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gdae said:
Razors.
EVER SINCE I started shaving circa 1984, I’ve used the same old Trac II razor. Not only have I thought it was good enough, but I thought it was pretty darned good. Which is why I scoffed at the freebie Fusion 5-bladed razor that came with my newspaper a year or so ago. The cheapie in me compelled me to use it, however – and I have not stopped using it.
Five blades may seem ridiculous, but I tell you, they really do glide over the old puss. I hate to admit to change, but it looks like I’m sold.
Yeah, the cartridges are a LOT more expensive than Trac II’s, but (and this is the neat thing) you can use the fusions for a long, long time. The Trac II would make me bleed in numerous places after more than 4 shaves. I’m up to 10 on my fusion and no nicks. Procter and Gamble (owns Gillette) probably doesn’t want you to do that, but I’m still using mine long after the lubri-strip is worn out, with no ill effects.
My inner cheapie loves it. (In Martha Stewart voice): It’s a good thing.
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I use the 5 blade model. I don't know what it is about me but I love to try every new razor or tooth brush that comes out. I would go to a 50 blade razor if they made one. I don't know why but my beard grows in thick and fast. I have to shave EVERY day and it wipes out the razor after one use. I get the multi-pack at BJ's for pretty cheap.

Once my brother-in-law had the barber do a straight razor shave on his face. Man that was funny I laughed my ass of for an hour riding around with him looking at the 50 or so tiny cuts on his face. I don't know what the hell the barber was doing but I don't think he did many straight shaves.
 
davidf said:
You never told me you drove a Smart car. I really want the opportunity to do that. I've been fastinated since the 1st day I saw one. I saw 8 or 10 on a carrier a couple weeks back on my way to Houston.
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Just go golfing and rent a cart.
 
jalnjr said:
wtf...
does everything need an expiration date???
"throw that out, it's expired".
my g/f tosses out packs of mccormick spices
from 2007...stuff was prolly stuffed in bodies
to mummify them.....:smile:

yeah, and i'm buying 'expired' sx-70 film
w/ ridiculous expiration dates for big bux!!
insane looooky here
stopped making film in 2006...yer screwed...
stuff works fine.
god, i love that camera!!
sx70.gif
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My step father was a garbage man. He use to bring home all the expired film and we would take pictures of everything. I thank god that an expiration date is on film as I would not have a single picture of my childhood if film did not expire. A few years back I took a bunch of rolls in that we didn't have the money to develop and there were a bunch of great pictures and some Super 8 movies too.
 
Re: the Honda S2000

There have been LOTS of threads on here about that car. Now that I'm looking for specific info. (and not just tons of brief mentions like the search is giving me) I can't find what I want.
Wasn't there a thread on here awhile back detailing the yearly changes? I'm considering buying one eventually. It needs to be able to accommodate the optional hard top.

Thanks for looking. I couldn't bear to start yet another S2000 thread.
 
GOING ROACH

Here is a useful phrase I have coined, and I use it among myself quite often, and think others would find it useful if only I could get it out there. Dunno – Perhaps I’ve already used it around you. And the phrase is: “going roach.”
Explanation: generally, roaches are shy, reclusive creatures that hide themselves at all costs and only become brave enough to venture out under the cover of darkness. These are the ones that you don’t usually see. But occasionally something happens. A roach reaches the end of its life and throws caution to the wind, or perhaps is ill in some way, or perhaps, in its own roachy brain just one day says “F--- it.”
And then the roach makes himself visible. He “goes roach,” as I say. He crawls his black body across a white carpeted floor right in presence of a roomful of humans. He flies into someone’s hair. He flails his legs loudly inside of a potato chip bag. He makes himself annoyingly obvious to the point that someone else had to Deal With Him. Spray him, stamp him, whatever. (and you just know that his buds still hiding in the cracks are watching him chase people and saying daaaaaaaaaamn! in awe).
Now, the phrase Going Roach also applies to humans. There are millions of us and mostly we just blend into the crowd. And even if we dye our hair pink, we still blend in enough. Most of us never go roach; however, when you have millions of people running around, a few go roach every day – and sometimes spectacularly so. Somebody does something that makes everyone else look around and say daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn! Usually I find myself applying the phrase whenever I see someone on the news running from 50 cop cars in a smoking 1970 Pontiac with 3 shredded tires. A good rule of thumb is that if you find yourself as the subject of a breaking news story complete with helicopter shots, you have completely gone roach. The runner, or the robber, or the streaker, is the roach, and the cops are the shoes.
Person 1: Why is everyone looking at the TV?
Person 2: See that car running from the cops?
Person 1: Yeah.
Person 2: That’s Jack.
Person 1: That’s Jack? Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn, he’s totally messed up this time.
Person 2: Worse. He went roach.

