Get Your Heart On

Hey people. It may be Valentine's Day weekend, but it's also Fav Music Friday, so buckle-up.

Take a good look at me now, because after March 7th my face will have been rocked the eff off. In yet another futile bid for my affections, Dan Auerbach (of the Black Keys) has booked a show at 1st Ave in Minneapolis.

Some of you know our history-- how he has this obsession with me. I keep telling him I already have a Dan at home. But-- Can't blame a guy for trying I guess. You know I'll always love you honey, but we have to be just friends. (sniff) (That was him.)

Speaking of imaginary almost boyfriends, my pretend ex, Dave, stars in today's video feature.

He has selfishly disabled the embedding, so you have to click HERE. This is one of the sexiest videos I've ever seen yo. TMI to be sure, but Dan has benefited greatly from this vid. If I was that girl I'd be on that glass like a mofo. I'd figure out some way to squeeze through that little vent thing. I wish you wuz on my back dude. Check :41 where he's grinning goofily for just a spit second. Oh Dave. You big goofball. He is still smokin' hot (Grammy performance eval-- grinning wildly while drumming his ass off for Paul friggin' McCarney-- yay! While wearing a shirt-- boo!). We broke up though because I kept beating him at ping pong and he just couldn't handle it. We're still good friends though. (He'd still be way into it if not for his new family man life.)

In RL, Dan and I don't really do V-Day so much. I used to go with a guy who was super into buying me stuff-- flowers constantly, fancy dinners, clothes (he like to try to gussy me up), but it was really kind of ick because it was mostly about his ego. I never was a roses girl.

When Dan and I hooked up, he made a feeble stab at the traditional guy gift fiasco, but always pretty much sucked at the "romantic" stuff. We girls are pretty pre-programmed to believe the entire relationship hinges on these pivotal calendar days where the guy is supposed to miraculously become intuitive and sensitive and find the perfect way to express his deep love for us through the selection of a gift. Bonus points if this gift took some kind of huge effort on his part.

This is bull ladies. Guys aren't wired this way really. Some try, and some are better at this stuff than others, but it's not the yardstick you should measure your relationship by.

Dan sucks at picking out gifts, but his cards-- now usually embellished with a handwritten note just plain old telling me he loves me and how much he digs our life together-- are awesome. He shows his love in other ways, scraping my windshield and building my shop, and letting me do my thing unhindered, and chasing me around with a flashlight for a while before we totally make-out-- oh, sorry. I ventured into TMI-land again.

Have a good weekend. Try to shake something at some point. If you're not with anyone, love yourself up. Take that however you want. (Man you people are freaks.) ~~hug from me~~

New Gear - Plus, burnin' it down, not in the good way.

Yeah, it was totally time for new boots. All of a sudden they just kind of self-destructed. I usually wind up getting guy's pac boots because I can pick up 7's on clearance and they just seem sturdier. When I'm slogging through slushy parking lots I don't want to have to worry about my boots getting wet or dirty. Plus, if a crime wave breaks out, I have to be ready for action.

Also time for new work gloves. Believe it or not I normally wouldn't replace these yet, but would dig through my stash of already trashed gloves and cut off fingers etc and keep Frankensteining them until they basically blow apart. When I moved into the shop Dan thought my stash was just a pile of garbage-- (huff) and threw it away. So I got new ones. Leather gloves always gross me out and these are deerskin. That really icks me out. I like to think of deer frolicking and being licked by their mommies, not getting skinned, but that's what the store had this time of year.

In other Sue news-- I almost burned down my new shop today. Yeah. Dan had put rags under the legs of the workbenches so the painted floor wouldn't get scratched while we moved stuff around. Last weekend I was like, "We need to get these rags out of here." But then we didn't, and today one started on fire.

I was welding on the SuckWOW and I smelled something burning. I looked around but didn't see anything, so went back to work. Then a couple minutes later I was like, "Ok, NOT my imagination." Right away I checked my pants because, seriously, I once had a pants fire. My whole frigging leg was ablaze before I noticed. By the time I found the burning rag under the workbench the flames were like a foot high! It was basically a bolt of fabric so there was a lot of fuel.

