NASCAR SCALE MODEL REPLICA HOLDER.
I fully intended to post lots of pictures and ideas and exciting things, but I kind of lost track of time. As usual, I've got my plate loaded.
The house, I should have taken a ton of pictures by now, but it doesn't quite feel ready to display. Due to the tight timing of getting out of our old apartment, Kim and I didn't have a chance to paint or do anything -- we literally got the key and moved in. Plus, we haven't even hung anything on the walls yet. I can't be displaying a bare walled house, it's simply improper. I mean, seriously, who wants to show off a fucking green-and-purple-with-flower-border office? Not I.
Moving was an adventure. I took a day off work and Kim and I powerlifted everything we own. We rented a big U-Haul and drove across town a few times. I really, really, really despise moving. At least this new house doesn't have any stairs. That's a big plus.
Okay. I lied. I just had to show this shit off. Terrible! Something must be done, post haste.
But yeah, homeownership is good stuff. It's much more quiet and private than the apartment. I play music Michael Jackson loud at night and don't give a fuck. Kim and I yell across the house for fun. I exercise my Big Muff. Yee-haw.
I had to buy a lawnmower. And a dryer. Kim bought the washer. We're the best team ever.
Having a mortgage makes me miss the days of $225 a month.
In other events, last weekend, I went dirtbiking with two of my coworkers. They sold me on it, so I drove my ass out to Camas, Washington bright and early on Sunday and suited up for a day of motorcycle riding. As we drove up a narrow access road, deep in the hills, pulling a trailer loaded with three sizable bikes, I questioned if I had made a mistake. We arrive at a big parking lot, loaded with trailer-truck combos. We park and unload the bikes.
I don't have much motorcycle experience at all. I rode a bike a few times when I was 15 or so, but I was drunk at the time, so it doesn't count. Anyway, I do remember the basic mechanics (braking, shifting, gassing, holding on), but am a bit clumsy on putting it all together. The guys let me ride around for a sec, then they force me to hit the trails. It was only mostly terrifying. This shit was out of control. These narrow, rutted trails wound back and forth around the terrain. Climbing monstrous inclines and littered with head-sized rocks, we sped along.
I didn't want to look like a casper milktoast or any shit like that, so I really tried hard to keep up. My mid-forties coworker was tearing shit up like it was RAD, but I was just trying to stay alive. Eventually, I got a bit more confident and we ended up tearing shit up for a good part of the day. I only ate shit a few times, and most of them were done trying to do badass things, so it cancels out.
On the whole, it was a ton of fun, but that shit is so ridiculously dangerous. I also realized that of all subcultures, I think the atv squad takes the cake for my least favourite. Don't get me wrong, I really have nothing against them, but everything about the hobby, from the fashion to the vehicles to the enthusiasts seem so loud, tasteless and over the top. Only slightly unrelated, I once saw a jacked up truck, the bed loaded with motorcycles, towing a boat packed with bicycles. I know I'm making huge generalizations, but fuck it, I paint with broad strokes -- Fuck anyone who owns more than 8 modes of transportation. Okay, rant over.
Beyond houses and motorcycles, I've been programming a lot. I recently got sold (big time) on a PHP framework called Symfony. It's an amazing tool. I am currently reworking my portfolio site as a testbed for figuring out how things work, then, it's on to bigger and better things. Exciting things.
I'll leave you with something I stumbled upon while looking for a picture of the A-frizzle. It's a photo of the parking lot at my parent's residence. It made me smile.
Much love. Hopefully I'll get some pix.