Moonshine
04-12-2002, 01:17 PM
Well, for those of you who are really bored, or enjoy a chuckle at someone else's expense, or need proof that Terry C. really is a decent guy, I offer the following two situations which have convinced me that I am truly a dumbass, hereafter referred to as DA.
Situation # 1 - About a year ago DA decides he needs some place handy in the L. to keep his cell phone, so he purchases a small clip which can be affixed to any flat surface. Yes, the package states that it becomes permanent after 72 hours, but it's only double sided tape, so how tough can it possibly be to remove, right? So DA affixes the cell phone clip to the lower dash between the cigarette lighter door and the cup holder door, and life is good. Fast forward about a year and our bud Logan is expecting the impending arrival of a couple small Loganette's, so he decides to part with his L., and sell off his mods. Logan offers up his way cool bucket seat/center console conversion at a ridiculously low price, and DA, in a decidedly undumbassed moment, jumps on the deal. Shortly thereafter the swap is completed, DA now has the way cool bucket seat/center console setup, and life is good. Well, not being capable of leaving well enough alone, after a few days with said way cool console DA decides he no longer needs the cell phone clip on the dash, since he now has an abundance of nooks, crannys, and cubbyholes in his way cool console. Besides, it's only double sided tape, so how tough can it possibly be, right? Having made this dumbassed decision DA proceeds to grunt, strain, curse, pry, and twist until that &^%$#@($ cell phone clip flys off with almost enough force to shatter the back window. Well, at least it's off, right? Only problem is that when this world class double sided tape finally let go it took a tiny bit of the gray color off the lower dash with it, leaving a 1/8" round black defect in the lower dash. Unfortunately, in addition to being a dumbass, DA is also something of a compulsive perfectionist, so after a few days he decides that this imperfection simply must go. Not a problem, right? Call brother Terry C., and ask him to bring the vinyl color match to the TALON meeting so DA can re-spray the lower dash with the same color match he previously borrowed to color match the pillar pod for his boost gauge. Terry C. kindly obliges, and life is good. Yes, I know you're now saying wait, tilt, the A pillar and the lower dash are clearly, unmistakably, obviously very different shades of gray, you dumbass! And you're absolutely right, but DA ignores all the obvious, and proceeds to spray the lower dash with the much lighter A-pillar gray vinyl color match. Well, DA rapidly discovers his mistake as a 1" by 2" swath of light gray appears on the lower dash, now covering what was a miniscule 1/8" imperfection. DA, the dumbass, grabs a paper towel in a pathetic attempt to wipe the light gray off, smearing it into a 2" by 3" mess. DA's wife has made her semi-annual appearance in the garage and is watching the "progress" when she suddenly volunteers "fingernail polish remover!" and runs to fetch it. DA, at least being a consistent dumbass, goes for this advice, and uses the fingernail polish remover, which does in fact remove the too light mess. Along with all the color, so now DA has a 2.5" by 3.5" spot with no color at all, allowing the basic black plastic to show through. Life is decidedly not good. Well, DA proceeds to call brother T., explain his fax paus, and ask if perhaps brother Terry might possibly have some vinyl color match in the proper, darker shade of gray of the lower dash. T. refrains from laughing, and says no, but he will check into it and see if he can locate some in the proper shade of gray. Once again, our dumbassed DA can't leave well enough alone, so a few days later he's at the local auto parts store when he spots some "medium gray" vinyl color match. He buys, he returns home, and he holds the cap up next to the lower dash. Looks right, but he's now just a bit of a skeptic, so he test sprays a hunk of cardboard, allows it to dry, and then holds it up next to the lower dash. All looks good. Oh, did I forget to mention that DA is doing all this last weekend during the flood, so he's inside the garage, under fluorescent lights, with no natural light illuminating the subject? So, DA proceeds to mask everything off, spray merrily away, and obliterate his mess. Life is good, well, at least until two days later when the sun finally reappears, and DA discovers that he's still about two shades off, which is painfully obvious thanks to the masking lines. A few more days pass, DA goes out for lunch and discovers he has a voice mail from brother Terry. Brother T.'s voice mail indicates he's located the proper charcoal gray shade of color match, he's special ordered it, he will pick it up later the same day, and if he's not too busy he'll swing by DA's work and deliver it to the back of DA's poor abused L. OK sports fans, Terry may be the local Brembo brake whipping boy, but even a dumbass like DA can see that brother T. has gone way beyond the call of duty to assist a fellow L. owner. Life is good. DA proceeds to lunch, plunks some chow in his dumbassed belly, and returns to a long and very busy afternoon, promptly forgetting all about the voice mail from brother T. DA finally escapes the office, hops in the L., and drives home, wondering all the time what in hell he keeps hearing rattling in the bed of the L., and never once remembering the obvious. DA stops for gas near the house, and upon his return to the L. discovers the charcoal gray color match, and life is good. A few hours later a bit of masking, spraying, and double checking in full daylight are complete, and DA's poor L. is back in pristine shape, with all vinyl surfaces in their proper shades. Life is finally truly good, but only thanks to brother T., and in spite of this dumbassed guy DA.
