02262K3
Today I didn't have any money for lunch so I went home to eat. Unfortunately all I had to eat was some beef jerky and frozen pancakes. I like beek jerky and I like pancakes, but if possible I try not to make meals out of beef jerky and pancakes; especially frozen pancakes, because I don't know how to prepare frozen pancakes. I tried microwaving them and they didn't turn out too well, so I pretended they were waffles and stuck them in the toaster. They came out nice and crispy. I tried wrapping a less crispy pancake around the beef jerky and that didn't taste good at all. In fact, it was pretty nasty, but the toasted pancakes by themselves were alright. Later I'll try making a dip out of cool-whip and syrup, and use the pancakes as tortilla chips.
Now you may be wondering why I don't have money for lunch, or you may not because that last paragraph is probably the dumbest thing I've ever spilled on this page and now you're removing my site from your bookmarks. Either way...I don't know where I'm going with this. Just make something up in your head as opposed to outside of your head, because that would be pretty freaky and I wouldn't have too many kind things to say about that other than "Man, that is freaky," and come up with your own conclusion. You could take the obvious route, which is that I spent all my money on car stuff and now I'm forced to eat beef jerky and frozen pancakes for lunch, or you could be a bit more creative/unbelievably stupid and conclude that I blew all my money on an addiction to beef jerky and frozen pancakes and my family is seeing that I get the treatment I need regardless of whether I want it or not, and it's obviously not working because I'm still eating beef jerky and frozen pancakes for lunch and they are all thinking I am clean or in the process of getting clean like a bunch of chumps.
02252K3
My car sucks, part 2.
After collecting a few extra things (pcv valve, shocks, oil, wires) I was ready to try my hand at getting my car to Leesburg today. My dad called me last night, assuring me he'd be awake and told me that I better be there at 7:30 and no later. I showed up at about 7:35 out of spite and he was still sleeping. So I banged on his window for a while until he finally started yelling stuff that sounded like slack-jawed Arabic. I had to wait for him to take a shower, drink a bunch of coffee and get all his tools together. I wasn't quite sure why he needed tools at the time, but I didn't bother asking because everytime I ask something he makes a reply in the form of a twenty minute lecture, and we were running pretty late.
After five minutes of me trying to start my car we were finally off. We took the slow way (back roads) to "avoid all the traffic" and got behind people who were apparently competing to see who could drive lowest below the speed limit, as each time the guy in front would turn off, the next driver wouldn't care to speed up at all, and so-on. We finally got there at about 8:45 and I expected to just give the guy my keys, tell him what to do and then my dad would give me a ride to work. Unfortunately me getting to my job is apparently not quite as important as my dad's truck sort-of not working right. As soon as I got done talking to the mechanic and writing a list of what I wanted done (because saying "I have a lot of stuff in the back seat. Install it." doesn't work according to my father), the jackass goes over and starts fiddling around under his truck and asks me to hand him a wrench. I asked him if he could do that after he drove me to work. "This is a little more important than getting you to your job. I can't just ignore this problem." Well shit, excuse me for wanting to remain employed. His truck was supposedly taking two or three tries to start up every once in a while. The mechanic (whom I believe was a friend of my father's in vocational school or something) told him to start it up so he could see what it was doing, so he cranked it and it started just fine. Then he got under the truck again and started loosening nuts and reconnecting wires and asking stupid questions and ignoring the fact that I had to be at work. I'm not exactly sure what he was doing down there, other than messing stuff up, but after he was done and after 25 minutes of trying to reconnect the battery cables, his truck wouldn't start at all. So he banged on the starter with a hammer for a while while the mechanic turned the key, and after a while a puff of smoke came out of it.
OK, problem solved - need a new starter ($130 for a rebuilt one for his truck). How do I know that the problem is the starter? I dunno, it might be that smoke was coming from it and the truck's not starting. That didn't stop my dad from reconnecting everything and blaming the wires and cables. I guess it's normal for starters to do nothing but blow out smoke. After about twenty minutes of tinkering with stuff he finally took it off and had my step mom come pick us up and take me to work. It took her a while to get there because my dad had her do some stuff before she left the house, and when we were finally on our way he had to stop to get some beer. I think I finally got to work at about 10:45.
As for the suckage of my car, it'll need a few grand to get it up to top shape (transmission is going, engine needs to be rebuilt, could use a new carb, paint job, headers, tires, wheels), but a tune-up should get me to work and back without stalling every few miles at least.
02232K3
My car sucks.
Today I had planned on decreasing the suckage by a degree or two. Actually my dad planned it. I'd never plan anything that would involve me waking up that early. He told me to be at his house at 7:30 so that we could take it to a garage in Leesburg (about a 45min drive away from where I live, given traffic conditions and the suckiness of my car) for a tune-up, basically. I already have most of the parts I need, but I need a lift to get to the spark plugs. I don't know why I can't just take it to a garage around here to do it. There must be some kind of local garage pyramid scam that I'm not aware of.
