorgeous.  Mmm.  Walking by it without drooling is difficult.

Today, though, there was an added torment.  A guy rode by me and parked in the lot on a Moto Guzzi Breva.  I’ve never been a huge fan of Guzzis, but this one sounded beautiful and looked like a nice, comfortable naked bike.  Here’s what I thought when he went by:

“What’s that sound?  MOTORCYCLE! *turning around*  Whatzat?  Moto Guzzi, very nice.  Mmm, love the sound of a V-twin, I don’t care how you turn it.  Hey, he’s wearing a nice Vanson jacket, too.  Glad to see some non-squid around here.  I should slow up so I don’t pass him before he’s gone, ask him about the bike, compliment him on the jacket…”

What did I do?

I sped up so I wouldn’t have to talk to him.

Why?

Because I figured I’d come off like a typical slobbering no-bike-havin’ bike-fanatic.  And while I know I’m pathetic, I’d just as soon not have somebody look at me and take pity on me for it.

As it is, I sometimes get downright grumpy about the fact that I don’t have another bike.  I think most folks would, if they had to give up something that they dearly loved and that brought a lot of joy into their life.  But most folks who, say, give up knitting, don’t have to regularly watch dumb fucks fly past with their significant-other-du-jour on the back of their knitting needles, no shirt, no shoes, and no helmet, knitting like an asshole and generally endangering and/or pissing off everyone in a thousand-yard radius and have to think “How come a shithead like that can have knitting needles, and a good guy like me can’t?  How come the best years of my life are spent wishing and waiting?”

Well, some people are more willing to go into stupendous depths of debt than others, I guess.  And some people don’t have terrified relatives and spouses.  But as I said in the beginning, that’s logic.  And logic, generally speaking, has jack and shit to do with riding motorcycles.

It’s enough to drive a poor bike-withdrawal sufferer to drink, I tell ya.

RIP Harvey Korman

That note on the crawl on the morning news just gave me a downer. Boy, will I ever miss Harvey Korman.

What’s the best memory of Harvey? As Count De Money in History of the World, Part I?
“De Monet. DE MO-NAY.”

Sorry. Maybe as Heddy Lamarr in Blazing Saddles?
“That’s HEDLEY.”

Sorry.

Nope. Those are fantastic, and I love him for it, but he surely did his best work on one of my favorite old shows, the Carol Burnett show. And I’ll especially remember him in times like this one: Trying his damnedest (and utterly failing) to NOT crack the hell up at Tim Conway.

Rest in peace, Harvey. Thanks for all the laughs.

That’s country.

I just heard a song on the radio and it had the most prototypical country-music lyric I’ve heard in ages upon ages:

“She’s actin’ single, I’m drinkin’ doubles.”

Damn.  That sums up a big chunk of the whole genre right there.

(Not a bad song as country songs go, actually.  The best I could do was find a sample on Amazon.)

What it’s all about, indeed.

Damn you, Darryl.

I know I keep shilling for Killboy.com over and over on this site, but damn it, I’d quit doing it if they’d quit posting awesome photos.  They’re great, and they deserve every page hit and photo sale they get, so get on over there and check ’em out!

He had his wife mount up behind him with the wide-angle for these shots.  His caption for the second is “This is what it’s all about!”  I couldn’t agree more.  (Click on the images for a larger version.  Hell, go to Killboy.com and buy yerself a copy!  I’m tempted to get one for my office wall, meself.)

DAMN, being without a bike in May is hell.  HELL, I tell you.

(Oh, and Darryl, glad Lori’s getting back to feeling like riding after her get-off.  Hope she’s all healed up!)

Motorcycle Porn

Oh yeah, look at that rear end, all nekkid like that…those curves, those lines…  *drool*

I was looking at my pictures folder and saw this oldie, a shot of my mostest favoritest wet-dream motorcycle of all time, stripped nekkid and photographed.  So I thought…what the heck.

What?  What did you think I was talking about?

Silver Screenings

A meme shamelessly stolen from Sarah, who stole it from someone else in turn. You know how that goes…

1. One movie that made you laugh: Young Frankenstein. Holy crap, do I love that film. I’ve always loved parody, even as a kid, so Mel Brooks films always kill me, but this one is my favorite. So many moments. “Quick, give him the…” “What? 3 syllables…first syllable…sounds like…head!”

