Out of Commission

The new computer has died.

Apple Computer killed it.

I called technical support this morning to find out if there was anything I could do about an unusually loud fan noise. I spent almost an hour on hold. When I finally spoke to someone they asked me to perform a simple procedure to reset the power source.

Now all I can see are colorful, vertical stripes on my screen and the computer won't boot up.

"It would seem that you have a logic board problem," he said.

"I didn't have a logic board problem before I called you," I replied.

So now I'm waiting for a mailer to come to my home on Tuesday. Then I've got to ship the computer back to Apple. I've been told I probably won't see my computer for at least a week after that.

The timing of this truly sucks. I need the computer to perform a project for work. What's more, I had planned a new movie.

Sisterhood of the Dragon will have to wait.

Read together they sound kind of bad. . .

I think I may have written something similar to this in the past. However, considering the way the girls have behaved this evening I feel that many of these statements were probably completely justifiable.

Things I've actually said to my children:*

Shut your pie hole.
I will clip off the ends of your fingers.
I'm feeding your toys to the cat.
I will break your throat.
The only cure for you both is a good beating.
I will gut you like a fish.
I will flip you like an omelet.
It's only because we love your sister more.
Shut up.
If you don't shut up I will find a very large hole and drop you in it.
Santa saw that and now I'm pretty sure he's not coming.
We are selling you to gypsies.
This is an adoption agency, you guys. One of you get out.
Mommy's hiding at work because she's afraid of you.
Your breath smells like hot death.
Did your pimp dress you?
Eat that or you will starve.
I am never cooking for you again.
This is all the money you had in your piggy bank.
It's just blood.
If you puke in this car you will be in mega trouble.
Go ahead and puke; I don't care.
You will fall, your head will bust open and your brains will spill out all over the carpet.
Do you know what a compound fracture looks like?
I'm seriously considering holding your head under water for a very long time.
Tell my why you deserve these almonds.
You're going to look funny bald.
It's not hot, it's just spicy.
Daddy loves you, just not as much as his motorcycle.

*If you don't believe me ask Deb (she was there for most of them).

On Turning 40

My friend, Dwayne turned 40 on August 17.

He told me what it’s like:

It’s kind of like slitting your wrists and sitting in the bathtub. It doesn’t hurt, but you know you’re dying.

Genius.

Corny

While we're still picking the corn from between our teeth you can check out a few photos from this year's Sweet Corn Festival in the Flickr photostream.

Here's the question for day: Are flip phones for girls?

Nevermind, I don't care what the answer is.

How about this? Is it considered effeminate if a guy likes to wear a thong every now and again because he likes the way it feels when he walks up and down stairs?

Nevermind. I don't want to know the answer to that one either.

We Saw the Sanyo Blimp

Martinis these days don't taste much like martinis. They taste like Kool Aid. This means my wife will drink them.

I like it when she has a martini.

My wife is virtually a teetotaler. This means her blood is like spring water. This means four sips from a martini glass and she begins to giggle. In fact, she even finds me slightly amusing at these times.

For example, last night we were celebrating Deb's birthday at a nice restaurant. She ordered a drink before dinner. I may have been imagining things but half-way through her martini Deb was giving me a few cues. Cues that led me to believe whatever was in her glass was gently swirling around in her head.

This made me smile.

Now, I'm not saying I prefer my wife drunk. But it was such a beautiful evening with such delightful company that mild decadence seemed like the only fitting way to honor the occasion.

She's such a lovely girl. I'm glad the stars came out for her birthday. There's was even a blimp that floated over the isthmus. We could see it from our table.

Deb doesn't know I arranged it.

Yes. I'm lying. But even without a few sips from a martini, a HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEBBIE! blinking in huge letters on the side of blimp that would have been cool.

Maybe next year.

This year she'll have to settle for 10 pt. text on a blog post.

Happy birthday, honey.

The Cat Keeps Pissing Right Next to the Litter Box

I don't really want to devote a blog post to Pig's lack of aim (or act of outright aggression against us). However considering I'm once again wiping up urine this issue is top of mind right now. That's enough for it to make its way into the title.

The cat pee has stolen the wind from my sails. This post is in danger of drifting around aimlessly. Kind of like how this entire weekend has been. For example: Friday night on the way home from a trip into town we took a detour through a cemetery. It was a beautiful evening. Allie was curious about the cemetery, the grounds were well kept and dotted with thousands of colorful floral arrangements - why not?

The girls were in the back seat and we were in front making slightly morbid jokes. Julia chimed in and said, "We gonna find Allie a new school." We laughed a little then Julia added, "Den we gonna put her in da gwound."

We probably shouldn't have laughed as hard as we did. Particularly when I didn't check to see whether or not Allie found Julia's idea amusing.

Oh well.

We went to the State Fair.


There are more photos from the fair in the Flickr photo stream as well as a few back yard camping shots. There's also a new movie in multimedia if you're interested. It's called Slingshot Girls.

One more hour of weekend left to drift around aimlessly.

I'd better drift my ass to bed.

It Never Stops

I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows. I mow it. It grows.

Shh. Listen. I can hear it.

It's growing.

Suzuki GS500 Broken Filter Cover Mounts

Because I turn to the Internet for solutions every time anything goes wrong with the house, the cars, the children, a spatula - I thought I'd post about changing the oil in the Suzuki.

Granted this is a very rudimentary issue that anyone who changes his/her own oil could handle without blinking. However, when it first happened I panicked and thought about going online to find out what to do. I didn't go online but if anyone else has that impulse, this post is for you.

My problem occurred when I over tightened the nuts that secure the oil filter cover on the bike. As you can see above, I snapped the bolt. If you do this, don't worry.

Get a clean pan to capture all of that expensive 10W-40 motorcycle oil you just put in (because if you're like me, you're kind of a rube and you'll pay two more dollars a quart just because it says motorcycle on the container).

Re-remove your filter cover. Get a pair of vise grips and use them to unscrew remaining part of the mount you just snapped in two. For me, this was a slow process, but it will eventually come out.

If you don't have a 24-hr. Genuine Suzuki Parts Store in your area then use an M6-1.0 x 30mm cap screw. I used a hacksaw to remove the top portion of the screw. The actual screw, bolt, or whatever the hell you want to call it is around 40 to 45mm. But if you're like me you have completion issues and will want to make do with what's on hand rather than wait to get the proper parts.

Screw your makeshift mount just far enough to make it even with the other two mounts. Now you can replace your filter cover. Re-introduce the oil you lost while making this repair and you're ready to ride. I suggest you head to the parts store and get a bolt/screw that's the proper length. Swap it out with the hacksawed version on your next oil change.