For those of you who are not yet fully convinced that DA is in fact a bona fide dumbass, we'll now proceed to situation #2, which takes place but mere moments after the first dumbassed mess is finally rectified.
Situation #2 - As some of you know, DA has the good fortune to live on a small piece of land, and has a stock tank a few hundred yards from the house. Being a basic gadget, car buff, there's no such thing as too much horsepower kinda guy (insert Tool Time grunt here), DA recently acquired a brand spankin new, top of the line, all the bells and whistles Kawasaki Prarie 650 ATV. Consider it the L. of the ATV world. In addition to his other faults, DA is way too easily amused, so the dumbass often decompresses from a day at the office by riding the Prarie down to the tank, sitting there while the sun sets, and shooting any turtles unwise enough to poke their snouts above the surface. Speaking of turtles, they are surprisingly nomadic creatures. DA can eradicate all the turtles in his tank, and life will be good for a month or so, and then suddenly there will be four or five new, fully mature turtles that just appear one day. Other neighbors have similar stock tanks, but the closest is nearly 400 yards away. What's the deal with these turtles? Do they hang out in neighbor A's tank for awhile, then suddenly decide they can't spend another night staring at the same speck of mud, so let's go check out DA's tank? I don't get it, but I digress, as dumbasses are wont to do. At any rate, the plan is supposed to work something like this. DA rides the Prarie to the tank, parks on the back slope of the tank dam to minimize his silhouette, and waits for any unwary turtles to appear. When they do, DA slithers off the saddle, plunks his dumb ass on the Prarie floorboard, braces his left arm on the front fender for a steady shot, and then proceeds to bust said unwary turtle with a .22 Magnum. Yesterday everything started out according to plan, but wiser readers will note that with the ATV parked on the back slope of the tank it's sitting pretty nose high. Yeah, I know, you can see where this is going, but then you're not a dumbass. At any rate, after obtaining a good sight picture through the scope DA touches off the first round. Well, the rifle fires, but to no apparent effect. There's no slap as the bullet strikes turtle snout, no splash as the bullet hits the water, nothing. Well, being a dumbass, DA fires a second shot, with similar results. Proving his dumbassedness DA tries a third shot, same results, before finally deciding that something truly is not right here. Finally, DA removes his eye from the scope to take in a slightly larger view of the world, and is struck by the flower petal sculpture he's made of the front rack/upper bumper on the Prarie by blasting not one, not two, but three shots through it from the distance of about 1". To redeem what little pride he has left, DA then leans out, around the fender, and proceeds to bust Mr. Turtle in the snout, if only to stop the turtle from continuing to laugh his ass off at the dumbass on the bank. This is apparently fate's revenge on DA, who mercilessly ridiculed a neighbor for putting two rifle shots through the passenger mirror of his Chevy pickup whilst trying to bust a coyote from the driver's seat. Hey, at least neighbor only took two shots to discover his mistake. So now our dumbassed DA has his next repair project all lined up.