2. One movie that made you cry: For the longest time I couldn’t remember one, but last night when I came home my wife and son were watching E.T. and I remembered bawling in the theater as a kid. As an adult, I don’t think a movie has made me cry, but the guy on Omaha Beach crying for his mama in Saving Private Ryan came pretty close. And so did the very end of Titanic, after Rose died and she was reunited with Jack and everyone on the Titanic. Partially because that’s what I’d like to believe an afterlife is like – being young, and back in the place and with the people you loved. And partially it’s because of that damned Irish music. That stuff always gets me for some reason. And I’m not even Irish (as far as I know).

3. One movie you loved when you were a child: Count me as one of the legions of Star Wars kids. In more obscure fare, though, I always liked that 1981 movie Excalibur. But I was always a sucker for Arthurian legend as a young kid.

4. One movie you’ve seen more than once: Faster. Damn, I love that movie. And I love to love that movie. And I love to make people watch it who otherwise couldn’t give a shit. Most finish still not really caring too much, but a few have really gotten into it. (Thanks, honey.)

5. One movie you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it: I used to be embarrassed to admit that I love Big Trouble in Little China, but not anymore. That damned movie rocks and you know it. We really shook the pillars of heaven, huh Wang? No horseshit, Jack.

6. One movie you hated: The Phantom Menace. Way to fuck up a franchise, George.

7. One movie that scared you: Eh, nothing has ever kept me up at night or keeps me from showering in the house alone (my aunt still won’t – good one, Alfred!) – but I have to say that The Blair Witch Project was well-done. I watched it the first time alone in the house with the lights out, and it was pretty spooky. Sadly it doesn’t hold up well to repeat viewings.

8. One movie that bored you: Ghost Rider comes to mind. So does The Matrix Revolutions.

9. One movie that made you happy: Pulp Fiction. I remember when it came out, I didn’t see it at first, then we went back to school after summer break.  My roommate points at me and says, “YOU have to see it.  It’s right down your alley.”  He then points at my then-girlfriend and says, “YOU…not so much.”  Heheheh.  He was right on both counts.

10. One movie that made you miserable: Phenomenon. It was a mediocre movie to begin with, but nothing horrible. The horrible part came in because by about two-thirds in, I had to pee like a Russian racehorse. And it just got worse. The part that pissed me the fuck off is that that movie had at least four points at which it could have ended before it actually ended. And at each point, I was thinking, “THANK GOD, FINALLY I can go take a leak. Just another minute. I can hold it another minute.” Nope. None for me. By the end of it I was positively in agony. To this day every time I think of that movie I get pissed the fuck off.

At least neither myself nor anyone else got pissed on.

11. One movie you weren’t brave enough to see: No such animal. I keep wanting to watch Se7en, which my wife watched once and freaked her out so bad that her decree is that I can only watch it when she’s completely out of the house. Now that makes it inconvenient, but it also makes me curious.

12. One movie character you’ve fallen in love with: Jules Winfield, muthafucka.

13. The last movie you saw: In a theater, Iron Man. (Just like Sarah! Hah!) At home, the last two thirds of My Super Ex-Girlfriend. I probably enjoyed it more than it warranted, but at the time it made me chuckle. But I think Anna Faris in particular is fantastic in comedies. Holy CRAP if you haven’t seen her in Just Friends you should go out and rent it right away.

14. The next movie you hope to see: Meh. Nothing I see coming soon looks all that interesting to me. If I had to pick, I guess I’d say The Dark Knight even though that in conjunction with Iron Man makes me look even more comic-book-geek than I actually am.

So…anything I should see?

The Return of the Sheepdog

I finally got my ass back into the pool again after an inexcusable layoff.

As suspected, they’d changed the lane layout from across the pool (25m) to the length of the pool (50m).  And also as I suspected, after the long layoff, it totally kicked my ass.

Oh, I forced myself to get in 600m, but make no mistakes, the sheepdog was back in the house.

And as a final insult, one might guess from my experience that the university was saving money by going without hot water in the showers.  Yoicks.  I don’t know anybody that likes cold showers, but more than that, I also don’t know any men that want to get dressed in a locker room after a cold swim AND a cold shower.

