11/5/08

Here I was worrying about a Zombie Apocalypse when I should have been more concerned with the upcoming Obacalypse! I'm reminded of the quote, “Where are we going, and why are we in this hand basket?” It pisses me off so much I'm just going to stop talking about it. So, when I left off the story yesterday, I was leaving the range to go get Shichi for the Old School Japanese car thingy. I pulled up to the shop and took the guns inside to wipe them down. It was there that I noticed how my elbow hurt every time I held the Judge at arm’s length to aim. It doesn’t seem to be all that heavy of a gun, but at arm’s length it does put a bit of strain on the muscles and ligaments. I still like it, a lot! I didn’t have my cleaning kit with me so I couldn’t actually clean the weapons, but I did get most of the external residue off. I put them back in the hatch of Darth Versa and began getting Shichi ready to go. I reinstalled the bonnet, removed the shower caps from the carburetors, and fired it up. I rolled it out and changed shoes then closed the door and got in. It was after sitting down in the driver's seat that I remembered the hood props I had built were sitting in a bag on the floor of the shop. I was not about to get out, open the door, get the things, load them in the car, close the door, and get back in the car. I'm far too lazy. I took off for the show instead. I was very early. I sat in the car for about five minutes when John arrived in the dude’s 510. He’d spent the afternoon washing and waxing it and it looked really good. He pulled into the spot next to me and we waited for more arrivals. Only one other showed up, the dude with the first generation MR-2. We all hung out by the cars for a while then went inside to eat. We had the same waitress as before. She’s cute and all but I still prefer the mousey brunette we had the first time. Oh well, what are you going to do? So we ate and then called it an evening. John followed me to the shop and opened the door for me. I really appreciate that as parking Shichi is the worst part of taking it out for a hoon. We closed up and I hopped in Darth Versa to follow him to 510 dude’s house so he could drop off the car. He got in with me and I took him home. I showed him the Judge and the ZAM (Zombie Apocalypse Magazine for those with short attention spans). We called it an evening and I headed home. Now, every time I head home from John’s I'm tempted to stop in at New Orleans Nights, a strip club along the way. I mean EVERY time. This time I knew I was carrying way too much cash to go there. I made sure I was in the far left lane when approaching the exit. Fortunately, there was construction at that point and the freeway was choked down to one lane, the far left. Kind of like the upcoming presidency. Anyhoo, I made it home and snuck the guns into the house and up to my room. I'm not sure how mom is going to react to them but I do not want to find out too soon. Yeah, shut up. I'm forty-three and worried about my mom’s opinion on guns in the house. Big deal. I give her the remains of the money, what I hadn’t spent on ammo, clips, slide releases, range fees, dinner, and whatever else I wasted cash on that day, to offset some of the money I owe her for… well, stuff. None a yer dang binness, actually. I don’t even turn on the TV and call it a night immediately. Which brings us up to Monday morning and up to speed on my life. I guess I'm going to call it a rant with that. Have a day.