One bourbon, one scotch, and one mav

I started keeping a personal journal again today. I just need somewhere to vent. There’s so many things I desperately need to post here, just for the catharsis, but can’t because they’re all relating to customers. And I don’t want to get fired. It was a very long day today. Almost all of it was spent on the phone. I’d like to share this snippet from my journal for the day with everyone.

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Have you ever been somehow engaged in conversation with someone before when it strikes you that you absolutely, positively, beyond the shadow of a doubt, hate them? And I don’t mean hate, like “They never give me enough hotsauce packets” hate, but “I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger” hate. Wish they would take a flying brick to the face and die, bleeding out, on a busy street while people indifferently walk around them? Want desperately to get up one morning, read the paper, and find that someone broke into their home and tortured them to death mere yards away from the salvation of a neighbor’s house or passing car, wondering if you’d be shocked more by the article or by the warm, comfortable feeling that washes over you - because you know, deep down, they were so utterly without worth that no matter what the violence required to remove them from the world the math still ends up on the side of “better that they’re gone.”

I didn’t know I could feel such animosity toward a person. I really didn’t. I mean, there’s a lot of motherfuckers out there I wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire, but this is a new level of hate for me.

Only two more to go: 70-270, which I’m taking on Wednesday morning, and 70-298, which will come as soon after 270 as I feel comfortable with.

Very soon this horrible, horrible shit will all be over and done with and I can get back to having a life again.

And last but not least, here are some pics of the car.
You’re walking down Taylor Street. But wait, what’s this?!

You get closer. What is that most curious object sitting where there used to be a busted-up Chevy?

Why, it’s a 2004 Subaru Impreza WRX STi! How do you tell? Well, it’s got no bug-eyes for lights, and the grill doesn’t have huge gaps!

Complete with giant wing!

What’s really neat about today is I got the factory BBS wheels put back on, so it looks like a proper Subie again. And I got it washed by the (very, very) fine folks over at Mr. Wash. Washed off all that rain (so it can rain again.) But in that brief moment where it isn’t covered with rain spots and dust, and the sun’s actually out to shine down upon it, you get to see what’s so neat about the black paint.

Okay, so it could have dried better… ah well. Life mostly goes on.

So how do you get the stubborn door panels off your car?

With a spatula.

And in case anybody out there needs to know what Subaru door panels look like, here you go. This is the front driver’s door from my 2004 Impreza WRX STi.

The door wells in this car are extremely shallow, and to that end, I tried to find shallower speakers to put in them. The rear doors are going to get Infinity reference drivers, and they’re not nearly as shallow as I’d hoped - we’ll see how they work, because I haven’t sized them yet. For the front doors, I bought a set of MB Quart components, which I heard fit quite well; they were listed as being ’shallow mount,’ but I had no idea what I was in for. Oh, those wacky Germans. Check these crazy things out:

What’s that, you say? What’s that thing on the front? Well, brother, that’s the VOICE COIL. No shit. It’s incredibly shallow-mount, because they mounted the voice coil on the fucking front. Is that cool or what.

I’m really excited to get these in the doors, which I will hopefully be doing this weekend.

I’ve got a whole bunch of shit I’ve been saving up because I haven’t had time to post all the pix. Well, I’ve got some free time tonight, so here goes:

Those of you who know me (which is pretty much everybody who reads this blog) know that my grandparents have been going through a lot of shit lately. They’re probably going to have to move out of the home they’ve lived in since the 60’s (or was it earlier?) They had been slowly giving away shit that other family members wanted, but serious health concerns have dramatically accelerated the process. Where does this come in, you ask?

Everybody, meet That 70’s Couch:

It’s huge. It’s pretty damn comfy. They got this crazy sofa from a relative (I forget whom?) when I was young, and it’s occupied the west wall of their living room ever since. Now it’s occupying mine. I’ve spent way, way too many Thanksgivings and Christmases passed out on this couch, after eating my weight in Grandma’s holiday dinner. It seems wrong that it’s in my living room, but my grandparents gave it to me. I guess they figured at this point we were old friends, and they’re probably right.

I’ll carry on later about why this whole family thing is utterly infuriating.

Hard right off of 93 onto mile road something-or-another, a mile south of 93-30. Downshift into 2nd to make the turn, and that was way too low… tach shoots up to 5K quick, car surges forward… still haven’t gotten the hang of what gear I need to be in at what time. Shoulda been in 3rd.