How I Spent My Memorial Day Weekend

Or, as I like to call it, “Old Pipe, New Pipe, Brown Pipe, Blue Pipe.”

My house was built in 1950. There are lots of annoyances because of this. Plaster instead of drywall, 2-prong outlets that needed to be replaced and properly grounded, blah blah blah. But let me tell you, so far nothing has pissed us off as much as the plumbing. There has been one other plumbing adventure in this house that consumed an entire weekend and multiple trips to multiple hardware stores, but in terms of sheer pain in the ass, that one was a 6. This one was a 9.

I didn’t know this because I’ve never lived in or worked on a house this old, but apparently back before ABS pipes were introduced around 1970, it was standard at least in this part of the country for houses to be fitted with terra cotta sewer lines in two or three foot sections. Yeah, you heard me right. Terra cotta. Like your mom’s flower pots. What could possibly go wrong with that?

Last year, we lost our toilets. It was somewhat sudden, actually. One day everything was working fine, the next day flushing the toilet made a funny bubbling noise in the bathtub, and the day after that, ker-BLOCK. Nothing.

We called in a plumber who dug in and installed a cleanout plug (which we should have already had, but didn’t – joy) and then ran his rooter through. He managed to unclog the line, but his theory was that a tree root somewhere had invaded the terra cotta pipes. He suspected that he cleared a small block but that the original problem remained. In a year or two we might have trouble again. Boy, he was smart.

We started noticing the bubbling again about two weeks ago and called the plumber in. He dug around a bit and ran his rooter, but it didn’t correct the problem. He said he could start digging around to find the problem, but it would be $95 per hour to do so. We decided that there was a strong likelihood that the plumber was right and that the problem was underneath the deck. I was off on Thursday to go to my son’s end-of-school party, so we decided that I’d start tackling the problem that afternoon. On Tuesday evening or Wednesday morning (I forget), the toilets completely blocked again, turning the situation from an annoyance into an emergency again. Oh, joy.

Thursday morning I ran down to Wal-Mart before the party and bought a couple of shovels. On the way back, we stopped by Home Depot where I grabbed a wrecking bar and a sledgehammer. We got home about 1:30, I changed clothes, and got to work on it at about 2.

Step one was to rip up the deck near where the problem might be. Right? So I picked one nearby 5/4″x6″ decking board and started to pull it up. I thought it would be nice to have the option to reuse the decking boards, even if we probably wouldn’t, so I tried to be careful. No dice. It started to split at about the third joist, and continued to split all the way to the house. The second board split as well. At that point my wife said “These things aren’t going to survive anyway. You may as well cut them. I disagreed, and worked on it for a bit longer before deciding, screw it, she’s right, and hauling out the old Sawzall and starting to hack the bastards at every joist.

At first I had my wife pulling the nails out of the boards, but it rapidly became clear that that was a huge waste of effort. I asked her to just start hauling them out behind the garage, to tell the kids not to play near them, and I’d pull or cut them out later on.

About 4 or so we decided we’d pulled enough of the decking boards to start digging. We knew about where the pipe came out of the house, and we knew where the cleanout pipe ran, so we figured we could guess about where the old pipe made a 90-degree turn. So I started digging where we knew the line to the master bathroom (a fairly recent addition) ran, and my wife started prospecting for the elbow.

Under normal circumstances, we would have been right and could have found the elbow – but we weren’t right. After that became clear, I just told my wife to save her energy and I’d just follow the master bathroom line so we’d know where the bastard went.

Conveniently, the concrete patio under the deck had already been broken to lay the master bathroom line, so I didn’t have to break concrete there. So clearly they’d broken the patio, built the master bathroom, and then later added the deck. They also apparently backfilled the trench with storebought topsoil or something, because it was very loose and made for easy digging. It didn’t take too long for me to find the PVC pipe to the master bathroom.

What you’ll notice in the picture below are a few other, more important things. Not the hot and cold water lines (dark grey parallel lines in the center of the picture) or even the naked electrical supply line in the lower center, just to the left of the joist (nice of them not to put that one in conduit, huh? Luckily I didn’t find it the hard way). Not even that the pipe doesn’t follow a straight line. Nope. The fun part is that there is no T-joint for the master bathroom. There’s a fucking Y. The main sewer line doesn’t run perpendicular to the house. It runs diagonally away from it. You know what that meant? That meant I had to cut up more of my fucking deck to follow the lines. Hoo-boy. This is where we knocked off for the evening, just before 8 on Thursday night.

