I lost a very, very good friend. Not as in lost-lost, or “I left her at Macy’s by accident” lost, but just lost. I hope she’s going to be OK, I miss her a ton.

If you are up north and are experiencing single-digit temperatures, I feel for you. But for us cold-blooded creatures in the south, temps in the 30s are worse because we have no reason to be used to it. Don’t mock me for my four layers of clothing or double-electric blankets, (only one of which is plugged it,) or wearing my lined leather jacket at the office. Yes it’s colder where you are, yes you have snow, yes you live in Chicago for some unknown reason, but you just don’t understand what we Floridians feel like right now. You just don’t.

I have the coolest iPhone case ever. The tall blonde at the restaurant yesterday confirmed it. Yes it’s a red crocodile-leather case. I like both the color and the texture. It’s wicked-cool, and hot college-aged women agree with me.

My one year of being “single” is approaching and while the loneliness is difficult, at least the pain of being alone with someone in the house is gone.

I have invited a friend down to visit for a weekend. I hope she can make it.

The more time I spend at Starbucks, the easier it is to laugh at people who need 42 adjectives to order their coffee. “Tall mocha” or “tall raspberry latte”, foshizzle.

The 100lb Puppy of Love has a fatty deposit in his left armpit that requires removal. It is not dangerous, but it will interfere with his walking. I can take my son to the doctor for shots and be brave for him, but when a vet touches my dog, I cry and sniffle. I’m getting teary just thinking about him having surgery.

My mean cat, Bisky Boodle, does not understand why I’m not taking pictures of her anymore. She’d me mad if I was, but is also mad that I’m not. Frankly, there’s just no winning with her and I quit trying years ago. If I am lying on the couch, she will hop up, but her face next to mine and say, “I am going to lie next to you, see? Don’t touch me. Don’t coo at me. Don’t call me cute names. Don’t move. I am here because I am sure it is an inconvenience for you, that’s all.”

I have no desire to make stuffed mushrooms anymore. My lemon chicken with carrots, celery, and bamboo shoots was an unmitigated disaster. I think my cooking is suffering because of my lost friend.

All the Christmas decorations are put away. It is both sad and cleansing, I think.

No, I am not going to join eHarmony or Match or anything else.

I totally scored at fixing my attorney’s computer over the holidays. I used to get a text or call every other day about a crash or lockup, but nothing at all this year. Extra RAM and a stay-awake program solved his problems.

The fungus in the 100lb Puppy of Love’s ears has been eradicated. We got through the weekend of peeing every three hours due to the medication, daily cleaning, and twice-daily ear drops. Does anything feel better than taking care of someone that looks into your eyes with total trust and love?

One of my friends who is right about everything, all the time, is gonna be wrong this time, I just know it.

Cub Scouts meeting this week means I get to hang out with parents. There is a mom there, married, who is very pretty and kind. It’s fun just to be around her because she and I are able to talk. We made pipe-cleaner candy canes together before Christmas while our kids brought us supplies. It was the fastest hour-long scout-meeting ever.

I need a new/used vehicle with a back seat, I know this. But my race car is almost paid off and the thought of no car payment is intoxicating. I hate purchasing used cars as the thought of car-repairs sickens me, but any new car is so expensive and such a depreciating investment. A used Porsche 911 has a back seat, but nobody will agree with me that this car would be a wise parenting choice.

Today I drove at a sedate 5mph through the 9″ cones they place in my son’s school parking lot. My car and I could totally smoke that course at 30mph easily, if they’d just move those Safety Patrol 5th graders out of the way.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

2010 Who the {Bleep} Knows

Is that really “smart”?

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

No, I Don’t Think It Is

Being a single parent does not mean I have to invest in a minivan, a sedan, or a eco-friendly aluminum box shod with bicycle tires. When I bought my car there was no way to put a car seat in it as I couldn’t prevent the airbag from deploying, (kids under the age of 12 shouldn’t use an airbag, just a seat belt.) So I had a passenger-side airbag kill switch installed, and my son has always been able to ride in a carseat or booster seat and we can rock out to music together.

(Note: beside teaching him math on the way to and from preschool and kindergarten in the Z, I also introduced him to the finer selections of 70s, 80s, 90s, and today’s music via Sirius.)

I get 21 miles to the gallon with my 300Hp two-seater.

I can’t buy $500 of bulk products at Sam’s, but I can carry all the groceries for a week I need.