I poured diet coke and vinegar and water and any other liquid I could get my hands on it as I pawed at it with my hands and tried to stomp it out. My new nifty boots were too big to fit under there and it wasn't going out easy. I finally got enough of it out that I could grab it and yank it out and throw it outside. Now Dan's lovely floor has a big burn mark on it.

After, I basically had a total meltdown. My first shop burned down while I was working in it (woodstove). I'll never forget looking up at the ceiling where the fire started around the chimney and watching the fire extinguisher stuff almost making it up there before arcing pathetically to the floor. I hauled my welders out into the snow and as much other stuff as I could, but watched it burn to the ground before the fire dept showed up.

I haven't thought about it for a long time, but after the close call today I pretty much freaked out and even started crying a tiny, tiny bit before telling myself to quit being such a big baby and get back in there and clean up. Drama right? Well, it is what it is sometimes. When I came in tonight I looked like I had two BLACK eyes from rubbing them with my dirty and charred new gloves. Very Alice Cooper.

Tomorrow has got to be a better day yo.

Weird Wed-- I'm Pretty Sure My Cat Ray Is Trying To Kill Me

Hey people-- Some of you know Ray as the spotty member of our little clan. Sure, he's friendly, attractive-- but don't let his good looks fool you. He's a loaded gun people, pointed right at me! Recently he's been shamelessly flaunting his super cuteness at me. It's a little known fact that this releases toxic levels of potentially deadly cutosterone in my body. (I read about this on the internet, so it has to be true.)

Lately he's taken to leaping into the middle of the room, blinking his adorable Rikki Tikki Tavi eyes at me and clawing ferociously at the carpet. When I point at him and sternly shout, "Naughty!", he flops over sideways and whips his head playfully around at me.

I should turn him in to F U Penguin (see blogroll). Those guys would tear him a new one, but I just can't. (~hugs self~) I'm already too far gone. The cutosterone has already begun to take effect. I now pronounce his name, "WraaAAaaayyy" in an animated kitty lurve voice.
Ray is an evil fuzzy genius yo.

Speaking of geniuses-- thanks for your help figuring out the SuckWOW-- especially Rich (also known as cool trail boss Rich). It is much more sucky and I'm in the fancying it up phase of development, adding cubbies under the top to hold tools, chalk etc, cool holsters for my welding and cutting guns, and of course, cup holders. Mama needs her Diet Coke.

There were some rather technical emails that went back and forth about stuff like "flow rates" and "ratios" and "cubic feet of air" which made this flash across my brain--
But, between everyone's advice, and my weird talent for eyeballing stuff up correctly and making intuitive guesses based on no hard facts what so ever (or math of any kind, or, you know, science)-- I'm confident the SuckWOW will be a success! I'll put up pix when it's really done.

So, last skip day Linda and I went to Buffalo. Last time we were there one place had this awesome red sofa and chair. The pic doesn't-- couldn't possibly-- capture the entirety of it's sheer awesomeness. It was actually made of 90% awesome. It had some kind of innerspring construction that floated the seat cushions independent of the frame. So it was kind of like sitting on a firm water bed. Also-- it's red people. Plus, each arm had it's own ashtray. Call the effing Rat Pack, or maybe Keith Richards. Someone wound up picking up both the sofa and chair for $250! I wish I knew them so I could get invited over to their wreck room and do the twist in my gold pants holding a martini in one hand.
(As always Linda is the coolest model ever pretending to smoke at my insistence.) (Her arm was in a cast, all better now.)

Ok Freaks. Creepy doll time. Today's are examples of "dolls that could star in their own horror flicks". They are totally phantasmic and it would not surprise me one bit to learn they come to life and walk slowly and creepily around at night, staring sightlessly down at their sleeping housemates, but then again, I write ghost stories.

"Oooo0000oooooooo..."

Have a good one people. Keep an eye on your pets. Don't get cutosterone poisoning.

SuckWOW = not enough suck, or WOW so far...

Ok people, I'm tapping into your giant brains (and the brains of any dad's, grandpa's, nerds, welders, farm grrls, and other resourceful inventy types you forward this to :D ). I'm in the final stages of inventing the SuckWOW, but so far it's conspicuously lacking in WOW.