I’m out southwest of town, east of 93, looking for the road. I’ve spent a lot of time looking for the road, but this is the first time in at least five years.

Back in ‘99-’00 I had a lot of time on my hands, and for various reasons found myself unable to sleep well. I was up very late almost every night, unable to get to sleep until 0200-0300 or so. I had a new(er?) car and spent a lot of that time late at night driving around.

On one particular occasion, I got a call on my cell phone while heading south on 93, had to get back to town ASAP, and immediately cut to the east on the first mile road I found and just mashed the gas pedal, took my new-old Lumina all the way up to 105 - which in that car, is as close to airborne as you’ll ever care to be.

The battery-powered Logitech speakers that are currently doubling as my ‘car stereo’ (until this weekend) are blaring out ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic songs. As Al sings about the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota, it occurs to me that he guy in front of me has narrow taillights that stack up. Looks like somebody illuminated the vents on Doc Brown’s Delorean. This guy’s never gonna get back in time unless he at least tries to hit 88. And now I’ve been watching his fucking taillights so long I mist Grandview. Find a driveway, flip a bitch. Use the opportunity to switch to Children of Bodom.

This car responds unlike any car I have ever driven (and likely, will ever drive again.) All wheel drive + rally suspension = a level of control that you’re simply not used to. Since I boil everything down to computer euphemisms, I’d say it Just Works - if you give it a demand, unless it’s so ludicrous as to be physically impossible. it can do it.

Hang a left on Grandview, heading south. Going pretty fast, downshift into 3rd and let it rip. Got it right this time, it accelerates hard but it’s not out of control. I start going up through gears, Grandview passing underneath my tires like an old friend.

Back when I used to spend my nights driving around the Magic Valley, wondering what I had become, Grandview was one of my jumping-off points. Grandview south, I84 north, and from there it’s anybody’s guess. On this particular road I am completely at home and at ease.

But I still can’t find it.

I know my road, wherever it is, intersects Grandview, because during my balls-hauling escapade that night, I had to take Grandview south to Addison. I can find it by retracing my steps, I think, as I drive south on Grandview. Plus there are lots of stopsigns, so I can practice my launches from 1st.

I get about 5 miles out and realize that I’m coming up on the House With The Crazy Driveway Lights, that every time I come up on it I think it’s a friggin’ cop car. Don’t know why. It spooked me one night and now it’s stuck with me. But that means I’m all the way out to the Speedway, and I still haven’t found my road. So I flip a bitch and start back.

I realize a few hundred yards down the road that Grandview is a straight, fairly well-maintained road that goes on for about 2 miles, slight downslope to the north, no breaks at all. Dead stop. No cars coming at all. Fuck it, I’m not getting any younger.

I start well in 1st. Once it goes over 3500, the car pins me back in its seat. The rev alarm light fires in 1st and I drop it into 2nd, Hate Crew Deathroll (the song, not the album) hits. Some things are better when they’re unplanned. Perfect shift into 2nd. The rushing sound the turbo makes sounds like a fucking jet engine in my ears. Drop it into 3rd and I’m still locked back in my seat. Quick glance, I’m over 60. That’s 4.6 seconds. Into 4th, quick glance and I’m up to 80. Into 5th, and back off the throttle. I still have a mile or so to go before I hit a stop sign. I bring it back down to normal speeds and come up to the stop sign like Grandma going to church.

On my way back I found my road. Guess I can only find it when I’m headed south. Doesn’t matter, though. I’m a different person than I was back in 99 on that road. It doesn’t hold the power it used to hold. I’m sad, but I’m not; it means I can adapt to things that I don’t necessarily want to, but I don’t have to forget them or make excuses. It’s a good step. Maybe I am getting better.

I suppose the amazing car can’t hurt, either.

I’ve been a big fan of Violent Acres since the first time I read it. Last week V published an amazing story that you really need to read. I’ve been on the Internet so long that I’m a jaded, bitter asshole (who conveniently blames his jaded bitterness on the Internet) and I know 99% of everything published on the internet is utter bullshit, but it’s good reading even if it is utter bullshit. Read it and try to change the way you think about what you see. I know I do exactly what V describes at the end of her story - some might say that I do it for a living - but I’m trying to change.

