The Weekend, Wooo.

It's possible that I need to find a way to make progress in my life without hurting myself. However, I did get a bunch done on the car(s) this weekend, and last week and tonight I got a lot of work done on the house. Since I know no one cares about the car(s), but would at least pretend to be interested in the house stuff, here are some pictures of the cars:



What you see here is the front axle (technically, the subframe) of the car, displaced about 6 feet (and rotated, because it was easier to move it that way). The car is on its back wheels and a couple of jackstands. Here's a shot of just the axle (in front of the engine donor car I mentioned previously):



The two things sticking up just inside the wheels are the shocks; the two things sticking up just inside those are the subframe mounts, which I will never really have this kind of opportunity to replace again. I replaced the driver's side one, but when I tried to take the passenger's side one off, I torqued the bolt off because it was basically a fused mass of rust. So now that has to be drilled out before the mount can be changed. Joy. These mounts are basically the only point of contact between the subframe and the car, in case you care. I know you don't, though.



This is a very exciting exploded drawing of the front axle from the Mercedes Parts Book; the items collectively marked "13" are the subframe mounts I need to replace.



...and this is what the engine compartment looks like with no engine or front axle. The new plan, which my dad and I hit upon because it's MUCH stupider than our original plan, is to remove the engine and transmission from the donor car, mount it on this subframe, and then somehow magically roll the whole 1000+ lb assembly back under the green car, which will be jacked up at a comical angle.

Meanwhile, there isn't enough Advil in the world. In closing, here is a gratuitous shot of the donor car (blue, foreground) and the David Crosby car (dark green, background)... you can just make out the roof of the Gray Beast past the green car.

Greetings From the New Order

According to the City of Baltimore Board of Elections, I am now a Republican. Or at least, I will be on November 7th...

Much to my shock and surprise and shock and awe, said Board of Elections contacted me re: my desire to become an Election Judge. They sent me a very exciting form letter with some dates for Election Judge classes, almost all during work hours, except the one that started at 6:30 on Halloween Night (the classes are 3 hours long, I have since found out). There was a number to call and an email address to reserve a space in a class, and since I hate people and talking to people, I sent an email to the address saying that I could do any of three classes, so let me know what worked best.

Shortly before the week of class, no response, I called the number. A recorded message advised me to leave a message to reserve space in one of several classes that had already met that week. I hung up without leaving a message and hoped for the best.

Tuesday morning I left work and went to the first class (I didn't bother clearing this with work, really; I figure it's like Jury Duty, right? Also, I didn't know the class would be 3 hours long) which was at 10 am at BCCC. I soon discovered that class would be until 1, and texted a coworker, possibly somewhat whinily. Meh.

The class was pretty straightforward, although disturbingly vague on answering any real concerns about the equipment or possible fraud. The overall thesis, which made me just a little proud to be a 'Murican (where at least I know I'm free) was that requesting any sort of proof of ID constituted a poll tax (you have to pay to get an ID) and so we couldn't do it, thus guaranteeing the right to vote to all and sundry (that would be the part that made me proud). The corollary to this thesis is that whenever anything weird happens, fob the person off on a Provisional Ballot, and the Board of Elections would Decide after the election whether that vote was valid, counted, etc. That's right, in the case of ineligible votes, over-votes, impostor votes, etc, a small group of appointees gets to decide what to do with pretty much no oversight. Hooray!

Meanwhile, as class droned on, we learned that the software that Diebold wrote for us is pretty much total crap. Their machines are total crap, pretty much the whole goddamned thing is total crap. Not total crap in the "George Bush wins all statewide offices" sense, at least, not that I can tell, just: if I had worked on that project, I would NOT be proud. Not at all. More on that another time; I haven't had enough to drink yet.