Click on the diagram below for bigger, better, sketch viewing.

The air conditions in my shop are way better than they were using the "crack a door and a window method". I no longer taste all the gross welding crap in the back of my throat all day, and, not to be too gross, but my Kleenex's are less black. But still.

I thought with the giant furnace fan encased in my work bench, and my inflow vent right at my work area, and what with the little vent slot I cut into the top-- the SuckWOW would be practically sucking my helmet off-- but no. There seems to be very little suction going in, even though there is plenty of air blowing out of the building. And when I'm welding and cutting you can still see fumes billowing up to the ceiling. Less, fumes, but, fumes = bad.

Tomorrow I'm going to seal up any possible air leaks around the bench. There are some places where there are gaps or holes in the steel sheathing etc, and I'm going to redesign the top so the vent "hole" is raised right up to the level of the bench top. Currently it's about 6 inches below the catwalk grating I use for my top and there's open space all around the perimeter (it's sitting on spacers).

Sorry this is so boring and techy. If anyone has any ideas I'd appreciate advice.

In other Sue news-- Today was SO awesome! I hope everyone got to go play outside for a while. I had my best run in a super long time at the mountain bike trail. Last weekend when I was over there I was running around and my dumb tibia was hurting, so I was kind of gimping along trying not to be a baby, but also not break it any more and all of a sudden I felt this thing clamp down on my leg-- just as I was thinking about it too! Needless to say I almost poo'd my pants, because there was this big dog "pretending" to bite me. He was just running around loose!

He was only kidding around because he didn't really exert any pressure, and then kind of grinned and romped around. He had some people way down the hill from me (walkers), but kind of ran around with me for most of the way. (I was more fun. He confided in me.) It was funny because I usually run in my kitty hat, so it kind of was like a dog chasing a person, dressed as a cat... I felt a little cartoony.

Anyway, my leg started to feel better as I went along, (which happens a lot-- endorphins) but I started thinking, "what if this is some kind of magical dog of healing?" Who knows? ???

Today's run was totally perfect. Great weather, ultimate trail conditions, friendly riders, easy running, my iPod was playing only good songs (foos, weezer, stripes, brad sucks, spoon, joan jett, beck). Just great. Now tomorrow I hope they're wrong about us getting a bunch of sucky freezing rain. Wreckage. Boo.

If they are wrong I'm going back for another helping. ~running high~

Help if you can with the SuckWOW. Thanks.

Skipping Is Rad, Oh, And Step Off Psychotic Stalkers!

Hey people. Be cool, DO NOT call attention to us, but, me and Linda are totally skipping today. SHHHH! I said be cool people! Do not make me come over there and glare menacingly at you with my black eyeliner and flick butts at you. (Well, truthfully, those days are over, but still...) (~glare~)

We're both supposed to be working, but are taking off for Buffalo-- A quaint, antiquey, small town that manages, in our demented hands, to become a hot-bed of disturbia every couple of months. We unearth its underlying subversive creepiness. Believe me, even if it's completely normal-- that-- its essential normality-- will become disturbingly bizarre (and usually hilarious) to us. Good times.

Also, a note to all you "possibly psychotic internet weirdos" (yes-- that's a direct quote) out there who frequent mah blog-- my parents are totally on to you man. They have expressed their concern about me being so "out there", and are keeping their eye on you-- general public. I guess they don't actually read my blog often enough to know about my Gold Pants Super Hero Crime Fighting Force, renowned hands of fury, or the fact that I point out places you may "relentlessly stalk me" right in my headlines.

In case any actual psychos out there are contemplating stalking me, you know, not in a good way, just take heed-- I live in an undisclosed location (meaning if you found me it's possible dick Chaney may try to blow your face off-- maybe, if he's not busy), and am guarded 24-7 by a pack of ravenous cats. Also, Trusty Pam is frequently nearby and, as previously stated, has amazing strength. There are also my work gloves which increase my own strength ten-fold, plus, you know, my parents. I don't think you want to tangle with a man who has endured 31 shots in the man-ha and lived to tell about it. And my mom has always been pretty scary when she wants to be. So, Don't say i didn't warn you.

