Mirrors: They Break

I'm not a luck-based person. So I'm not overwhelmingly concerned that I tripped (while de-pants-ing) and fell backwards into this mirror in my room. But boy howdy did the clean-up suck. Try to avoid doing that.

Bloop Beep Bloop

I submit that the most annoying cell-phone-related behavior is dialing into your phone a phone number as I'm dictating it to you via a phone call to that same phone on which you're dialing.

DUDE. ACQUIRE A PEN.

James Joyce Was An Automechanic By Day

There is a man named Dave who works in a vineyard across the street from my cabin. A few words about Dave: He used to be a brewer, and when he was a brewer, he built a house upon a hill. Later, somebody decided they wanted to put a vineyard on that hill. They put the vineyard around Dave's house, and they bought out his brewery and put a vineyard where that was, too. Now Dave works in that vineyard. When he talks about his favorite things - tools and cars and car tools - it sounds to me like Finnegan's Wake.

The other day Dave needed a ride up the vineyard to his house. He asked me and I took him.
"I don't know what fat match taught you to drive the stick shift," Dave told me. "But you don't seem to know what you're doing."
"Oh?" I said.
"Yes," said Dave. "You see, when you push the clutch in, like you're doing, the cranknugget engages your steel-plated hop-scotch twin-busted holy holer. Then, the babbelers, with their thangas vain were and went; thiggin thugs were and houhnhymn songtoms were and comely norgels werew and pollyfool fiansees, these friends engage and hit the firstist of gearshodcrankmembers . . .".

Forty minutes later, as he got out of his car, I asked Dave for some duct tape.
"Duct tape?" Dave said. "I don't have any duct tape. But I do have michindaddy tape. Tis the flabberngilly bestest"
"Oh?" I said.
"Yes," said Dave. "You see, you in America like duct tape because it's cheap and easy to rip rap round. But michindaddy pillar kraal tape, well, it hath locktoes, shortshins, and, well even you Ryan have to admit, mammamuscles most mousterious. It slacks nuncheon out of something. Marracks and alebrill. Tis forever, michindaddy. Tis forever and ever and everer."

Some Quick Words Regarding The Whereabouts of Your Friend Teddy

The above picture shows my cabin on the right, and Teddy's on the left. Notice something strange? That's right. Teddy's house is empty.

Ten days ago, Teddy disappeared into the night, leaving nothing in his cabin but a small sheet of paper with the heading, "Dear Ryan . . ." and no other words. Also in the cabin was a bag of perfectly good apples, which I ate. Some say the law caught up with Teddy and chased him down to Stewart Island. Others say he's causing trouble in Auckland. I like to think that, wherever he is, he's smiling.

Life on the hills of Cromwell has become noticeably quieter and sadder in the absence of Teddy, and I write this blog in the hopes that, wherever he may be, he checks out wryandstanley and sees that we're all thinking about him.

Good on ya, old boy.

A Picture Of Queenstown From Atop The Mountain Where I Gave A Kid A Concussion By Elbowing Him Off The Luge Course

I'm a real gas

I meant to tell you!

A few weeks ago, I botched some minor thing at work. No big deal, and I was chided mildly via e-mail. I said the basic "thanks for the heads up" sort of thing, adding "must've been a brain fart", only to wince at the expression "brain fart".

Seemed a bit crude for this situation, yet I wanted something light-hearted and silly to note that I was indeed taking the suggestion in-stride. (Yes, sadly, sometimes in life, this sort of gesture is necessary.)

Hence was born: "brain burp"!

I've been using it ever since, and I invite you to use it as you see fit.

I did it for science

Based on my own empirical research, I wanted to share some findings. You see, it turns out, if you allow your coolant to run completely out, then your engine will stop running—even when you're driving!

Additionally, I have discovered that I really, really enjoy power steering, and that turning a coasting car into a parking space without power steering really fucking blows.

Join me again next time on Mindblowing Shit from the Forefront of Scientific Research.

Anyway, I didn't die, so it's fine.

The worst storm I ever drove through was on I-64 between Charlottesville and Richmond. I was driving home from college. (Yes, Beth, this is the day from which originates the infamous "please don't go!" story. Yes, we're still assholes for laughing about it.)

There was like a foot of snow on the road, and visibility was maybe 15 feet. It took three-and-a-half hours to complete what's normally a one-hour trip. Scary as all hell, too.

The second worst storm was here tonight, driving home from work. Sheet after sheet of thick, nasty rain. There was standing water at the top of hills. I couldn't even make out the lanes at one point. And hydroplaning? Yes, I did that a lot, and it was seriously stressful.

And yes, I'm blogging about weather. Suck it.

* * *

My current NetFlix movie is The Singing Detective, and it seems pretty good. But I can't for the life of me remember why I added it to my queue, oh these many months ago.

I think it may have been a recommendation of an Unfogged commenter, but I can't find the reference. It's driving me a bit bonkers. And this happens quite frequently.

Hence! An idea: NetFlix should let you enter a little note to yourself (e.g., "recommended by Bayleaf, for the soundtrack"), and then they'd include the note with the delivery of the movie. Or, to be more eco-friendly, in an e-mail.

Yes. I know. I'm brilliant.

* * *

Today at work, I IMed a co-worker about something. Then when I confirmed the thing, I said "Cool, just chicken."

And really, I think Just Chicken would be a cool band name. You could have a logo with a chicken dressed up like Lady Justice. Which, in my demented mind, is funny.

* * *

It occurred to me today that I'm making enough money from gigging that I can probably go to three-quarter time at work. Or maybe even half-time. I can't describe how much this would improve my grumpy demeanor. And I'm seriously considering it (if they'll let me, of course).

Downside: I might lose all or some health care. Goddamn stupid-ass employer-based health-care system. I shake my fist at you.

On Our Recent Acquisitions

I don't know whether to be more elated by the recent steal-of-a-find purchase of a barely used $200 snare drum for the low, low cost of $80, or to be more discomfited by the subsequent purchase of a case for said drum for $89.

And, no, I haven't been blogging. But I might! Soon!