Juggling Chainsaws

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot: Day 4

This post will be brief as I've had a hell of a day and I have to get up early tomorrow. Therefore, you get bullet points.

• Dad's car died -- suddenly, dramatically -- last week, and so he took the entire week off while it was getting looked at this. This has increased the stress level in the house significantly as dad is one of those crotchety old Jews who isn't happy unless he's miserable and complaining. 
• Also, it turns out he has Parkinson's. Yay.
• Those two points came together today when mom had to drive dad to his appointment in her car, and then run errands, and she missed her nap. A napless mom is a cranky thing. 
• Topping it off, the fellow with whom I was going to carpool up to the Bidet Shoot told me the following: I dropped off my car at the MB dealership this morning for a pre-trip oil change. The check engine light came on the other day so I told them to check that out as well, assuming I needed an O2 sensor or spark plugs or some other minor stuff. They just called to let me know the balance shaft bearings are kissed, and they're causing timing chain slap, thus the engine popped codes. Bottom line, $5,400 for the repair, and about a week. If I drive it to KY we're going to be sitting on a grenade. They can't get it fixed in time, and I'm not sure I want to dump that kind of cash into it anyway. I may have to buy a new car.
• This is me, freaking right the fuck out. 
• I'm usually pretty good in a crisis, but when I am stressed I cannot do any sort of math, and logistics is math over time. 
• After having a nice freak-out, I lit the Erin Signal and tapped the Internet Hivemind for help. Got lots of good recommendations, and ended up renting a car via Priceline for $14 a day. Hopefully they'll let me use my NRA discount and coupon for a free weekend day, which would further drive down the price. 
• The big problem is time. It's a 13 hour drive from Daytona to Land Between the Lakes, and while I could do it in one stretch, it would require me getting up at shitfuck o'clock to do so and I'm just not functional until 10am and two doses of caffeine. 
• I think it's smarter to do the trip in two parts. I'm picking the car up at noon Thursday and I'm due in KY at 6pm Friday. 
• It looks like Atlanta is approximately halfway in between. I have highly tentative plans to crash at a friend's place in Marietta. If any of you are in the area and don't mind being my backup plan, please leave a message. 
• And now I'm off to bed, because tomorrow I have to do my usual volunteer work at the church, and then drive my father around town like I'm a goddamn chauffeur, and then pack like a lunatic so I will be ready for Thursday. 
• I swear to God, if any of you assholes light my chainsaws on fire, I will fucking shoot you. 
• ZZZzzzzzz.

I just now noticed...

... that Flower Wishes...

... is also the "Eat a Dick" pony:

MIND =  BLOWN. 

The Bidet Shoot, sponsored in part by...

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot:  Day 5

As I began to ponder the logistical quandaries of attending my first-ever blogshoot, I came to the undeniable conclusion that holy crap I cannot afford this. And yet, I still wanted to go. I wanted to go really, really badly. In fact, I wanted to go so badly that, out of sheer desperation, I tried something which I was certain would not work:  I asked for corporate sponsorship to attend.

But before I asked, I had a good long think about who, exactly, I should ask. I didn't want to ask a company whose products I had reviewed, because that would make it seem like they were paying me for a good review, and it might compromise my objectivity in later reviews. But I couldn't very well just ask a company who didn't know me, because the result would likely be either deafening silence or "Go away, kid, you bother us."

And then I had a notion. This notion said "Hey, Erin, you happen to know a company that likes you enough to ask you to review something, but doesn't actually make those things themselves. They're just a clearinghouse.They don't care if you like or hate the stuff they sell."  I thought this was a great idea, and so I asked Lucky Gunner for sponsorship to attend the blogshoot, figuring they would say no.

They said yes.

Look, I'm as shocked as you are.

I thought for sure they would have said "Sorry, Erin, we really don't see what's in it for us," but they didn't. Instead, I was given some money for food, gas, ammo and a hotel room. In addition, they are donating some .223 ammunition and -- get this -- an actual bidet for us to shoot.

All because I asked.

No, I still don't get how it worked.

Anyway, after I picked my jaw up from the floor, I asked what I needed to do or say to pick up my end of the deal. Did I need to blog about it? Hand out tee shirts to the participants? Otherwise debase myself in some way?

"Get us some footage of you guys blowing the crap out of the bidet," I was told. "That's all."  Apparently, "For the lulz" is an acceptable reason for a tax write-off.

So I want you all to know that me writing this, right now, is completely voluntary. The gang at Lucky Gunner has been incredibly generous to me, and has enabled a bunch of weird gunnies to realize their fetish of demolishing innocent bathroom appliances via high-caliber means. Plus they gave us ammo, which is probably worth its weight in gold at this point.

And so because of this, I'm going to be running a commercial banner for them for a while as a means of saying "Thank You."  It's the least I could do under the circumstances.

Some of you may think I've sold out. I disagree, as I've taken great pains to acquire a sponsorship that is compatible with my ethics as a blogger and a reviewer. However, I cannot stop you from thinking this way. If you truly feel I have sold out and compromised my integrity, then I direct you here.

Just had an unusual thing happen

About 30 minutes ago, the doorbell rang. Looking out the window, I saw it was an Older White Guy in a polo shirt and slack, carrying a clipboard. Usually that means "door to door salesman," probably of the lawn care or home alarm variety, so I stepped outside to answer it fully strapped.

As I've said, I carry on a regular basis, even inside the house. When I need to go outside, I just pull a shirt over the gun so as not to freak the mundanes, but when it comes to salesmen I usually OC because 1) it typically freaks them out and 2) it adds a bit of oomph to a "No thank you."

Turns it this gentleman is an investigator for DHS and my next-door neighbor needs a security clearance, and would I mind taking 10 minutes to answer some questions?

My next door neighbor is a nice guy. He works had, pulls double shifts so his wife can take college courses, and has two young children. I trust him to look after my house. I want him to get this job, so of course I say "yes."

This means I am talking to someone to DHS, while open carrying.  I know that I'm not doing anything wrong, but the reptile part of the brain is saying "Cover up! You're talking to The Man!"  The higher parts of the brain, however, are saying "Keep your goddamn hands away from the gun. Do not move to cover it. Do not adjust it. Do not even go near it. No, don't even put your hands in your pockets. Fold your arms over your chest if you don't know what to do with them."

To his credit, the DHS investigator didn't say anything, nor did he act strangely. He appeared not to have noticed, although I'm 99% certain he that he did. He carried on as if everything was completely normal.

I'm totally on That List now, aren't I?

Stink Onions!

This is an incredibly cool thing:

Chicago smells funny. 

It's the Atlas of True Names, and it takes the piss out of place names using the power of etymology. Did you know that "London" means "Unfordable River Town"? I did not. Suddenly, it seems much less posh...

You can order a map of the world, as well as higher-resolution maps of the USA, Canada, and the British Isles, with the rest of Europe coming soon.


Sadly, this appears to be a UK-based product as the prices are given in Pounds Sterling. This means you will probably pay out the nose for transatlantic shipping.

Still, it's very cool!