We also learned that we'd be working in a precinct, not necessarily our own, from 5:45 in the morning until the polls closed sometime after 8 pm (if people are still in line at 8, they get to vote (proooooooooud to be an 'Muricaaaaaaaaan....)) with no phones, no reading materials, bring yer own food, no leaving the polling place. Joy. We also found out that the $125/$150 stipend had been recently jacked up to a whopping $150/$200, plus $20 for attending the 3-hour class. Some quick math indicates that this equals just slightly less than $10/hour. WOOOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!

After class, and a thoroughly pointless exercise in checking checkboxes, we were given envelopes as we left that contained our polling place assignments. I, shockingly enough, was not assigned to my own precinct, no! I was assigned to one roughly 5 blocks North of my own precinct. AND I was a Republican Judge, according to the paper... throughout the class they made no mention of any parties other than the two obvious ones, even when telling us that any potentially defraudable activity (such as helping an illiterate person vote) required two judges of different parties, ie: Republican and Democrat. So, to avoid all this messy third-party nonsense, they just have Democrats and Everyone Else, ie: Republicans. So I'm a Republican. For 14 hours.

It's my theory that both the location and the designation are punishment for my audacity in registering Green. I just hope that, for the few short hours that I'm a Republican, I can screw a bunch of poor people out of their money and get rich off the blood of foreign civilians...

Not a Good Sign

When I got off the Light Rail this evening, I climbed the stairs and noticed a beat-up pickup truck that had been stopped by the Transit police. As I walked across the street and towards the overpass, the officer was talking to the driver. When I got under the overpass, I saw the officer pick up what looked like a hunting rifle (it had a sight) and point it in my direction. Um... I watched nervously as he put it down and picked up another one, again sighting down the barrel in my direction.

I thought they taught police gun safety. Um.

I changed course, glancing occasionally over my shoulder to see if Office Yahoo continued to think I was a 10-point buck. Then a wagon came flying down the street and pulled up next to them, but I was already out of visual range.

I'd rather not have to spend any part of my day thinking "OK, if you hear a shot, drop like a sack of flour"...

Meh

Well, I moved my weight bench and the smaller TV into the basement, onto the part of the floor where I've put vinyl adhesive tiles down. In theory, I can still reach behind the bench when I put down the partial tiles, but since that project requires a lot of vacuuming and it's a total bitch to get the shopvac into the basement, it'd probably be wise not to hold your collective breath.

It's also worth noting that I am unlikely to use the weight bench all that soon or often, although my flabby ass desperately needs to, because the weights are spread between the 2nd and 3rd floors, and I have the back of the bench inclined so that I can sit on it and watch TV. Whee!

The TV is a more crucial step, actually; it means that everything is out of the front bedroom, so I can close it off and sand and paint and so on in there, without screwing up the rest of the house. It would certainly be nice to have a room done, especially a bedroom. Check back in June, I guess. Maybe July.

I had a nice chat with my neighbor last night, in which he expressed neighborly pride that I have managed to hang on to my stupid house for 5 years despite all the crap that's been going on (he only knows the vaguest details, but he knows enough to be impressed, apparently). During the conversation, I realized that, while I'm not exactly doing WELL, I have not been forced to declare bankruptcy and go live in the Amtrak tunnel.

So at least that's something.

Yet More Half-Measures

Exciting news! To no one but me!

1. A potentially horrific parts car I bought 4 CHEEP turns out, after only a day of tinkering, to have a fully workable and kind of frighteningly powerful engine (the idle is running too high, so the engine is pretty much always racing, probably a stuck sensor somewhere)... this was intended to replace the engine that I, um, destroyed when driving back from DC several months ago with, um, insufficient oil. Whoops! It had been a plan of mine (before I bought the other, sillier car) to do a partial rebuild anyway, but this kind of forced the issue. It's actually probably just as well, because this car was a fraction of the cost of getting my engine/transmission rebuilt and an even smaller fraction of buying a rebuilt engine and/or transmission. The more you spend, the more you save. Yay? Mostly, though, there's just something about taking a clapped-out hunk of scrap that hasn't run in a couple years and getting the engine to catch that first time. I suspect this is, in a nutshell, why I do this shit. But wait! There's more! While the body is essentially useless (it's more of a detailed rust sculpture than a car), the interior is in great shape, and it has four very nice alloy wheels with at least three good tires. These run anywhere from $25-250 apiece depending on condition, and these are definitely not at the $25 end, so I am going to pretend that I just saved $1000, which is actually more or less accurate considering shipping costs.