So, to sum:
Going roach: A grave social error. To suddenly become flamboyantly conspicuous, usually with negative consequences.
 
gdae said:
Mini Rant:
Not long ago I was driving up 290 here in Houston, a little after sundown. I looked in my mirror and saw the diamond-white HIDs of some vehicle behind me, closing fast. No sooner had I made that observation when WHOOSH! A black BMW shot by me on the left. A split second later a black Maserati blew by me on the right. My car shook in the shock wave.
Prevailing traffic speed was about 70 but these two made it look like it was sitting still as they weaved in and out. This wasn’t a spirited drive on some back country road. These guys tangled on a major highway at close to rush hour. I haven’t been the most militant anti-streetracer out there but cr@p like this makes me think about it.
It would have ticked you off, too, especially if you’d had your family in the car with you.
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I missed this post when it first appeared, but I thank you for posting it.
 
OK, so this is my 1,000th post, and all I can say is ... What did I say?
I suppose I'd have twice as many posts by now if I didn't suppress my wise-guy comments.

It's weird, though. For some reason I pay attention to the "significant" numbers when they roll by on the odo. I took pictures of my gage cluster when I went over 250k miles (in the accord), and sweat bullets when I rolled over 50k in the NSX for some reason.

Just thinkin' ... my car is 18 now. If she were a girl she'd be ... legal.
 
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A LOOK BACK at the year:

I MARRIED MY longtime gal, Tina, on 09-09-09, and life is good. Sometimes I’m amazed that anyone would actually wish to throw her lot in with mine. She must have seen something in me because (to put the worst face on the situation) when we met I was unemployed, broke, living with the folks, and wore glasses with lenses like coke-bottle-bottoms.
But lately, sometimes, I have been seen wearing stylish eyewear while zipping around in an NSX with a hot chick.
Like I said, life is good.

SO AROUND CHRISTMAS I was hinting that a good gift for me would be a lamp that I could use for reading while in the recliner. Nobody took the bait, however. Cut to last night: I’m in the garage, and what to my wondering eyes appear, but my neighbor taking out his garbage, among which was a lamp. Under cover of darkness, I slunk over there and snagged it, took it into the garage, and, after a brief cleaning, had a very nice 3-bulb lamp. It’s perfect! There was nothing wrong with it, other than it was really dusty; no scratches, no dents – nothin’. I even took it for a spin and got some reading done.
In a way, I admire people who can just throw something away when they don’t need it anymore, even when it’s good. But mostly I think they’re just wasteful.

AS LONG AS we’re on the subject, and now that I think of it, I’ve snatched other things from the jaws of the dump truck. There’s the set of mahogany TV trays that I picked up during a walk through the neighborhood; we’ve used these every single day for years, actively. Then there was the ornate coffee table we picked up and sold a week later for 50 bucks; then there was a computer desk, and a planter, and a BBQ pit that has cooked many of my meals ….
Mind you, the house is not all full of cr@p at all. We turn up our noses at the bad stuff.:wink:

INSPIRED BY ONE of the above conversations in this thread, I set out this year to see if I could use one Fusion razor cartridge for the whole year – and I have! I put it in last January and I’ll use it one more time tonight before I finally pitch it and put in a new one. Using a new razor cartridge will probably make me feel like a wild man.
The rule was that if it started to nick me at all I’d stop using it. I just wanted to see how far I could go, and I did make it twelve months. It’s not as smooth as new but I could probably keep going. In the interest of full disclosure I’ll say that my beard is pretty wimpy, and only rough on the chin and mustache. I don’t think someone with a steveny type beard could go so long. But it is possible to go for months.
It looks like the Gillette people are aware of this potential problem for their business, because if you look at their advertising, it says “Swap out that old cartridge! Time for a new cartridge!” I used to change out moderately expensive Trak II cartridges every few shaves; now I can use an expensive one for a whole year plus. Makes me worry that they’ll find some way to design in obsolescence, a thing which they obviously failed to do during produce development.