3 parts:
Diary of a Teenage Runaway
The Ultimate Luxury
Fifteen and Already a Wife

When I was little, I really, really liked corvettes. I thought they were the coolest looking cars ever, and Face from the A-Team had one. I wanted one really desperately.

When I was a little older, I wanted a big car that went pretty fast so that I could put a ridiculous stereo in it. I never got the really big stereo, but I’m certainly not complaining about the one I ended up with.

Around 2001 I discovered World Rally. I was always a big fan of auto racing - but I always liked Indy and F1 more than Nascar because it seemed like there was some skill involved, instead of it being raw ego. Well, when I discovered rally it was like a light clicking on - these drivers raced the clock, not each other, and the goal was simply to get from point A to point B, on roads ranging from ’slightly scary’ to ‘mortal terror,’ in one piece, as fast as humanly possible. It’s an amazing combination of mechanical skill and driving chops, and it takes a whole team to get it right. On top of that, but these guys were driving cars that you could actually buy - in Europe, or Japan.

In 2003 Subaru released the Impreza WRX STi in the US for the first time. 300 horsepower, 300 ft-lbs of torque and all wheel drive in a car that cost less than $40,000. I wasn’t sure I’d get to see one, let alone get to own one. Then my friend Sigtrap said he was going to buy one. And so he did. And so I got to not only see one but got to ride in one. I told Sig that in a few years, when he was ready to upgrade, he should call me first because I’d love to buy it.

He was a man of his word, but he wanted to sell it only a couple years after getting it. And that’s bad, because I couldn’t possibly afford it, though. My friend RD could, and he jumped at the chance to have a rally-class auto. We went to Sig’s house and he grudgingly parted with it. Nobody really wants to sell a car like that. You do it out of necessity.

Some months later RD decides that he (also, grudgingly) wants to sell it, for various reasons. I, having gotten a promotion and substantial pay raise in the interim, am advised by RD of the payment cost, and realize that not only can I afford it, but it is actually within my grasp to own this car. This car, not just the type of car I have wanted since the first time I saw it, but the very same car that I first saw. In pristine condition, with almost no mileage to speak of.

It is now parked outside my house.

So even though I didn’t get the financing rates I wanted, even if I could have found a a better price (which is a huge longshot, at best) I did it. And now I get to say that I own the car that I have wanted for so many years.

Y’know, I got to live my first dream - owning my own computer shop - almost solely by accident. This dream, though, I’m taking for myself. Because I wanted to. And it feels great.

I’ve got the rest of my life to drive slow. But not right now.

If you consider yourself a movie buff go fucking see Grindhouse.

I’ll wait.

:whistles nonchalantly:

See? I told you it was fucking awesome. And you’ll see it again. And you know why? Because while we were watching stupid grossout movies and calling them ‘horror,’ while we were watching stupid unfunny schlock and calling it ‘comedy,’ while we were watching pretentious bullshit and calling it ‘drama’ QT and Rodriguez were making genuinely funny, campy, gory, completely over-the-top stuff to put the fun back into going to the movies.

And god we really fucking mist it.

For those of you out there who don’t know what it’s about: don’t read any plot summaries or reviews. I think it would have been way more fun if I hadn’t. Just go to Wikipedia and read the entry up until you get to the plot section. That’ll tell you about the genesis of the whole thing. If it sounds even slightly interesting to you, go see it. Because it’s way better than you think. Way.

I can’t remember the last time I went to a movie where the crowd got so into having fun, laughing, cheering, and even clapping at it. And this is a Twin Falls crowd. Pretty dry. I can only imagine what it must have been like to see this at the Drafthouse on opening night.

One piece of advice - be patient with Q and Death Proof. It starts out wicked crazy slow but it ends really, really, fantastically well. And Zoe Bell is hot and fucking crazy badass.

After all that bullshit we went through a few weeks back, having customers install loads of crap you don’t want or paying Microsoft thousands of dollars for updates, replacing miscellaneous electronics that didn’t work with the change, unknown numbers of phone firmwares and being perpetually cursed with manual time changes (four times a year, yay!!!) on all the older crap you own that doesn’t support the new DST settings (anybody out there besides my mom still use a VCR?) what precisely did all the new daylight savings time headaches net us?

Nothing. Zip. Zero. Bupkus. It was a complete waste of effort. A “Chinese fire drill.”

Yay congress. Way to inspire. Dumbfucks.