2. My dishwasher works! Mostly! I spent a LOT of time doing all the ancillary work (adding a layer to the floor, running wires, connecting hoses, replumbing for the new sinks) and it has finally paid off. Mostly. Turns out that (as perhaps predictable) the wonky ass kludge drain I built so I could drain the too-low garbage disposal into the too-high main drain leaks a bit. Not really sure how I'm going to fix this, although my "put a pail under it" solution seems to be working quite well for the moment. The other issue is that the dishwasher I bought because it's all fancy and efficient and has two drawers (odds of lower drawer ever getting used: zero) only takes powdered detergent, of which I have none. But the soap-less dish-less test run went famously. Next up: soap, and dishes. Whoo!

Do I live an exciting life, or kill me now.

How Many Half Measures Make a Whole?

This was a weekend of qualified progress; I swapped half the alloy wheels (the ones with the new tires) from the '73 to the '70, I identified some of what I need to do to the '73 engine compartment while it still has the engine out, I removed some more of the trim from the '70 I need to remove before it can be painted. I found a bunch of long mislaid useful parts and put them with the rest, chucked a handful of useless and or broken ones, and discovered that I had not, in fact, misplaced the keys to either of the cars (this is very good news). I got a free tasty meal from my parents, plus a bunch of boxes that I can use to temporarily pack up my books.

I poured some leveling compound on a cracked part of the basement floor so I can put down vinyl tiles that I bought over a year ago, I put bookshelves back in down there, I collected a bunch of recycling, I put a panel under the stove so the floor's the same height as the rest of the room, I replaced most of the bulbs in the basement with CFLs, I vacuumed out the EPM, I cleaned a bunch of litter, I caught up on some laundry, I got some dry-cleaning done, I slaughtered some Mongolians (they had it coming). I had a very nice time on Saturday.

All in all, a great weekend. Now if I can just keep it up...

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PS: the first person that says "that's what she said" gets it.

The Great Depression

My issues with the apparent over-eagerness of the clinical world to diagnose pretty much anything that leads to a steady income stream should be well-known to most of my friends. It very much resembles, to me, the utter inability of those inside the Capitol Beltway to recognize that those outside same don't give a crap about all the little petty machinations that go on inside. The more you know about a vague syndrome with vague symptoms, the easier it is to find matches. Viz (from the ever-infallible Wikipedia, see above unfocused rant):

* Feelings of overwhelming sadness and/or fear, or the seeming inability to feel emotion (emptiness). Check, although not really sadness. Who never feels this? Who never feels any of these?

* A decrease in the amount of interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities of the day, nearly every day. Welcome to Modern America, my friend. Welcome to the way the brain works, welcome to the chemical character of the threshold potential.

* Changing appetite and marked weight gain or loss. Um. Really? How marked is "marked", exactly?

* Disturbed sleep patterns, such as insomnia, loss of REM sleep, or excessive sleep (Hypersomnia). Yeah. So?

* Psychomotor agitation or retardation nearly every day. What? UPDATE: HA HA HA!

* Fatigue, mental or physical, also loss of energy. Again, who never feels this? Stop eating fucking poptarts, you loon! Stop drinking so much coffee while you pretend to be working!

* Intense feelings of guilt, helplessness, hopelessness, worthlessness, isolation/loneliness and/or anxiety. See second point above. Do you get the sense these are repeating? That's probably your lack of focus and memory, or possibly your change in perception of time talking...

