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My car's trunk was dented while staying at the hotel before I bought my house in St. Louis as detailed in my January 3rd entry.
Recently, I attempted to rectify this with a staff member, a computer room raised-floor puller, and a can of monitor wipes:
( Clean the affected area for good adhesion )
( Securely attach the floor-puller )
( Pull back in a smooth, even stroke )
Photoshop's mensuration plugin confirms a 40% reduction in damage:
Last night I dreamed I was driving a late 20s Grand Prix racer. British Racing Green. It was an open cockpit, and I was driving around deserted cobblestone streets, slowing down around the corners because I was sure the tall, thin tires would give out around the turns. I was driving this car because I had seen a very popular man driving it the other day, and I decided I wanted one to. I was having some mechanical problems, so I chose to exit the vehicle at the stoplight and go into a store I had seen this other man do just the day before. There were no other cars on the deserted street, so I popped the engine cover and removed the troublesome component. It was round, and had four small peaked 'vents' on it with rectangular openings. I walked into a deserted bar and a large man with a foreign accent came from a door behind the bar as if to offer me a drink. I showed him the part. "Ah, bad air conditioning unit." He says, "Just so happens (so-and-so) stopped in here just yesterday with the same problem. The part is $69. I can install it now."
I was elated.
"Total price with labor will be $569." He said, as he started around the bar to put the new part on my car.
"But I don't have $569!" I said. It was too late. He was outside putting it on. I didn't know what to do, and started to panic.
A couple of weeks ago I dreamed that Carla had painted her nails orange. The same color orange my wife wanted to paint our dining room from a paint chit she'd brought home. I forgot about this completely until today, when I saw Carla's hands. "I thought you painted your nails orange?" I asked her. You should have seen the look she gave me. Then it came flooding back. That was only a dream. Weird.
It was 100-degrees in Korea during the hottest part of the summer. Worse, the humidity was over the top. I was off one day and wanted to do my run, but it was unbearable. So I cranked up the A/C to "High" and waited until about 1600. The ambient tempature in the room was 72. Perfect. Changed into my running clothes and took off. Damn hot, damn humid. I finished my run and started heading back to the room. I had a smile on my lips as I thought of my nice, cool room - just waiting for me to return. I opened the door to my barracks room, and there was my roommate, recently returned from his work day, sitting by the open window, smoking a cigarette. "Hi." He says when I come in. It must've been 85-degrees in the room...and humid. The A/C was off. I didn't understand. "Why is the A/C off?" I asked.
"Oh, I was cold." He replied.
*Grrrrr.* "YOU WERE COLD?" I screamed! "COLD?" I started for him. "WHY DIDN'T YOU PUT ON A JACKET THEN? CAUSE I SURE AS HELL CAN'T TAKE ANYTHING ELSE OFF!" He had that rabbit-look in his eyes, as if I'd just snapped. "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm wrong. If I'm hot, I guess I could take more off." I stripped naked right in front of him and took two more steps. My schlong was right in his face. "Is this better?" I asked. I went to take a shower. When I returned to the room, the air was on and he was sitting by the window reading a book...in his jacket.
I found the car I was driving in my son's History of Auto Racing book. It was a 1930 Bentley Blower (A smaller, one seat-version anyway) and have updated the picture to reflect this.
Recently, I attempted to rectify this with a staff member, a computer room raised-floor puller, and a can of monitor wipes:
( Clean the affected area for good adhesion )
( Securely attach the floor-puller )
( Pull back in a smooth, even stroke )
Photoshop's mensuration plugin confirms a 40% reduction in damage:
Last night I dreamed I was driving a late 20s Grand Prix racer. British Racing Green. It was an open cockpit, and I was driving around deserted cobblestone streets, slowing down around the corners because I was sure the tall, thin tires would give out around the turns. I was driving this car because I had seen a very popular man driving it the other day, and I decided I wanted one to. I was having some mechanical problems, so I chose to exit the vehicle at the stoplight and go into a store I had seen this other man do just the day before. There were no other cars on the deserted street, so I popped the engine cover and removed the troublesome component. It was round, and had four small peaked 'vents' on it with rectangular openings. I walked into a deserted bar and a large man with a foreign accent came from a door behind the bar as if to offer me a drink. I showed him the part. "Ah, bad air conditioning unit." He says, "Just so happens (so-and-so) stopped in here just yesterday with the same problem. The part is $69. I can install it now."
I was elated.
"Total price with labor will be $569." He said, as he started around the bar to put the new part on my car.
"But I don't have $569!" I said. It was too late. He was outside putting it on. I didn't know what to do, and started to panic.
A couple of weeks ago I dreamed that Carla had painted her nails orange. The same color orange my wife wanted to paint our dining room from a paint chit she'd brought home. I forgot about this completely until today, when I saw Carla's hands. "I thought you painted your nails orange?" I asked her. You should have seen the look she gave me. Then it came flooding back. That was only a dream. Weird.
It was 100-degrees in Korea during the hottest part of the summer. Worse, the humidity was over the top. I was off one day and wanted to do my run, but it was unbearable. So I cranked up the A/C to "High" and waited until about 1600. The ambient tempature in the room was 72. Perfect. Changed into my running clothes and took off. Damn hot, damn humid. I finished my run and started heading back to the room. I had a smile on my lips as I thought of my nice, cool room - just waiting for me to return. I opened the door to my barracks room, and there was my roommate, recently returned from his work day, sitting by the open window, smoking a cigarette. "Hi." He says when I come in. It must've been 85-degrees in the room...and humid. The A/C was off. I didn't understand. "Why is the A/C off?" I asked.
"Oh, I was cold." He replied.
*Grrrrr.* "YOU WERE COLD?" I screamed! "COLD?" I started for him. "WHY DIDN'T YOU PUT ON A JACKET THEN? CAUSE I SURE AS HELL CAN'T TAKE ANYTHING ELSE OFF!" He had that rabbit-look in his eyes, as if I'd just snapped. "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm wrong. If I'm hot, I guess I could take more off." I stripped naked right in front of him and took two more steps. My schlong was right in his face. "Is this better?" I asked. I went to take a shower. When I returned to the room, the air was on and he was sitting by the window reading a book...in his jacket.
I found the car I was driving in my son's History of Auto Racing book. It was a 1930 Bentley Blower (A smaller, one seat-version anyway) and have updated the picture to reflect this.
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