I can carry 40lbs of dog food, 10lbs of cat litter, book bags, and project stuff from the hardware store, all at the same time. I can’t carry lumber, but the hardware store rents a truck for $20 if I want to add an extension onto the house.

No, I cannot haul the cub scout pack — we’re starting cub scouts this month! — to and from camp. But I can get my son to the cub scout meeting in style.

We can go to the movies, go-karting, to Denny’s, to the pool store, get haircuts, hit up Walmart, ransack ToysRUs, and just about anything we want to do.

And we can do it all while looking like race car drivers.

Driving a sports car is different that driving a sedan. It’s not a living room floating down the highway. It’s not a panoramic outlook on the world. It’s not something you do just to get to work.

You drive a sports car because you love the journey, you love the feel of the road, the look of the dashboard, the smell of the highway, and the roar of the exhaust note.

My car has massive blind spots.

My car generates a lot of road noise.

My car requires high-test gas, expensive tires, the best oil.

My sister has a Nissan/Mazda/Toyota living room on wheels with room for seven, self-opening doors, multi-zone air conditioning, and more cup holders than a pack of five-year-old kids at a birthday party chugging Hi-C.

But when my car hits 4500 RPM, it shoves you into your seat like a roller coaster.

This week, my sister is coming to visit me! I shall bring her from the airport to my home in my sports car. I may even let her drive it. I’ll tell her to drop the hammer on the highway on-ramp and not to let up until she reaches the red-line. THIRD AND FLOOR IT! I’ll bellow, and she’ll be able to hit 90 with three gears to go.

I am a single parent. I drive a sport car. Being a parent does not mean you have to give up being You.

And in 2011, I just might upgrade to the gorgeous car pictured at the beginning of this post.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Sports Cars and the Single Dad

Because, Brain, I’m thinking that running a house with just a two-seat sport car isn’t the most efficient thing in the world.

The 350Z isn’t as capable at hauling cargo as a minivan? Who woulda thunk it?

Certainly wasn’t in the manual, that’s for sure.

So what did you find at CarMax? A nice sedan? Maybe a hatchback?

No. a 2006 BMW M3 convertible.

Six-speed manual?

Sequential manual gearbox.

Gray with brown sport leather seats?

Yes.

It can carry groceries?

Yes.

It has a backseat?

Yes. It’s a 2+2.

Soft-top convertible?

Yes.

And you actually think that its a good decision to replace your 350Z with a BMW M3 convertible in the name of “being able to haul more stuff for the family?”

Yes, Brain. Yes I do.

Looks like I’m not going to have to worry about the current state of unemployment in the US; I’m totally needed here.

Brain? Can I have a 2006 BMW M3 convertible?

No, dummy.

Well, can I have a 2006 Z4 M convertible?

No.

2006 Porsche Boxter S?

No! You cannot get a convertible! You need something with which you can go grocery shopping, take your son and his friends to the movies, and possibly even tow a UHaul trailer. I’m thinking a nice Honda sedan.

I’m thinking a 2006 Chrysler 300C SRT, silver and black leather, with a 6.1 liter Hemi V8 pounding out 425HP and 420 lb.ft of torque, foshizzle.

That’d pull a UHaul, wouldn’t it…

Like a dentist ripping out an impacted molar.

DON’T TRY TO TALK ME INTO IT!

I won’t try to tell you about the 300C SRT getting from 0-60 mph in 4.7 seconds.

NO!

Or the sport seats that cradle your @ss.

NO!

Or the fact that you no longer really care about gas mileage as you’ll be working nine miles from home in a few weeks.

NO NO NO! You need a Honda!

My 300C SRT will pick Hondas outta its grill, spitting great, greasy chunks of inline, four-cylinder engine parts into the gutter.

You may not, can not, will not, no way, no how, buy a 300C SRT.

You know that most guys can get drunk and disable you, you know that, right Brain?

I’m just d@mn lucky you can’t hold liquor, otherwise I’d be doing interest calculations right now.

Phooey.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Drool With Me, Won’t You?

“Brain, you’re totally wrong. I can do this.”

“When was the last time you disassembled a six-cylinder engine?”

“Well, never.”

“When was the last time you disassembled any engine?”

“Well, my 1994 Honda del Sol.”

“Do you think there might be a difference between a 1994 Honda four cylinder and a 2005 Nissan 350z’s 300Hp six cylinder engine?”

“Not enough for me to really consider there’s going to be a huge problem changing the spark plugs, no.”

