Fixing Dents with a Hairdryer and Aerosol Duster: Myth Busted

Before:

 The internet has many clips of guys fixing dents with these two simple household items.  They hold a hairdryer over the dent for about 2 minutes until it's really hot, then flip a can of keyboard duster upside down and spray it over the dent.  Since the metal is quickly heated and cooled, it expands and pops out the dent.  It's usually followed by a bunch of cheering.

I decided to give it a whirl considering I have nothing to lose.  The sube is riddled with dents, has about 100k on it, and I love it so I plan on driving it til it dies.  I had to grab something at Target so picked up a can of this stuff as I walked by.  You need to give your birthday to buy a can; apparently kids have taken a liking to the it too.

We tried it on two major dents.  Mattafack, these were the first two that my car took after getting it.  I had my jeep down at school for 2 years and it never got a scratch.  I had the sube at school for two months and some girl side swiped it in the parking lot and it got nailed by a football.  The football one I mostly pulled out with a plunger right afterward.  The rest of the tiny dents admittedly came from parking under the huge walnut tree at J-town senior year...the one I always make fun of the Pat monster for.

Want to see the pic of the dent after?  Just look back up at the first picture.  Let me know if you try it and it works for you, but I'd save all of those fresh cans of keyboard duster for 15 year-olds who can't find any beer.

Yep It's Summer

By far, some of the best things about this time of the year are the storms.  Here in the Cackalack we go through cycles where it'll storm nearly every day.  Since moving into my place, it's been standard procedure that when the sky darkens during the day or you hear a rumble in the distance, it's time to head out to the carport and set up a chair, or two or three depending on who's en casa at the time.

This year on the evening of July 4th, nature decided that she'd take over the fireworks for the evening, and delivered a storm that sent little kids screaming and dogs barking.

Even the Jack dog enjoys watching a good storm roll in.  I have to keep an eye on him though; if one of the neighbors pulls into their driveway, Jack's got no qualms about running over to their house in the pouring rain to say hello.

Now this isn't complex, but here are some pointers:  It's important to get out there before the thing hits - that way you get to see and feel the changes as the storm approaches.  Sort of like a song building up I guess.  Then if you are lucky, it gets violent as it passes right overhead.  All you need is a chair, a beer if you'd like one, a dog if you've got one.  If you want to go total redneck you can go suns out guns out and lose the shirt, or in this case rains out veins out.  Doesn't really matter how you do it.  You could even sit outside in the open and get drenched.  Just know that if your neighbors see you doing this, they'll be sure to triple check that their doors are locked before going to bed every night.


Anyway check out the storms, and you'll thank me once it becomes routine.  And don't be dicking around on your smartphone or anything; just sit back and accept the free therapy.

By the way the surfboards off to the right should be getting some heavy use in a week and a half - headed to the outer banks for an entire week!  Even the big dog is excited- he's been doing balance training (found this old picture on my camera):











If it's anything like last year, I'll be seeing this again as I head up the walkway to the beach:


I snapped this about a year ago.  You can see the waves rolling in above the grasses, a real rarity during the summertime in Nags Head.  Last year it was consistent all week long.  The only downer was that the water temp was 58-62 because the winds were blowing onshore (chief).  I remember getting my first look at the water and thinking "why are all these idiots wearing wetsuits, it's July!"  I got in and my question was quickly answered.

Might not be oyster season, but it's everything else season! Needless to say I'm pretty pumped.

Laying Coal

I like to think I'm not as ignorant as I used to be back in high school and parts of college.  I also like to think that one of the things I've been able to develop more of is compassion.  That being said, this stuff is just hilarious.

This was introduced to me by my friend Bill, who recently purchased an F-250 Turbo Diesel, as seen on one of my prior posts.  He's going to convert it to run on fry oil within the year; that way we can scorn at Prius drivers for being so ecologically irresponsible.  Anyway, with a turbo diesel, when you mash the gas and the engine revs up, but before the turbo kicks in, the engine spews a bunch of exhaust out the back.  Some rednecks' trucks emit huge clouds of it.  Said hayseeds refer to it as "laying coal" among other things. 