AND NOW MY car is 19, which doesn’t seem so long, now. It still feels new.
Then I juxtapose that thought with the idea that there are human beings who have gone from infancy to complete independence in less time; and this idea make the car seem just a touch old. And it’s owner? He doesn’t feel old either, but more and more often he starts thinking ….
Then I hop in the car and haul @ss until the feeling passes. Whoo-hoo!
 
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Interesting story: There is a girl working for me right now, who says that a couple of years ago she and her friend were walking across a parking lot at a grocery store when they spied a box just sitting there, out in the open. It was a regular sized office storage box. Out of curiosity, they went over and looked to see what was in it.
It was full of money. The bills were large bills, not neatly stacked, and the box was full, she said.
And so, I asked, what did they do? Answer: they got nervous and left it.
They were just young girls, didn’t know anything about the money or what they might get involved in if they touched it; they only knew it wasn’t theirs, so they just left it.
What would you do?
Me, I’ve given it some thought. I’d grab it, of course, but after seeing the movie No Country for Old Men, there are certain precautions I’d take. Read on.

WHAT TO DO if you find a big box of money and would like to keep it:

The honest way:
Notify police. Any unclaimed items become yours 90 days after public notification. Obviously, there is a lot that can go wrong with this method. You might not get any of it if the authorities determine that the dough is illicit, which it almost certainly would be. Honesty is expensive sometimes, and yet in this scenario you are less likely to have a van of gang-bangers do a drive-by on your arse.

The clandestine way:
Flame me if you want, but I think most people would snatch the money. Here’s what to do if you’d like to keep the money and live, too:
First, throw the box in the car and get the hell out of there.
If it is cartel money, it might have a tracking device, so don’t go home. Go in the opposite direction. Make sure you aren’t followed, of course. Stop by a store and buy a box of big plastic garbage bags, a newspaper, and some matches.
Drive to a spot, preferably deep in the woods and completely private, where you can do your dirty work: take the box of money and your supplies away from the car and away from prying eyes. Cut a hole in one of the garbage bags and wear it over your clothing. Why? Because if the money is the spoils of a bank robbery, there might be one of those exploding dye packets in there, and you don’t want that all over you.
Spread out the newspaper, and begin transferring the cash from the box into a bag, making darned sure there are no tracking devices in there, dye packets, drugs, etc. If a dye packet does explode, at least it won’t tag the money you’ve already stuffed in the bag. If you find a tracking device, destroy it.
When the money has been transferred to the bag and you are certain that it is clean, tie it up, set fire to everything else(primarily to eliminate fingerprints), and head for home, discarding your shoes on the way (footprint analysis).
Do not make any obvious changes to your lifestyle for awhile. If you ever get around to putting it in the bank, physically wash the money first, and don’t deposit more than 10K at any one time.

Happy new year, everyone!
 
Gdae, You need to hang out with us for a week and you could furnish a whole block. Two full 30 yard dumpsters of crap cleaned out and thrown in dumpsters today from 1st of the month move outs. A whole friggen stero system and 2-3 THOUSAND VCR tapes. It sucks to throw it all away but in the long run it's less expensive to just get rid of it quickly so we can refill the apartment.

Now for my story,

I would like to thank the person at the bachman Pretzel company who packed my box of pretzels. I bet you went through 3x the normal amount of glue putting the box together. I had to shred the box to get to the bag inside. Oh and twisting the tie on the bag so tight I had to get scissors to cut the bag open, classic. Some people have fun at work, for sure!


BTW on the razor thing. A tip from the guys on F-chat is to dry off the razor head after each use and they will last longer. I should post a close up of 2 days groth. I swear my after shave must have rogaine in it. LOL
 