I showed up at 7:45 and he was still asleep, so I knocked on all the doors and all the windows for about five minutes until he finally woke up. Then he didn't want to do it because he stayed up all night drinking. Yay. I went to work around 8 and slept with my eyes open until the phone started ringing, which was about 8:10. I thought the phone system was supposed to block calls before 9. That piece of shit. I answered it anyway. It was some crabby lady with a Boston accent wondering where her hydrocodone was, and she wouldn't take "I don't have any record of you in our system" as an answer.
02162K3
My weekend was wonderful. On Saturday morning my grandmother woke me up by phone to tell me that she wants my brother and I to go to our old house and haul a bunch of brush off to the dump. It would have been nice if we knew about this sooner, as Josh had gotten maybe two hours of sleep. We went over there and began slowly chipping away at the mountain of debris (about six feet high, fifteen feet wide and ten foot deep), pulling heavy limbs from the bottom and putting everything on my dad's trailer, while my dad sat back and told us to go faster. Later on my grandmother came over and started helping us with that and he was still just standing around, barking orders. I think the most he did was cut up a few limbs that were too long with his chainsaw. Thanks, Dad. If it weren't raining somewhat heavily the entire time I might have almost considered making something up about it while doing it that might have made it almost enjoyable. At one point the rain and sweat were steaming off of me in a thick cloud.
Four hours later we hauled that shit off to the dump and came back. Being soaked and exhausted I was eager to get back home, but my car apparently didn't share in my eagerness. It stalled out four or five times as I made my way down the road, and eventually refused to start back up again. I could smell the clogged catalytic converter. Called AAA for the third time in two or three weeks and had it towed to my house. It took the guy over an hour to get there, and I was cold as hell. Instead of fixing it Sunday, I had to help my dad to prep his yard at his future home for sodding. Why can't he do it himself? Because the hypocritical, moronic asshole woke up at 1 in the afternoon (it was around 2 when he called me, when I was waiting for Clay to bring some tools over) and needed it to be done by 5. So he picked my brother and I up and we went out there and raked a bunch of dirt while he kind of stood around like always. Got back around 6:45 (we had to do something else..don't quite remember what it was) and the idiot had me jack up my car while it was in the dirt and see if we could take the cat off. So not only are we jacking up a heavy car like my Camaro in the soft dirt and crawling under it (well at least he was, anyway), but we're doing it in the fucking dark. And then the moron complains about not being able to see anything. No shit? Disregarding all these setbacks, he still managed to loosen the clamp and detach the rear pipe from the cat. Good job, now what? He put everything back on and we pushed it up into the driveway.
Today I jacked it up and loosened the cat and saw that I'd need to cut it because the pipes were sealed, bust it out with a hammer and some rebar and then reattach it with a pipe fitting and some clamps that I'd get from Clay when he got off work at 5, since he works in an automotive parts store and has access to that sort of thing. My dad came over to "help" around 4 and proceeded to run his mouth about a bunch of bullshit that he seems to think has any relevance to what I'm doing. He saw the smaller pipe on the cat and asked me how to take it off. I told him I already loosened the clamp on it, and that the only way to take it off would be to cut it off, since it's connected internally. So he told me that we can't cut it off because it would "break" and told me to look in the manual and see what it said to do. So I told him that all it said to do was take the clamp off. He kept talking and talking and talking while I looked through the book to see where it's connected to, and what it's for, and he said "I feel like I'm talking to myself here." So I asked him what he wanted me to say whenever he shut his mouth long enough for me to get a word in. Expected him to blow up at me, but instead he blew up at my stepmom for knocking over his beer. Then I was kind of wondering why my stepmom was even there, because she's fucking useless. He brings her along a lot and I have no clue why.
Clay came over and told my dad how to handle the cat, since he does this sort of thing all the time, and my dad pretty much ignored him and said that cutting the line and the pipe would "break" it. He said we don't know where the line goes to, so Clay told him exactly where it went and exactly what it does. Again, he just ignored him and said "we'll just mess things up if we cut it, because we still don't know what this thing goes to." Clay suggested I change the fuel filter while I was working on it, since he had brought one with him. He started to take the old one off until my dad argued with him over how it comes off. Then Clay looked in my manual and verified that his way was correct (as if taking a fuel filter off a carb were really that fucking hard to figure out). Again, he argued with him and tried it his way. He almost broke my fuel line. Clay then took it off and replaced it. It looked like it had never been changed. While he was doing this my stepmom knocked over another beer and my dad went ballistic. It was funny as hell.
My car at least runs now. I'll get the catalytic thing sorted out this weekend if my car is still running by then.
02102K3
Me: "Hello."
Some very young-sounding girl chewing gum: "Hey um.." *chewing chewing chewing OMG CHEWING GUM* "Is this um James?"
Me: "...Yeah..."
Girl: "Oh....coOol!" *CHEW CHEW CHEWING SOME MORE*
Me: "..Did you want something?"
Girl: *smack* "Um.." *smack chew smack chew smack chew SHE JUST KEEPS CHEWING AND BREATHING* "whatcha doin?"
Me: "Taking my phone number off of my site. You?"
Girl: *long exhale* "HUUMmUMMm..." *SMACK SMACK CHEW HAAAHHHHHHH CHEW SMACK CHEW HHHHAAAHHHHHH SMACK CHEW* "You sound ooOlder."