I don't have anything against bicyclists on the road (accept when they're on a two lane road with a 45mph limit, going 25mph, side by side so they can chat while cars have to cross the double yellow, risking life and limb with oncoming traffic).  So maybe I do sometimes.  Check out this clip from the web.  Some yokel took laying coal and went professional with it.  Deadly accuracy - hysterical! 

Your Local Creepy Asian Market

If you like trying different kinds of foods, I recommend finding an Asian market nearby. My local Asian market is fortunately only about a mile away from me, and it's enormous. Not surprisingly, it's got a very clever and interesting name: Grand Asia Market. The place is huge. It's the size of a regular grocery store, but there's nothing regular about this one. It's an experience every time. There are aisles and aisles of foods that I have no idea what they are, all the writing is in Chinese, no one speaks English, the smells are downright terrifying, and the prices....fantastic!

I thought I was aware of what most vegetables were until I strolled through the produce section...anyone know what the hell a garanga is? If you are a serious carnivore, they've got just about every organ from every animal you can think of....livers, feet, gizzards, kidneys, frozen blood, intestines, and I even found pork uterus. What someone does with that I have no idea. Given that we are below the Mason Dixon, my guess would be deep fry it, throw in a side cup of ranch, and serve it to hungry rednecks.

I like to go into this place with an idea of what I'm shooting for, because after about 15 minutes the smell starts to get to you. They have about 15 different kinds of whole fish out on ice, octopus, crabs and even live tilapia and trout. It smells like a fish market. Not only do they have durian fruits, but they even have durian fruit flavored popsicles. Take a minute to google a durian fruit - you'll find plenty of videos of people trying to eat them, some vomiting before it even hits their lips. I want to try one, but I won't go it alone. Let me know if you're down and I'll pick one up. My favorite line from the wikipedia article on durian fruit is:

"... its odor is best described as pig-shit, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock. It can be smelled from yards away. Despite its great local popularity, the raw fruit is forbidden from some establishments such as hotels, subways and airports, including public transportation in Southeast Asia."

Anyway, they've got nori sheets, 5-10lb bags of sushi rice, and just about anything else you could think of to make sushi rolls, including the bamboo mats. The picture quality sucks because I didn't care how everything looked on the plate and it was taken with Jensen's Blackberry, but it sure tastes good, and for about $12 I made somewhere around 7-8 rolls. This one was mostly tuna, avocado, and cucumber, with different sauces.

Quail eggs on top? Sure, they've got them too.

A computer-printed label above the tuna steaks says "sashimi grade" in parenthesis, so who knows if it's really sashimi grade. We've been doing this for a few years now though and people only got sick once, so I can't say I'm too worried about it.

Getting into Heaven

According to some hardcore bible bangers, who likely pose a threat to society, the world is going to end tomorrow, May 21st, 2011. They're so convinced that many have sold all of their belongings to pay for things like billboards around the country. I saw one the other day in eastern North Carolina. Shocker.

Anyway, it's supposed to happen tomorrow at 6PM. Jensen and I have an engagement party to go to at 6:30, and it's supposed to have heavy hors d'oeuvres, so even if the apocalypse is a half hour to an hour behind schedule, we still wouldn't get our last supper in. That leaves no choice other than to have that meal this evening.

I recently found a butcher shop down the road that carries all sorts of interesting things--kind of like the asian market a few blocks away, but without some of the downright terrifying sights and smells (btw still haven't pulled the trigger on a durian fruit). I wish I hadn't discovered it on the second to last day of Earth, but better late than never. I figured Jensen and I could go out with a real bang, so guess what we're having for our last supper? You guessed it. Alligator and home brew.


Might as well make it interesting. We'll probably add some veggies and rice to tag along.

I could be doing this because I'm curious about what alligator tastes like. Or I could be doing this in the event that heaven gets overcrowded tomorrow evening (hundreds of millions of people would take some serious planning) and that it becomes a situation comparable to the great depression, where would-be day laborers line up along fences and the dock masters select the few that will get work, and therefore pay, for that day.

In the case like this, it's good to stand out. What if God was having trouble making up His mind, and threw out a question: "What did everyone have for their last supper?"

You'd get all kinds of responses.