* Trouble concentrating or making decisions or a generalized slowing and obtunding (to dull or blunt, especially sensation or pain) of cognition, including memory. I'm certain this has nothing to do with the general meaninglessness of most people's made-up jobs, nor the sameness of popular "art", etc., etc. Nope!

* Recurrent thoughts of death (not just fear of dying), recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide. Well, OK, this one I don't have, but that's because I am a Big Giant Atheist, which tends to put a really effective kibosh on thoughts of suicide, because while I don't seem to be able to not fuck stuff up, I am pretty certain that I stand less of a chance of fixing anything if I am nourishing soil organisms.

* Feeling and/or fear of being abandoned by those close to one. It was just that one time at the mall... actually, I don't feel this, really, but that's mostly because I've thought a lot about what sort of stresses and obligations those close to me are under. I would imagine that this one would be really really easy if I were, say, an incredibly selfish bastard, which I suspect is why it's so easy for so many other people.

* Self-loathing. Oh god yes. What kind of asshole doesn't loathe him/herself on occasion? I figure, go with your strengths.

* A decrease in self-esteem. Not bloody likely. But who can tell when your self-esteem is based on a continuous hard look at yourself? If you'd like to focus on my blog, you may see this, but if you are also someone who would have to think a minute before deciding whether I'm arrogant or not, then you can see the imprecision of this particular symptom.

* Inattention to personal hygiene. Uh, my excuse this morning is that I was sort of hungover, and didn't shave so well. My excuse in general is that since I make fun of the guys at work that spend half their salary on shirts, and since I have no money, I'll be damned if I'm going to look spiffy when there's no reason to.

* Sensitivity to noise. Hey, things are loud. People are annoying. Frankly, I don't want to listen to them, or look at them. I'm fairly certain that's more a symptom for them than for me.

* Physical aches and pains, and the belief these may be signs of serious illness. When you smack things hard and don't remember it when the bruise appears, when you ignore illness or injury and occasionally idly wonder if you shouldn't, why wouldn't you assume from time to time that your sinus headache is either a tumor or a burgeoning aneurysm?

* Fear of 'going mad'. Ha! Already there, man.

* Change in perception of time. Well, when I have a head cold, I feel like everything's going really fast. Does that count? Again, does anyone NEVER feel this?

* Periods of sobbing. OK, not this one either. Tragic story, my tear ducts were chewed out by rats during my last period of sobbing while living under a bridge in Newark. Tragic, and also a lie. NEXT!

* Possible behavioral changes, such as aggression and/or irritability. Um. Shit. No dodging this one. Gonna go ahead and blame it on the coffee cycle.

So, what, I meet something like 95% of the criteria for clinical depression? Awesome.

Before someone posts some sanctimonious comment about how their cousin (the one with the nest of baby spiders in her face, maybe) or aunt or daughter or sister suffers from debilitating clinical depression, and how can I be so insensitive, bla, bla, let me just say: I know they do. I'm not saying depression isn't real, I'm saying that people that are depressed because the chemicals in their brain are wonky and their feedback loops get out of whack are NOT the same as people that are depressed because Drone B got the promotion to manager and they didn't. The latter may live depressing lives, but so do most people. Get over it. Ask yourself if you'd rather have a job you love or enough money to pay for cable to watch TV that doesn't suck (all the time) and shut the fuck up. According to that same infallible Wikipedia entry, 16% of Americans are clinically depressed. That's 1/6th of the country. Is every sixth person you know clinically depressed? Or does your shrink just have a much nicer yacht than you do?

Those of you that are actually depressed, get well soon, and try to avoid going on medication that will suppress the symptoms and feedback loops without teaching you how to recognize them, and how to short-circuit them.

Up next: Alcoholism and Adult ADD! Or not! We'll see what the comments look like!

Blurp

Would you believe TWO happy hours for my departing coworker? Sure, one for the weekend before she's leaving, and one for the actual last day. Makes perfect sense to me.

