The smile of a made for television repair manual
Sean and I thought we’d try to put new shoes on the rear drums. It’s a dually. First tool we used was a chainsaw to block up enough boards to keep the truck off the ground. Then using two bottle jacks we raised it and pulled the tires.
“I seen that in a junkyard,” I said of the wet rusty sealed steel drum we had exposed.
“I have no idea how to do this,” Sean admitted. He was my only hope.
“Should we look on the Internet?” I asked.
He turned the only visible bolt and a thick dirty fluid was oozing under pressure from the threads like it was wounded.
“Maybe we should,” he said.
Which broke our spirit. That information superhighway just left nothing to the imagination. Color pictures. An embedded video. Tools I didn’t own and had never seen. Perhaps if we’d just unscrewed everything and were left with no choice but to put it back together we could have prevailed, but the knowledge Google revealed crippled us.
Mr. Ravioli sent me that text months ago, and I illustrated it immediately and it’s been waiting for this moment when all the technology at my fingertips isn’t corrupted, in need of updates or drivers, or somehow non operational. Hooray.
I have finally figured out how to upload images, it involved figuring out how to update my wordpress to a new version. I also got a scanner finally. Now all I need is a serial number for the cracked version of photoshop cs2 I have and I’ll be back to full on blogging again. Thanks for sticking it out with me through a bunch of crappy iphone photos. (which for two days I couldn’t upload either, until I realized they now go to my spam folder. Corrected that too.) Sorry for the tech lesson, but I feel bad for not getting something out daily.
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Doug had some help getting his hair straightened.
Totally amazing.
photo posted from my iPhone
A pile of garbage like this used to excite me. Today I was tired of it. Nothing ever makes me happy for long. By October I’ll be doing something new. That’s a self fulfilling prophecy, I hope.
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Sometimes I’m caught staring at someone in the crosswalk, but do they know I’m just trying to figure out if they’re male or female?
photo posted from my iPhone
never a good sign to see a full fly strip in the bathroom
photo posted from my iPhone
Went to drop off my computer for repair and backed into a BMW. I have insurance. But I need a softer car.
I’d like some health care. At the grocery store the checker always asks,”Do you want help out with that?” I say no thanks. I’m not greedy. I try to take care of myself. The grocery store understands not all of us can. It would be nice to know the same government that funds NASA also cares about it’s citizens enough to provide some health services.
Why are people freaking out about socialized medicine? Aren’t they glad the government is giving them money for their old cars? What if they bought up any old people laying around your houses that were guzzling up medical costs? Or at least gave you some money? Oh wait, we already have socialized medicine for the elderly. It’s the working taxpayer who doesn’t trust the government – unless they are saying Iraq attacked the World Trade Center – who doesn’t want the governments help. When did people start loving their insurance companies more than their country?
photo posted from my iPhone
This old bone was laying in an intersection with no dog in sight. Then I went grocery shopping.
As we began to make love in earnest, after the hands and the mouth have done their work, I imagined as I entered inside her I was entering a small home, one bedroom, pink carpeting, white curtains, festively colored pottery on display atop low modern coffee tables.
As I put my weight down on top of her so our nude bodies fed on the heat of the other’s I imaged my penis was a clumsy and startled animal, feral at best, inside this spotless little feminine apartment. Just a bee knocking against the windowpane, a cat in a paper bag, a bull in a china shop.
photo posted from my iPhone
i’m learning how to tuck my shirt in, and store a change of underwear in my underwear!
photo posted from my iPhone
The instructions won’t mention ironing your carpet at home.
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photo posted from my iPhone
Wondering what I mean about the lie? This is the actual piece of furniture used in the photo you see in the high gloss catalog that comes to your door. Using camera angles and lighting and expensive computer software, you end up feeling a sense of desire to own this very object.
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Wound up in a Dockers brand meeting last week while eating box lunch from Specialties at the installation site. Took some notes. They were gearing up for a cross functional walkthrough and then splitting up into regional work sessions. Wrapping it up with hindsight meetings to assess which stretch goals were met and which were not, and why.