One guy would say "Frozen pizza. I washed it down with some Crystal light, too"

Another might say "Filet mignon with a bleu cheese butter, herb garlic whipped potatoes, and a Napa Cab to represent the blood of Christ."

"Rosemary chicken with couscous and asparagus with hollandaise sauce."

"Alligator and homebrew." Done. Shoe-in. It's at least unique enough to make it to the finals or semi-finals of the competition, if not right through the gates. I'm sure God would add something like "When my son was on earth, everyone drank so much wine only because people hadn't yet developed the strains of fresh Northwest hops that give a real kick to an American IPA." This meal might even leave some room for negotiation; Jensen and I are a package deal, and I'm not going without her. She'd get in way before this anyway. Me, I don't know about that. I can't begin to count the number of times one of my friends like Jared said something like, "you're goin' to hell, Cook."

Aside from uniqueness, think of it from this angle: Chickens just mind their own business all day - eating seeds, pecking around. Cows are friendly, slow animals who just eat grass and produce milk for many naive people who still believe it's actually good for you; but that's not their fault. Pigs are actually very loyal, gentle and as intelligent or more so than the average family dog.

But not alligators. For thousands of years, alligators have been ripping the limbs off of unsuspecting fisherman all over the world. They regularly eat dogs. Mattafack, Florida alligators live off a steady menu consisting of swamp rednecks, wading birds, retired seniors wearing wrap-around sunglasses, and Pomeranians. I'm practically doing God's work by eating this beast.

Life in the Cackalack

I was just thinking about how good life in the Cackalacky has been lately. I've been really busy--a lot to do with work, and recently Jensen moved in, so there's been a lot going on.

Anyway, it's only May and I've gotten a lot of quality trips in, with even more to come. Next weekend will be the fourth or fifth beach trip.

We headed to Carolina Beach over Easter with some friends. When you head down to Fort Fisher, there are other people, but at the same time it's sort of like having your own beach. And at Fort Fisher, it's against the law to not be redneck.

My buddy Bill just moved back to NC and his truck ensured that we were in accordance with this law:


Complete set up with grill, tent, and jacked up Ford turbo diesel. Everything you need to kick it at CB. Minus the High Lifes.





photo courtesy of Randy Childs


One of the other things I like about spring down here, is that you can trunk it in April. Hopping in the water without a wetsuit, no problem.


After about 30 minutes though I had to get out; my hands were blue and I couldn't move my arms much anymore. Still felt good to do it though.



photo courtesy of Randy Childs

At different times over the last few years I had thought about eventually moving out west, toward Colorado or some place like that. As time rolls on, I know that's not for me. When I fall or face plant, I don't want it to be on snow, ice, or frozen earth, I want it to be in the water...see exhibit A:







That wave was at least 10 feet. Must've hurt.

photo courtesy of Randy Childs


Anyway, onto the homebrew front. I don't mean to float my own boat. I'm not one to really drink my own cool-aid. I don't really think it's right for one to pat oneself on the back. But...I think I'm starting to get pretty good with turning this:

and this:






into some of this:



I'm serious, look how delicious that looks. That's a shot of my latest IPA sitting on the deck. I brewed this one with 3 types of malts and 2 hop varieties. It's far from perfect, but it clocks in at 7.5% and tastes pretty damn good.

If that picture doesn't make you want to have a beer, you're nuts. Or perhaps you are the type of person who would rather be sipping some kind of mixed drink that has Malibu in it. Get you some!

Beach Weekend II

This year's beach weekend was awesome. I had been looking forward to it for months, and it didn't let me down.

As to be expected, there was plenty of laughs, plenty of beer, cards, several vomits, and a few cheese slams, to name a few.

Let's start with this year's roster.

Making up for missing last year, is Dooley.



Also goes by Dool show, and to very few people, Ian. Dooley is our resident mixologist and hails from the rock (chief). When talking to Dooley, if you say anything that has to do with Boston, Nantucket, or any kind of rum, you have to yell "chief" afterwards. Dool show set out to explore New Zealand for a few months, and ended up staying for two years. When he got back, we learned he was now married. Sick wedding Dooley.


Disregard me in the foreground with that stupid long-brimmed hat that Owen finds every time he's there.