Me: "Yeah, how 'bout that."
*phone mysteriously turns off*
02092K3
I've recently made a somewhat disturbing discovery. McDonald's actually has something that doesn't taste like it came straight from a bull's ass: their new chicken nuggets. If I'm lying, may a cactus rain down on me from Canada and stab me in the genitals. Gordon and Ben bought 40 of them Friday night and gave me a 10-piece. I figured I'd give them a try since they were supposedly new, all-white-meat nuggets. They were pretty damn good, so Saturday I had Greg, who just happens to work at McDonalds, to go order 100 of them. It took a while because most McDonald's employees can't count that high, but he eventually came back with them and I grilled up some steaks to go with them, using my Coke & Tabasco marinade.
Marinade instructions:
Get a fairly large bowl.
Pour just enough olive oil to cover the bottom.
Add salt, pepper, garlic and steak seasoning (I used McCormick's Montreal steak seasoning).
Lay the steaks in.
Pour a little balsamic vinegar in, but not too much unless you like that extra tangy flavor.
Add more salt, pepper, garlic and steak seasoning.
Use a whole bottle of Tabasco Chipotle sauce (the new flavor) to cover the meat.
Pour a 20oz bottle of regular Coke in.
Put the bowl in the fridge and leave it there for a whole day. This gives the Coke time to eat away at the outside of the meat, but the olive oil will coat it as it rises to the top of the bowl so it'll be perfectly tenderized. When you take it out, the oil will be floating on top. It'll burn off when you put the meat on the grill, so don't worry about it.
02052K3
Changed the title of Final Darkness to Machine Prophecy, which was the name of my hidden-away gamehacking crew that dispersed a few months ago. Since I hate having domains I don't use, I figured I'd put it to use with that, since it's not as quite a cheesey title as FD was, and it even fits the story premise. And opposed to what you may be thinking, I am well aware that no one really cares, thank you.
Paid $250 to have a Flowmaster 50 series exhaust put on, along with a few other things adjusted and worked on, and now the damn thing's stalling out as I'm driving down the road. I can't tell if it's doing it because it's not getting enough gas when it drops a gear and the two other barrels open, or if it's getting too much and flooding itself. Either way, my carb sucks. I just shelled out about $1200 for insurance so I can't go buy a new one just yet. Oh well, getting to work tomorrow (or later today, rather) should be interesting.
And now some random dialog:
Flash: So, what is it you guys do around here for fun? Evilcrow: That depends. Flash: On what? Evilcrow: Depends on which era of our existence you're referring to: pre-the-most-powerful-being-ever-goes-crazy-and- goes-on-a-rampage-while-we're-losing-team-mates-to- various-causes-of-death-and-departure, or currently- nearing-the-inevitable-apocalypse-which-we-are-utterly- powerless-to-prevent. Flash: Uh..whichever one of those means "now." Evilcrow: I think we've run out of ideas for fun things to do. Flash: Oh, c'mon, if you think there's really nothing we can do, and that the world is going to end soon, why not live it up? You know, have some fun to get our minds off of something we have no control over, anyway. Evilcrow: I'm confused. Are you trying to cheer us up, or are you trying to motivate us into fighting something we have no hopes of beating, just for the sake of not going down without a fight? Flash: I was just wanting to blow all my cash, but that last bit sounds fine to me. But after all, there are only two important types of people on this planet - those who are dead, and those who are about to die. As being a member of the latter group, I'd like to make my stay here as enjoyable as possible. Evilcrow: Hell, I guess we've got nothing to lose either way. Rezor enters. Rezor: If we only do what we feel is the right thing to do, in fear of punishment, or in pursuit of a reward of some sort, then we truly are a sad lot. Evilcrow: What are you saying? Rezor: My father said something to me almost two centuries ago, which loosely translates as thus: "If you are swimming through shit, keep swimming. Even if you see no way to get out of it, if you keep swimming you will at the very least keep your head out of it, and keep it out of your head." Flash: That sounds nice, but how does that apply to this situation? Rezor: I am not sure. Everything I remember him saying involved doing some sort of recreational activity with feces, so I get them mixed up from time to time. Evilcrow: I get it...kind of. You're saying that since we're already in this situation we might as well make the best of it. Flash: That's what I've been saying all along! Rezor: No..I think the point of that was to always fight to win, even if the situation appears to be hopeless. You can take it either way. Evilcrow: And that makes it pretty much useless, being that it supports both options here. Rezor: I suppose so. You must, however, remember what exactly we are up against. Sandman is not of sound mind, and power is useless without control. We could either be a deer frozen in the hunter's light as catasrophe comes to claim us, or we could be the spider who has spun a web of cunning, and wait for our prey to come to us. Flash: Is that something your father said? Rezor: No, I believe I read that somewhere. My father did say something similar, though: "A dog that runs and shits at its leisure can cause even kings to slide in shit. But the dog remains a dog, and the king remains a king." Evilcrow: That's similar? Rezor: Yes, if you note the striking similarities of that between... nevermind, I am not even going to rationalize it. Just take my word for it. Evilcrow: Gotcha.
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craigsucks at gmail dot com