Not me, The Thing. Just finished watching John Carpenter's The Thing. The first time it freaked me out was 1985. I watched it again this afternoon, for the second time. I'm freaked out again.
It's been a wild and hairy past few days. I got the feedback from I Talk Too Much and went into quite a funk. I'm surprised how hard it hit me, but then it made me think of an old joke:
A sailor walks into a whorehouse. He picks out a girl and they go upstairs. In her room the whore jumps into bed and gets naked, waiting for the sailor. He undresses, and proudly displays a 4" long errection. The whore goes off into gales of laughter, points, and says "Who do you think you're gonna make happy with THAT thing?"
The sailor looks her dead in the eye and says "Just me, ma'am. Just me."
So here's to making me happy!
It's been a bleak-ass weekend. The temperature has plummeted into the low 30's and seems intent on staying there. The rain poured all Friday night and most of Saturday, and the high today has reached a balmy 34 degrees in the city, which means it's still freezing here. Unstoppable, though, I spent Friday evening and part of Saturday morning putting on my new Micron exhaust system, which has been an event.
If you remember any of my old motorcycle posts, you know that I am not mechanically adept. I can get by, but that's about it. Well, the removal of the old Honda exhaust off my Interceptor and the installation of the new Micron system was quite frankly a walk in the park. I had read a comparison when I got the cans, trying to see what I was up against, and the guys who reviewed the Micron assembly seemed to think that they were the most offensive things going, lacked clear instructions, took at least two men to install, and were not worth the exorbitant price. You'll have to forward thru a few pages to the Micron pipes, but the whole thing is an exercise in how not to write a review.
They were wrong. Not only were my cans and connector pipe delivered in professional, strong boxes but the assembly went exactly as the instructions described. Painfully easy is the term I would use, especially when you consider I did the work in three layers of shirts, two layers of pants, gloves and a hood just to keep warm. And the first half of the install was done in the garage at night with only a trouble-light to light the way. I won't go into the particulars of it all, at least not right now, but suffice to say I have never had an easier time, mechanically.
I started it, she sounded DIVINE, just like the sound bite you can get off the comparison sight's link. At least it sounded divine once. See, it's now so cold that my four-year old battery had gasped it's last after I started it the first time. When I went to start it again to show the wife, it wouldn't. It consistently refused to start, which made me consistently curse and scream.
So, I went to the local bike shop to get a battery. They were closed. Had to go to the Offensive Bike Shop because they were still open. Come to find out I had to order a battery (five working days shipping) because my Interceptor battery is SPECIAL. It's a sealed battery which is, I'm told, filled with some sort of gel instead of water. Which makes it expensive. Chokingly so. Try $137.
So now I get to wait a week before I can RIDE with these spanking new state-of-the-badass-art pipes on lovely Miranda. Which works out well, I guess, since the temps seem to be refusing to rise too much, and the forecast is calling for rain for the next few days at least.
Anyway, in a sort of karmic way I guess I had it coming. If I had knocked the bike off it's center stand or perhaps put a wrench through the windshield then the battery would have just so happened to be in the right place to hit a stray cosmic bolt which miraculously rejuvenated it until I happened to be far from home without a phone, or until the day I decided it was time to run from one of Louisiana's Finest on the interstate.
That's how things work in the Land Of Irrelephant. That's also why, having promised a brand-new blog skin I am still wearing the same old blue jumpsuit. I feel like a stripper who can't find his buttons. But, I shall persevere. I write this blog because it makes me happy to do so, and I'm not going to let a little negative feedback bring me down. Besides, I've got about five of you who read all the time, so I can't be all THAT bad, right?
And as a close, if you like Neil Gaiman or Dave McKean you NEED to buy Mirrormask, now out on DVD. It's utterly beautiful.