Next we have Robert.



Goes by RED, Rdoug, Dougbert. He was the first recipient of this year's cheese slam award. This picture was after he thought he caught the slam for the second night in a row, when really it was just a fake. If it weren't for Rob, Darren would likely be dead by now. Rob once hurled right on the side of Buckingham Palace. It could have been some leftover bitterness from the Revolutionary War, but it was more likely because of the gentleman below.

Cawley.



Goes by Cal. Cal was on the London trip with Robert during a study abroad for school, and after Rob was having the worst hangover of his life at the time (until beach weekend last year), Cawley was asking Rob if he wanted to gnaw on a stick of butter, or take mayonnaise shots with budweiser chasers. This led to the immediate booting on the Queen's primary residence. The double bird in the picture is likely going out to anything related to Pittsburgh or liberalism.


Scott ("Scawt!")




See back right of picture.
Goes by Owens or Y'Owens. His specialty is the cheese slam. If you don't know what that is, you don't want to. If you do know what that is, you probably wish you didn't. Owen desperately needs to get out of New York City. His former specialty is starting trouble, and claims that he didn't do anything to start it, when in actuality, it was probably about 75% him, 25% some guy who said something he immediately regretted. In Chapel Hill on Cal's birthday during school, apparently a car full of guys jumped Owen, kicked him a bunch of times, and stole his prized Mets hat. Owen didn't remember the ordeal until an hour later.

Jack.

Goes by Jack man, Biggs, Big, Large, Large guy, large man, or one of several hundred other names. He spent most of the time snoring next to the table or barking at people several houses down.





Here in spirit:

Corey.

Goes by Blake, Babe #1, Babe #2, Grilled Cheeses, or Babe Will You Make Me a Grilled Cheese. Corey couldn't make it this year because he's West Coasting at Gonzaga and couldn't fork out the cash for a plane ticket.

Darren

Goes by Salty, Salty Donkey, The Gow, or his Saltiness. Couldn't make this year because the man has a tight grip on him, pretty much to the point where breathing is difficult. This weekend was the end of quarter, so Darren was lucky if the man even let him eat lunch. I was half expecting him to show up Friday night at 2AM, like he did last year. His specialty is nearly burning down apartments with chicken nuggets two times in one night, and getting lost in Mexico after a binge, only to turn up two days later with no wallet and no shoes (he did some old world bartering and paid the cabby with his sandals).

The Pat Monster.

I'm shocked that Pat's still alive. Everything that has gone wrong throughout college he equates to bad luck, but upon deeper analysis, it's 100% his fault; he just hasn't accepted that yet. He came back from Thanksgiving one year with a shiner because he got knocked out by Ricco Rodriguez in a Vegas Casino. It's probably a good thing Pat didn't come down, especially if he was driving. While in school, he got pulled for DUI without having a sip of alcohol; in fact, he was the DD that night. I'm not saying he's a bad driver. I'm saying he's a terrible driver.



Since the water was cold and the waves decent, Dooley and I decided to dress up like penguins and go surfing. Dooley has been pretty much all over the world surfing, and on days like this, when some of the sets were 5-6 feet, he doesn't say anything, but I know he's thinking "man, this is average, I wish it was double overhead."



















The weather forecast looked like shit all week coming up to the weekend, especially after Rob jinxed it by sending everyone the link. Turned out that there was nothing to complain about at all. It was supposed to rain one day, and missed us by only a few miles or so, leaving a big gay rainbow over the ocean in front of the house.


And we all know there's only one way to pose in front of a rainbow: Like you've got one on the bumper of your car.














Pretty cool pictures taken by Dooley though. He did some enhancing effect on this one and I can't figure out if it's out of a really good dream or a really bad one.










Already looking forward to next year's trip. In the mean time, Owen has gotten engaged; congrats buddy.


It's been about a year since I started the ole blog and I feel like my reasons for doing so have shifted. At first, I thought it would be a good idea because in general I've got a lot to say about a lot of things. But what I've realized after typing out these posts is that just the act of writing them out has made me realize what great times I'm having. If anything I won't have to look back one day and say "wow I really had it great"--instead, I can appreciate it for all it's worth right now.