31 Shots In The Man-Ha.

Hey people.
First of all-- what am I talking about right? For you non medical personnel: man-has are to dudes what girl-nads are to chix. I know that sounded vaguely math-y, but don't be frightened.

This is a rare public service announcement. Dudes-- I know you hate going to the doctor, and I typically ascribe the the "if it ain't broke don't fix it" doctrine, but-- especially once you hit say, your forties-- go. Go and do that turn your head and cough thing because if you get prostate cancer you want it caught before the stage where they have to give you 31 shots in your man-ha.

My dad is going to be fine they say, but it's been a pretty sucky winter for him. His humor remains in tact, but it's been tough. Yesterday was a nightmare-- the 31 shots, having to go back to the hospital last night to get catheterized (twice-- bonus pain), not to mention suffering the indignity of numerous strangers checking out his junk. He was still cracking jokes even from the emergency room. "I'll tell you one thing-- if I slide down any banisters tomorrow, they're going to be made of ice."

We also made jokes about bronco busting, bike riding, poorly designed saddles, peeing and the whole harrowing experience possibly being an elaborate ruse on his part to obtain fancy rubber soled hospital socks. But it seriously sucked for him.

He should be home now, but I'm guessing the fun will continue for the next couple of days dealing with the cath. Hopefully they'll be able to take it out tomorrow or the next day.

So-- don't let this happen to you. Dudes-- get your junk checked out. Ladies-- get your guy's junk checked out. Nuff said.

SUCKWOW

You heard it here first people. I'm inventing something today that could make me eleventies of millions of dollars. I'm turning my actual workbench into a giant air sucking mosheen. It's going to have the capability to suck fumes from the surface (which is made of catwalk grating) and from a detachable vent hose in the front for working out in the center of the room.

This will suck all the smelly, unhealthy air and metal dust out of my shop. Yep, that's right, my invention is healthy. My invention could SAVE LIVES. I won't bore you with further technical details but suffice to say-- take that SHAMWOW.

Have you ever saved anyone's life shamwow? -- Yeah, I didn't think so.

Yesterday I watched the game with Dan. If you don't know what I'm talking about-- too bad, you won't care about this so just skip ahead.

I'm really good at football watching now. i know all the rules and everything. It makes it more fun for Dan. Just one little snaffoo. I have a tendency to nickname stuff (people too, just a habit, probably from having a one syllable name) but I nicknamed "stiff arms" "stiffies", and he didn't like that. "Give that guy a stiffie! Run!" was my one cheering fail.

To make it more fun for me, (because we don't pretend I'm into football for any other reason than to provide Dan with that enthusiastic crowd atmosphere that helps him enjoy it more), he gave me a calf massage and made us cookies at half time. All in all, not a bad game.

The writing is going really good right now. I went through a total crisis last week, of identity but also confidence. Another weird thing happened too. Someday I'll do a post of all the other weird cosmic things surrounding this story-- this is only one. A really good friend from high school I haven't talked to since 11th grade found me on the internet-o-sphere. We caught up a little, and it turns out she taught fiction editing when she was in grad school-- and she said she'd beta my story! Cool huh? Now I have 4 good betas. (people who agree to read your draft and tell you what they think).

I also think I'm getting over myself as far as my writing goes. People are supposed to forget, as the author, that you're there telling the story. the story and characters are supposed to do that. Intellectually I've always known this, but I have to admit, i think my ego was a little reluctant to get the eff off the stage. I'm getting rid of lots of dross. It'll be way better.

Ok, this is too long, so the giant cat pot party and magical dog of healing stories will have to wait for another day.

EDIT TO ADD: Being an inventor runs in our family. My seestah invented the nose-pon for those days when it's simply impossible to expel all the mucus from your sinuses by ordinary blowing. (Think-- "stop the flow", and picture her with wads of tissue sticking out of her nostrils.) I think she got the idea from that Breath Right ad where the guy goes, "and then I thought-- hey-- outside the nose not in!" But she took it the complete opposite direction.