I’m Cursed to be a Car Guy

Well, if you’re reading this I’m betting that you know where I’m coming from; it’s the basic curse of a tinkerer. Ever notice if you know how something works and can fix it it’s less likely that that something is to work? The car guy corollary to this is the more cars you have the less likely you have one that actually runs and could be driven, at some point you hit a critical mass where you have enough cars that nothing runs and you have to borrow something from a friend if you’re going to get to work.

So my dad has been teaching my 4y/o niece Alexandra:
Dad: “what does your mom drive?”
Alexandra: “Lincoln!”
“what does your dad drive?”
“Audi!”
“what do I drive?”
“Intrepid!”
“what does your grandma drive”
“Zaichik!” (Ukrainian for Rabbit)
“what does your aunt Christina drive?”
“Sunfire!”
“what does your unckie Mark drive?
“JUNK!”

Labor Day Weekend

Well, last weekend was Labor Day weekend, sort of the last opportunity for people to get done what they haven’t done all summer. It (and the couple of days before it) also seemed to be a good time to find signs/labels that were somewhere between disconcerting and humorous, but at the very least fit the “what were they thinking” category.

In my own case I was blessed with a kidney stone the size of a Buick (somewhere between 1.1-1.5cm across) that I got broken up on the Friday before, so I spent a lot of time miserable and at the same time was bored enough that I felt like going anywhere to do anything. Let me tell you, if you manage to go through life without the opportunity to experience the pleasure of kidney stones you’re really missing out. There are certain bodily functions that you hope to get the same thing every time you perform them and when they become shrouded in mystery and punctuated with an assortment of excruciating pain... oh, and I can’t leave out that the wonderful surprise of being told that the “pain may radiate” which ends up resembling sticking your nether regions in a light socket while clamping them in a vice and indiscriminantly smacking them with a hammer and that is the GOOD part because you know that that bit of pain is almost over... well, let’s leave it at that.

Anyway, sorry for the bad celphone pictures, and as always, they're all clickable for a larger version:



This was at the local Lowes, now remember, I’m in MD, not in Mexico, not in Spain, you know, a few miles north of the Capitol Beltway... WHY THE HECK IS ALL THE WRITING ON THIS DISPLAY OF AMERICAN FLAGS IN SPANISH???

On a lighter note, a the same Lowes in the parking lot I think I found the perfect place to send my mom for her “golden years,” what do you think:

(just kidding mom)

Finally, for you British comedy lovers, this one is for you (mainly because I doubt that anyone normal would get this anyway), I found this one at Home Depot’s upscale decorating center:


I couldn't have said it better myself - That seems like a good note to end on.