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HOW I LEFT work with $10, arrived home thirty minutes late with $2 and nothing to show for it:
This happened yesterday. No part is embellished.
I really like the country fried steak sandwiches at Sonic. Yesterday I’m starving because I didn’t eat anything at work, so I stopped on the way home. I was lucky, there were no other cars waiting, just a few going through the drive-thru. I ordered the #10, no sauce. There seemed to be some confusion about the meaning of “no sauce.” Did that mean that I didn’t want the vegetables? No, I wanted the lettuce and tomato, just no mayo, mustard, or ketchup.
Just meat and bread?
And vegetables. But no sauce. At all.
OK, so after ten minutes the girl brings out the food. The lemon slush is good, the fries are good … but they gave me a cheeseburger.
I pushed the button and pointed out that I had ordered a number ten, they’d given me a nine.
The woman said, and I quote, ”You ordered the number nine, but that’s OK, we’ll take care of it.” Fine, cover your incompetence by insinuating that the customer is a liar, just bring on the food, my mouth is watering. The woman on the speaker comes out, confiscates the hamburger and makes a show of slipping it into the garbage can in front of my car.
I steal a few fries but not many because I want them with my sandwich. Ten minutes later they happily delivered – another cheeseburger.
I pushed the button again and made clear exactly what I was there for; but not with any anger in my voice, because I don’t want them to spit on my sandwich. The lady comes out, doesn’t say a word, and repeats the confiscation/trash can ritual.
This time I wait 15 minutes. My drink is gone, the fried are cold, the sun has gone down completely, and at home my girl is in the bed waiting all soft and warm for me to get there and nap. I should have eaten and been there by now. The carhop comes bouncing out and says cheerily, "I think we got it right this time!” and disappears.
I opened up the package and beheld my chicken fried steak sandwich. With mayonnaise.
A wise man would have, at that point, simply asked for his money back. I was beyond that. I went spinning off into realms of pissedoffitude that the Incredible Hulk never explored. I heaved everything out of the window, and it’s a d@mn good thing I wasn’t in the NSX, because as it was I laid as much scratch as my old Accord could muster.
It’s not the first time this happened, the first time was back in the eighties, though, and I’d gotten over it mostly.
Its weird how complete incompetence has a way of getting you PO’d, even when you expect it.
I went home and made pigs-in-a-blanket.
 
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gdae said:
HOW I LEFT work with $10, arrived home thirty minutes late with $2 and nothing to show for it:
This happened yesterday. No part is embellished.
I really like the country fried steak sandwiches at Sonic. Yesterday I’m starving because I didn’t eat anything at work, so I stopped on the way home. I was lucky, there were no other cars waiting, just a few going through the drive-thru. I ordered the #10, no sauce. There seemed to be some confusion about the meaning of “no sauce.” Did that mean that I didn’t want the vegetables? No, I wanted the lettuce and tomato, just no mayo, mustard, or ketchup.
Just meat and bread?
And vegetables. But no sauce. At all.
OK, so after ten minutes the girl brings out the food. The lemon slush is good, the fries are good … but they gave me a cheeseburger.
I pushed the button and pointed out that I had ordered a number ten, they’d given me a nine.
The woman said, and I quote, ”You ordered the number nine, but that’s OK, we’ll take care of it.” Fine, cover your incompetence by insinuating that the customer is a liar, just bring on the food, my mouth is watering. The woman on the speaker comes out, confiscates the hamburger and makes a show of slipping it into the garbage can in front of my car.
I steal a few fries but not many because I want them with my sandwich. Ten minutes later they happily delivered – another cheeseburger.
I pushed the button again and made clear exactly what I was there for; but not with any anger in my voice, because I don’t want them to spit on my sandwich. The lady comes out, doesn’t say a word, and repeats the confiscation/trash can ritual.
This time I wait 15 minutes. My drink is gone, the fried are cold, the sun has gone down completely, and at home my girl is in the bed waiting all soft and warm for me to get there and nap. I should have eaten and been there by now. The carhop comes bouncing out and says cheerily, I think we got it right this time!” and disappears.
I opened up the package and beheld my chicken fried steak sandwich. With mayonnaise.
A wise man would have, at that point, simply asked for his money back. I was beyond that. I went spinning off into realms of pissedoffitude that the Incredible Hulk never explored. I heaved everything out of the window, and it’s a d@mn good thing I wasn’t in the NSX, because as it was laid as much scratch as my old Accord could muster.
It’s not the first time this happened, the first time was back in the eighties, though, and I’d gotten over it mostly.
Its weird how complete incompetence has a way of getting you PO’d, even when you expect it.
I went home and made pigs-in-a-blanket.
Click to expand...

Sorry, but you bad fortune made me laugh out loud. Good luck today.
 

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