Aaahh, much better...
After being, admittedly, thoroughly pissy the day before, I resolved to make this day a good one, whether I liked it or not.
A complicated day at work; one in which you have to throw up your hands because nothing can be done to make it better, ended. I drive home to find LBG in the garage with an arc-welder and welder's mask on going to town like Paulie Jr. on American Chopper. Okay...maybe it was a dremmel tool and a pair of goggles, but it still looked cool. He was making some modifications to Dobra.
We stood in the garage and admired the work, while shooting the shit about bikes and, well, bikes. He then told me he was taking me over to Dallas Honda to finally get it done. Oh, yeah. 'It' was 'I' and 'I' was done. We looked at a bunch, some retro, some sporters, and I fell headlong in love with a gunmetal gray VTX 'C' 1300cc. A cruiser with a sporter look. No clutter. Very sleek. Very low. A 'lady'. Man, oh, man. Love at first sight. I haven't balanced a bike between my legs in fifteen years and this thing just felt like it was set out there for me. Very low with drag, or straight, bars that make you extend in your reach to them without hunching over at the torso. I think I just spasmed in orgasm again. Where is a towel?
That all done and it was back to the place for a much, much needed nap. You ever startle yourself awake thinking it is Monday morning and you look at the window, where it is full daylight out and you think that, oh shit, you wake up during the week when it is not just light out and oh shit you are in some world class trouble this morning, if it is even still morning? Woah. Once the bleariness subsided and I could focus on the clock and gain my bearing, all was good. Next Item: Dinner.
Dinner with LBG was Magiano's at North Park Mall, a sea of aryan geneology. Everyone blonde, built, and looking for a rich husband. Count LBG, wearing a pair of Adidas Inter soccer shorts and a DOOM III shirt, and me, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a Kevin Smith 'Clerks' Berserker shirt, out of that game. We walk in and head to the bar to order take out when I see 'her'; the cocktail who served us last time.
Me: Hey, lets get a table.
LBG: She's working as cocktail again tonight, right?
Me: Am I that transparent?
If Jamie Luner got pregnant at ten years old, or had a little sister ten years younger, this girl would be her. Woof. After paying for our fare, she gave us a warm goodbye. "Thanks for coming in, again!" Hey, she remembered us. And, AND looked over her shoulder at us as she walked away. If LBG weren't attached and I didn't suffer from chronic-poultry-syndrome (you know. Chicken), one of us would be 'in there'.
Back to the place for dinner and some cinematic ...
OOOH! Stephen King is in the stands for the Boston-St. Louis Game! Sorry for the interruption....
....crack. That which I am becoming addicted to. The Horror Flick. Exorcist III: Legion. I was literally bent over on the edge of the LayZboy with a hand over my mouth for two thirds of the film. I even screamed out the name of the son of the god who I don't even believe in. Woa.
What was planned after was some terrorist hunting on XBox, but in the conversion from DVD player to XBox, the TV displays network play briefly, and I had to scream out "WAIT! Clear and Present Danger! Change it back! Change it back!" So it was a Harrison Ford/Tom Clancy flick next. Sidenote: the F-18 that drops the smart bomb on the Cartel meeting is Stodgy's former squadron's bird, piloted by his former squadron's skipper....
Now I'm full, and pumped full of endorphins that must have been released during my fight-or-flight response to The Exorcist. Time for a nighty-night after an historic day....
Holy CRAP...Belhorn just smacked a two-run Homer in the 8th putting the Sox up 11-9...maybe beddy-bye can wait.....
A complicated day at work; one in which you have to throw up your hands because nothing can be done to make it better, ended. I drive home to find LBG in the garage with an arc-welder and welder's mask on going to town like Paulie Jr. on American Chopper. Okay...maybe it was a dremmel tool and a pair of goggles, but it still looked cool. He was making some modifications to Dobra.
We stood in the garage and admired the work, while shooting the shit about bikes and, well, bikes. He then told me he was taking me over to Dallas Honda to finally get it done. Oh, yeah. 'It' was 'I' and 'I' was done. We looked at a bunch, some retro, some sporters, and I fell headlong in love with a gunmetal gray VTX 'C' 1300cc. A cruiser with a sporter look. No clutter. Very sleek. Very low. A 'lady'. Man, oh, man. Love at first sight. I haven't balanced a bike between my legs in fifteen years and this thing just felt like it was set out there for me. Very low with drag, or straight, bars that make you extend in your reach to them without hunching over at the torso. I think I just spasmed in orgasm again. Where is a towel?
That all done and it was back to the place for a much, much needed nap. You ever startle yourself awake thinking it is Monday morning and you look at the window, where it is full daylight out and you think that, oh shit, you wake up during the week when it is not just light out and oh shit you are in some world class trouble this morning, if it is even still morning? Woah. Once the bleariness subsided and I could focus on the clock and gain my bearing, all was good. Next Item: Dinner.
Dinner with LBG was Magiano's at North Park Mall, a sea of aryan geneology. Everyone blonde, built, and looking for a rich husband. Count LBG, wearing a pair of Adidas Inter soccer shorts and a DOOM III shirt, and me, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a Kevin Smith 'Clerks' Berserker shirt, out of that game. We walk in and head to the bar to order take out when I see 'her'; the cocktail who served us last time.
Me: Hey, lets get a table.
LBG: She's working as cocktail again tonight, right?
Me: Am I that transparent?
If Jamie Luner got pregnant at ten years old, or had a little sister ten years younger, this girl would be her. Woof. After paying for our fare, she gave us a warm goodbye. "Thanks for coming in, again!" Hey, she remembered us. And, AND looked over her shoulder at us as she walked away. If LBG weren't attached and I didn't suffer from chronic-poultry-syndrome (you know. Chicken), one of us would be 'in there'.
Back to the place for dinner and some cinematic ...
OOOH! Stephen King is in the stands for the Boston-St. Louis Game! Sorry for the interruption....
....crack. That which I am becoming addicted to. The Horror Flick. Exorcist III: Legion. I was literally bent over on the edge of the LayZboy with a hand over my mouth for two thirds of the film. I even screamed out the name of the son of the god who I don't even believe in. Woa.
What was planned after was some terrorist hunting on XBox, but in the conversion from DVD player to XBox, the TV displays network play briefly, and I had to scream out "WAIT! Clear and Present Danger! Change it back! Change it back!" So it was a Harrison Ford/Tom Clancy flick next. Sidenote: the F-18 that drops the smart bomb on the Cartel meeting is Stodgy's former squadron's bird, piloted by his former squadron's skipper....
Now I'm full, and pumped full of endorphins that must have been released during my fight-or-flight response to The Exorcist. Time for a nighty-night after an historic day....
Holy CRAP...Belhorn just smacked a two-run Homer in the 8th putting the Sox up 11-9...maybe beddy-bye can wait.....
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