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Girl Friday. 7/27/2007

Girl Friday. 7/20/2007

Lagging. 7/19/2007

I’ve noticed a sudden dearth of motorcycle related posts in this blog.  For someone who is supposed to be passionate about everything motorcycle, I seem to be finding myself riding less and less these days, aside from the run to and from work.  Not even very much of that, since the diesel is my prefered weapon these days for dealing with city traffic.  Not by choice mind you.  But prefered none the less.

I really need to spend more time riding.  If only for the peace of mind that it brings me.  I’m planning a little jaunt this weekend, fingers crossed etc.  A visit to place I haven’t been to in years, on a road that’s likely to be more than a little treacherous, and ready to take the unwary rider out.  Along with 3 thousand foot drops over the side into a ravine, should you find yourself and your bike on the wrong side of understeer.

It’s going to be another small group again.  The participants will be me, Grant, and a Girl Friday.  Yes, the Girl Friday will be riding her own machine.  No, I’m not telling you where we’re going.  It’ll be this Girl Friday’s first ride in a group, so we’ll be patient with her.

The hills are alive. 7/17/2007

Have you ever wondered where and how yodeling began?

Many years ago a man was travelling through the mountains of Switzerland. Nightfall was rapidly approaching and he had nowhere to sleep. He went up to a farmhouse and asked the farmer if he could spend the night. The farmer told him that he could sleep in the barn.

As the story goes, the farmer’s daughter asked her father, “Who is that man going into the barn?”

“That fellow is travelling through,” said the farmer. “Needs a place to stay for the night, so, I told him he could sleep in the barn.”

The daughter said, “Perhaps he is hungry.” So she prepared him a plate of food for him and then took it out to the barn.

About an hour later, the daughter returned. Her clothing disheveled and straw in her hair. Straight up to bed she went.

The farmer’s wife was very observant. She then suggested that perhaps the man was thirsty. So she fetched a bottle of wine, took it out to the barn, And she too did not return for an hour. Her clothing was askew, her blouse buttoned incorrectly. She also headed straight to bed.

The next morning at sunrise the man in the barn got up and continued on his journey, waving to the Farmer as he left. When the daughter awoke and learned that the Visitor was gone, she broke into tears. “How could He leave without even saying goodbye,” she cried. “We made such passionate love last night!”

“What?” shouted the father as he angrily ran out of the house looking for the man, who by now was Halfway up the mountain. The farmer screamed up at him, “I’m going to get you! You had sex with my daughter!”

The man looked back down from the mountainside, cupped his hand next to his mouth, and yelled out…..


Autobots, transform! 7/15/2007

I went to watch “Transformers” yesterday.

Was it good? Yes and no.

The CGI was nicely done, and watching the transformation sequences was nice. The “money shot” where the Autobots posed in a group after their transformation was poster worthy. And I almost clapped and cheered when Optimus Prime made his transformation. Bumblebee as a Camaro instead of a VW Beetle was excellent.

But there was no character development. The cartoon series from 25 years ago was way more engrossing than this movie. And the focus on the humans, and the whole “Sam Witwicky is a loser” thing had way too much time wasted on it.

I mean, when I watch a Transformers movie, I want to see Transformers, dammit. Who gives a flying toss about the humans? Humans are weak and disgusting. “You care for what happens to them, Optimus Prime, and that is what makes you weak.” No that is not a line from the movie, although it should have been.

I confess to having been old enough to have watched the entire Transformers thing from the beginning. And not as a wide eyed 6 year old either. I encountered my first Transformer as a toy being held in the hands of a 3 year old being baby-sat by my riding buddy’s mother. This would have been in the very early 80’s, and it was very probably the first Tranformer in the country. He asked me if I had ever seen one of these things before, and we grabbed it from the kid, ignoring his screams and wails of protest, and spent the best part of a half hour transforming this thing.

I can’t for the life of me remember the name of it now, but I was utterly fascinated by the way it folded together and into itself. My younger cousins, a few years later, were utterly Transformers mad, and I watched along with them. And I grew to enjoy the stories, and the characters, although you could never have called me a hard core fan.

So sitting in the movie theatre yesterday afternoon, large box of popcorn in my lap, I enjoyed revisiting some of my memories of 20 years ago, of lying on a carpet in my uncle’s home on a Sunday morning, with my cousins on either side of me, eyes glued to the idiot box, watching Optimus Prime and Megatron slug it out.

What wasn’t so funny was me sitting in the theatre yesterday, laughing aloud at some of the old Transformer’s in jokes, and other cameos, and then realising I was the only person in the theatre who got it. Which was strange, because some of the other parents in the theatre were definitely my age, or a little younger, and I would have thought they would get some of the jokes. But no, they didn’t, like the one where Bumblebee, in his Camaro guise, was sitting next to a Volkswagen Beetle in the used car lot. I laughed at that one, when they showed the shot, and people looked at me a little weird. They all laughed at the part where Bumblebee shoves the Beetle aside though. I guess slapstick works better instead of subtlety where humour and local audiences are concerned.

In the meantime, I’ll be waiting for the DVD of the movie to make it’s appearance. This will be one show I’ll be watching again, not for the story, but for the characters.

“Autobots, roll out!”

Girl Friday. 7/13/2007

On the carpet. 7/10/2007

We were walking down the street after lunch, sometime last week, when something in a store window caught our eye. It was a shop selling Turkish carpets, and on display was a rug, shaped like a snail. A shop assistant came out, and asked if we were interested in buying carpets. I pointed to the rug, and asked how much it was. He looked at us, and said, “$100″. I turned to someone to get their opinion and it was agreed we should get the rug.

We walked into the shop, and asked if they had any other rugs of the same type to show, and the shop guy said he did. He spoke to his colleague, and more rugs were brought out for our perusal. Someone asked,

“How much if we buy two?”

The second shop assistant, who had brought out the rugs, replied,

“$100 for two.”

We looked and each other, turned to the second shop guy, and simultaneously said “done.”

The first shop assistant, who had spoken to us outside the carpet shop, suddenly let loose a string of Turkish at his colleague, possibly along the lines of,

“I told them it was $100 each you fuckhead. Now, look what you’ve done!”

The second guy looked a little sheepish, and was about to say something when someone pointed her finger upwards and said, “You said it, $100 for two, no turning back.”

First and second shop guys looked in her face, and wisely decided not to argue. They shrugged their shoulders, laughed at each other, and said, “OK. OK.”

We looked at each other again and laughed, and bought 3 rugs.

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