Based on the events of the past few weeks, it has become apparent to me that I'm truly a dumbass. Unfortunately, my condition may be contagious. If you have so little life, so little to do, or are so easily amused that you've read through all of the foregoing, they you too may be showing sign of becoming a dumbass.
Situation # 1 - About a year ago DA decides he needs some place handy in the L. to keep his cell phone, so he purchases a small clip which can be affixed to any flat surface. Yes, the package states that it becomes permanent after 72 hours, but it's only double sided tape, so how tough can it possibly be to remove, right? So DA affixes the cell phone clip to the lower dash between the cigarette lighter door and the cup holder door, and life is good. Fast forward about a year and our bud Logan is expecting the impending arrival of a couple small Loganette's, so he decides to part with his L., and sell off his mods. Logan offers up his way cool bucket seat/center console conversion at a ridiculously low price, and DA, in a decidedly undumbassed moment, jumps on the deal. Shortly thereafter the swap is completed, DA now has the way cool bucket seat/center console setup, and life is good. Well, not being capable of leaving well enough alone, after a few days with said way cool console DA decides he no longer needs the cell phone clip on the dash, since he now has an abundance of nooks, crannys, and cubbyholes in his way cool console. Besides, it's only double sided tape, so how tough can it possibly be, right? Having made this dumbassed decision DA proceeds to grunt, strain, curse, pry, and twist until that &^%$#@($ cell phone clip flys off with almost enough force to shatter the back window. Well, at least it's off, right? Only problem is that when this world class double sided tape finally let go it took a tiny bit of the gray color off the lower dash with it, leaving a 1/8" round black defect in the lower dash. Unfortunately, in addition to being a dumbass, DA is also something of a compulsive perfectionist, so after a few days he decides that this imperfection simply must go. Not a problem, right? Call brother Terry C., and ask him to bring the vinyl color match to the TALON meeting so DA can re-spray the lower dash with the same color match he previously borrowed to color match the pillar pod for his boost gauge. Terry C. kindly obliges, and life is good. Yes, I know you're now saying wait, tilt, the A pillar and the lower dash are clearly, unmistakably, obviously very different shades of gray, you dumbass! And you're absolutely right, but DA ignores all the obvious, and proceeds to spray the lower dash with the much lighter A-pillar gray vinyl color match. Well, DA rapidly discovers his mistake as a 1" by 2" swath of light gray appears on the lower dash, now covering what was a miniscule 1/8" imperfection. DA, the dumbass, grabs a paper towel in a pathetic attempt to wipe the light gray off, smearing it into a 2" by 3" mess. DA's wife has made her semi-annual appearance in the garage and is watching the "progress" when she suddenly volunteers "fingernail polish remover!" and runs to fetch it. DA, at least being a consistent dumbass, goes for this advice, and uses the fingernail polish remover, which does in fact remove the too light mess. Along with all the color, so now DA has a 2.5" by 3.5" spot with no color at all, allowing the basic black plastic to show through. Life is decidedly not good. Well, DA proceeds to call brother T., explain his fax paus, and ask if perhaps brother Terry might possibly have some vinyl color match in the proper, darker shade of gray of the lower dash. T. refrains from laughing, and says no, but he will check into it and see if he can locate some in the proper shade of gray. Once again, our dumbassed DA can't leave well enough alone, so a few days later he's at the local auto parts store when he spots some "medium gray" vinyl color match. He buys, he returns home, and he holds the cap up next to the lower dash. Looks right, but he's now just a bit of a skeptic, so he test sprays a hunk of cardboard, allows it to dry, and then holds it up next to the lower dash. All looks good. Oh, did I forget to mention that DA is doing all this last weekend during the flood, so he's inside the garage, under fluorescent lights, with no natural light illuminating the subject? So, DA proceeds to mask everything off, spray merrily away, and obliterate his mess. Life is good, well, at least until two days later when the sun finally reappears, and DA discovers that he's still about two shades off, which is painfully obvious thanks to the masking lines. A few more days pass, DA goes out for lunch and discovers he has a voice mail from brother Terry. Brother T.'s voice mail indicates he's located the proper charcoal gray shade of color match, he's special ordered it, he will pick it up later the same day, and if he's not too busy he'll swing by DA's work and deliver it to the back of DA's poor abused L. OK sports fans, Terry may be the local Brembo brake whipping boy, but even a dumbass like DA can see that brother T. has gone way beyond the call of duty to assist a fellow L. owner. Life is good. DA proceeds to lunch, plunks some chow in his dumbassed belly, and returns to a long and very busy afternoon, promptly forgetting all about the voice mail from brother T. DA finally escapes the office, hops in the L., and drives home, wondering all the time what in hell he keeps hearing rattling in the bed of the L., and never once remembering the obvious. DA stops for gas near the house, and upon his return to the L. discovers the charcoal gray color match, and life is good. A few hours later a bit of masking, spraying, and double checking in full daylight are complete, and DA's poor L. is back in pristine shape, with all vinyl surfaces in their proper shades. Life is finally truly good, but only thanks to brother T., and in spite of this dumbassed guy DA.