The Wednesday one worked out well, because it turns out it's really easy to park on Charles Street on Wednesday evening, although it's inversely easy to get a waitress that won't ignore you, especially when she's leaving work in less than half an hour. Luckily, her replacement had all kinds of energy. Also, XS has an awesome Volcano Roll, which I already knew, because Broadsheet and I once had them on a particularly drunken evening (for me at least) after we watched Sideways at the Charles and, um, drank a bottle of wine each during the movie. Ahem.

It's nice to know that the Volcano Roll is still excellent while (mostly) sober.

Smeh

Not a lot going on today. Might be stuck in one o' them time loops. Resolve to count the number of dots on Data's lapel.

I did tape some plastic sheets to the floor. And they say I don't know how to live. Did I mention, I REALLY am not looking forward to painting the ceiling? It's not like anyone looks up there, anyway, right?

What the hell color does one paint a ceiling, anyway? This is sort of like matching socks to one's pants and/or shirt. Dude, the socks are SO far away, and they're really not the focus of the ensemble... can't we just throw some on and leave them?

Sadly, the woman who owned the house before me believed very strongly in painting things various shades of flesh (like the racist crayon, not like actual flesh) and mushroom. I pretty much want to paint every surface in the house. Except who's got that kind of time?

Crazy People

The other morning when I got to the Light Rail, a crazy woman was arguing with one of the fare inspectors. She had the sound and attitude of a homeless person that had been caught peeing in a stairwell, yelling and defensive and angry. The fare inspector was unhelpful, mocking her and dismissing her and motioning in a derogatory fashion to another fare inspector.

I never did figure out what the woman was on about, but she was dressed well enough, and had a laminated badge that suggested she works for the city or a university or something; apparently she was just at the end of her rope, and crazy, as noted.

It sounded like she was shouting about the fare machines. It sounded like she had confronted the fare inspector because she was unable to purchase a fare, which is fair enough, since at least one of the machines at that station is always broken, if not both. She yelled something about how the fare inspectors should be able to tell someone that the machines are broken, which they should, but I guess when she demanded they do it, she copped an attitude. I do know that they keep track of which machines are down, so when someone claims they couldn't buy a ticket, the inspector asks them where they got on.

All this by way of foreshadowing my eventual What's Wrong With The Baltimore Light Rail post, which I will be working on, just as soon as I find the battery charger for my camera. Let's just say: neither of them is wrong, although it's probably not very professional to loudly mock a patron of the system you're supposed to be monitoring, crazy though she may be.

Risking Snarky Comments

I just wanted to say that I went by a certain friend of mine's store earlier today, and it's just really really nice, and I am so proud of him, and simultaneously incredulous that I know someone that owns an actually bona fide store, and not just a van that they sell suspicious meat products out the back of, even though he does that too.

Anyway, everyone should go by there and buy stuff, even though I didn't do such a great job myself, but I'm pretty sure this is because I don't have any money. I refrained from shoplifting anything, though, and since I considered shoplifting a couch, I figure I saved him a lot of money.

So. And before it is posted, no, aliens have not made off with my usual personality. So fuck off.

It's Still September, Right?

I'm going to go ahead and pretend today is one of those slash days when the month has too many weeks on the calendar... it's TOTALLY 31/1, and I don't care how many days September is sposta have.

Also, I was at my brother's house last night, and while he has a computer and internet access and e'e'ything, I wasn't feeling like posting. And also: meh. And also: not like anyone else is paying any attention to Content Challenge, yo...

Meanwhile, the left side of my face is basically swollen shut because I apparently don't sleep on dog-fur-inoculated couches often enough. Who knew? I brought some Benadryl down, but after my last Benadryl+I97-related near-death experience, I thought sneezing a lot was the better part of valor. And lo: I did not die. Good times.

In other news, their power went out and ate my requested Wire DVRs, so... um... Broadsheet? Holla!

I am in need of eps 38-41 at this point (41 is on tonight, if I'm not mistaken, but I got other stuff to do this eventide...) Thanking you in advance...