Just below the Y the white pipe disappears. That’s because they dumped the 4″ PVC line directly into the 6″ terra cotta line and backfilled around it a bit. Woo-hoo! That’s where I stopped to wait for the plumber. I had no experience with terra cotta pipe and had no clue how to deal with it. One way or another, though, one thing was obvious: There was no leak or tree root or anything apparently wrong with the PVC pipe. And unlike the PVC pipe, the concrete patio under the deck but OVER the terra cotta pipe was still whole. That sumbitch had to go. So that’s where I started about 7:30 on Friday morning.

It’s always fun to find out that beneath the 4″ of concrete there’s a nice, even layer of red brick. The dumbasses poured concrete right over a brick patio without removing it. Assholes. Do you know how brick crumbles when sledged from above? Or how much of a pain in the ass it is to dig a hole, looking for something ceramic, when you keep hitting big chunks of brick?

So after a few hours of sledging and hauling huge-ass chunks of concrete out behind the garage (with some help from my wife and even my son) and a few hours of cutting up more decking boards and digging, the plumber showed up around 11. He surmised the situation, predicted that there was a leak a little farther along between the PVC Y and the elbow toward the cleanout. After half an hour of digging, we found out that he was right. There was a golf-ball sized hole in the top of the pipe that was slowly allowing dirt to dribble into the pipe until it formed a solid blockage. Holy hell, I’m only amazed it took that long to block up the pipes completely.

(I’ve spared you a few gross pictures. You can thank me later.)

It was at that point that my wife and I conferred and decided: Fuck this. The deck was already half ripped up. We could replace the pipe from the house to the elbow and have the problem fixed – but we’d be leaving the terra cotta from the elbow to the cleanout, with the possibility of having to come back at some future time, rip up the REST of the deck, and fix that as well. We decided to go ahead and do it all right now. So while the plumber cleared the blockage and dug up the pipe from the house to the elbow, I sawed three feet of decking board all the way across the front end of my deck.

Then I jumped my ass back between the joists and started digging down to the pipe underneath where I’d just cut. It was about then that the plumber paused for a second, looked back and forth for a minute, and said, “Damn. That hole over there sure does look deeper than over here. You got a level?” I fetched my level, and sure enough, the goddamned sewer line was inclined slightly toward the house instead of away from it as it should have been. Ain’t that grand. Yep, good thing we were replacing the whole shebang. At about 3, another plumber showed up and started pulling up the pipe where I’d trenched.

After all the old pipe was pulled up, from the house to the elbow:

From the elbow to the cleanout:

The guys left at about 3:30 to grab something to eat and pick up some parts. They got back about 4:30 and went to work. Putting the new pipe in the trench was the easy part.

They were done before 6, actually. My wife went out for subs while I backfilled the trenches until about 7:30.

On Saturday morning, I went back to Wal-Mart to do some grocery shopping and to buy a small angle grinder, and I then spent about another hour and a half just using the angle grinder to cut the nails out of the ripped-up decking boards so I wouldn’t be so worried about the kids until I could get rid of them.

But that’s it for now. I still have to, oh, rebuild my deck. But that can wait for another week. For now, I can use my own bathroom in my own house, and that’ll have to do.

How was your Memorial Day holiday?

Monday Music

I live!

Well, mostly.  I’m still pretty damned beat, but luckily I have today to recover, and by tomorrow I should be pretty close to normal.  Or what passes for normal for me.

If my wife’s not working on the computer later today, I’ll do my photoblog from this weekend.  If so, I’ll do it tomorrow.  I’d say the odds are about 50/50 either way.  But it’ll get done.  And then I’ll get to everyone’s comments and stuff.

For today, though, I’d like to recognize Memorial Day with a personal favorite of mine.  To all who’ve served, past, present, and future…we don’t always say it, but we appreciate that you guys do a hard, dirty, and sometimes outright horrifying job so the rest of us never have to.  Thanks, folks.  Every one of you, every day.

Alison Krauss and Union Station (Dan Tyminski on vocals), “Bright Sunny South”