For those of you who are not yet fully convinced that DA is in fact a bona fide dumbass, we'll now proceed to situation #2, which takes place but mere moments after the first dumbassed mess is finally rectified.
Situation #2 - As some of you know, DA has the good fortune to live on a small piece of land, and has a stock tank a few hundred yards from the house. Being a basic gadget, car buff, there's no such thing as too much horsepower kinda guy (insert Tool Time grunt here), DA recently acquired a brand spankin new, top of the line, all the bells and whistles Kawasaki Prarie 650 ATV. Consider it the L. of the ATV world. In addition to his other faults, DA is way too easily amused, so the dumbass often decompresses from a day at the office by riding the Prarie down to the tank, sitting there while the sun sets, and shooting any turtles unwise enough to poke their snouts above the surface. Speaking of turtles, they are surprisingly nomadic creatures. DA can eradicate all the turtles in his tank, and life will be good for a month or so, and then suddenly there will be four or five new, fully mature turtles that just appear one day. Other neighbors have similar stock tanks, but the closest is nearly 400 yards away. What's the deal with these turtles? Do they hang out in neighbor A's tank for awhile, then suddenly decide they can't spend another night staring at the same speck of mud, so let's go check out DA's tank? I don't get it, but I digress, as dumbasses are wont to do. At any rate, the plan is supposed to work something like this. DA rides the Prarie to the tank, parks on the back slope of the tank dam to minimize his silhouette, and waits for any unwary turtles to appear. When they do, DA slithers off the saddle, plunks his dumb ass on the Prarie floorboard, braces his left arm on the front fender for a steady shot, and then proceeds to bust said unwary turtle with a .22 Magnum. Yesterday everything started out according to plan, but wiser readers will note that with the ATV parked on the back slope of the tank it's sitting pretty nose high. Yeah, I know, you can see where this is going, but then you're not a dumbass. At any rate, after obtaining a good sight picture through the scope DA touches off the first round. Well, the rifle fires, but to no apparent effect. There's no slap as the bullet strikes turtle snout, no splash as the bullet hits the water, nothing. Well, being a dumbass, DA fires a second shot, with similar results. Proving his dumbassedness DA tries a third shot, same results, before finally deciding that something truly is not right here. Finally, DA removes his eye from the scope to take in a slightly larger view of the world, and is struck by the flower petal sculpture he's made of the front rack/upper bumper on the Prarie by blasting not one, not two, but three shots through it from the distance of about 1". To redeem what little pride he has left, DA then leans out, around the fender, and proceeds to bust Mr. Turtle in the snout, if only to stop the turtle from continuing to laugh his ass off at the dumbass on the bank. This is apparently fate's revenge on DA, who mercilessly ridiculed a neighbor for putting two rifle shots through the passenger mirror of his Chevy pickup whilst trying to bust a coyote from the driver's seat. Hey, at least neighbor only took two shots to discover his mistake. So now our dumbassed DA has his next repair project all lined up.
Based on the events of the past few weeks, it has become apparent to me that I'm truly a dumbass. Unfortunately, my condition may be contagious. If you have so little life, so little to do, or are so easily amused that you've read through all of the foregoing, they you too may be showing sign of becoming a dumbass.