“You should read the maintenance manual before you spend cash on new platinum spark plugs.”

“One needs a spark plug socket and a ratchet to change spark plugs, Brain. I have those tools.”

“Daniel, the last time you looked until the hood of your car, did you see the spark plug wires?”

“No.”

“This is going to be a disaster, I just know it.”

“Shut it Brain! I’m on it.”

… thirty minutes later…

“How’s it going, Daniel?”

“I have lots of bolts, Brain.”

“Bolts?”

“Yes. The spark plugs are… in there.”

“In there?”

“Yes. And to get in there, I have to remove a lot of stuff.”

“Such as?”

“The stabilizer bar.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“The engine shroud.”

“Yes.”

“The upper intake manifold collector.”

“Natch.”

“The throttle control actuator.”

“It’s not really removed; it’s just kinda hanging there.”

“And now it looks like I have to remove the lower intake manifold collector.”

“It does indeed. Have you seen the spark plugs yet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, Brain. No spark plugs. They’re in there; that much I know.”

“Did you get the maintenance manual?”

“No. I’m good.”

“You should get the maintenance manual. You can probably download it from the Internet.”

“Nope. I’m just going to loosen this last bolt on the…”

“DON’T DROP IT!”

…tinkle…

“You dropped it, Daniel.”

“I dropped it.”

“It didn’t go inside the engine, did it?”

“No. It’s resting on the transmission housing.”

“Nice. By the way, do you know what those tubes are for?”

“No.”

“Do you think perhaps one of them is a vacuum tube?”

“Could be.”

“Do you think perhaps one of them is a water tube?”

“Could be.”

“What is your plan if you loose all your engine coolant when you take off the water tube?”

“Um.”

“What is your plan if you drop a bolt down the intake manifold?”

“Um.”

“Daniel. Get the maintenance manual.”

“OK OK OK! I’ll get the maintenance manual, Brain.”

… downloads the maintenance manual …

“Well Daniel, what does it say?”

“It says, ‘Remove the electric throttle control actuator as follows…’”

“Did you remove the electric throttle control actuator?”

“No, I just kinda left it hanging onto the upper intake manifold collector.”

“Because?”

“Because I didn’t want to mess with the cables.”

“HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN THE SPARK PLUGS YET?!”

“No.”

“What does the manual say?!”

“It says that once I remove the lower intake manifold cover…”

“The one with all the hoses that you can’t seal or fix if something goes wrong…”

“That there will be six black boxes that are the ignition coils…”

“Those boxes that are covered by wiring harnesses and hoses like spaghetti…”

“Then I unbolt an ignition coil, remove it, disconnect it, and at the bottom of the hole will be the spark plug.”

“Well that’s so simple you should let your son do it.”

“I shall not be deterred!”

“Daniel, get out of the engine.”

“No! I can do this!”

… several more bolts later …

“Well Brain, I have an ignition coil!”

“One, Daniel?”

“Yes! One ignition coil!”

“Can you see the spark plug?”

“I can!”

“Can you get to it?”

“Yes! I… um… well, I got the spark plug socket down the hole…”

“This sounds like fun.”

“But my socket extension isn’t long enough to get a ratchet on the spark plug socket.”

“Of course. Daniel, if you say you’re going to borrow a car to go to a store to buy a longer socket extension, I’m out of here for the rest of the weekend.”

“Brain, perhaps you’re right.”

“OF COURSE I’M RIGHT! You can’t even get to the other five ignition coils until you remove the lower intake manifold collector!”

“Yeah, I’m done. I’m going to get the spark plug socket out…”

…

“Daniel?”

“I’m um… the spark plug socket isn’t coming out.”

“Dear Lord…”

“OK THAT’S IT! HOW ABOUT YOU HELP ME OUT A BIT, BRAIN!”

“Fine. Get a pair of needle nose pliers and get the d@mn socket out of the engine.”

… futzes with pliers …

“HUZZAH! It’s out, Brain!”

“Excellent.”

“OK, I’m shoving this enigne back together before I don’t have a working car anymore.”

“Smart. Good choice. Well done.”

… thirty minutes later…

“Is it together, Daniel?”

“Yes Brain. The intake manifold collector is bolted and torqued. The ignition coil is installed. Even the stabilizer bar is tight. Everything is back the way I found it.”

“Good! Now, start it up.”

“Start it up?”

“Yes. Key, ignition, clutch, turn, pray.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes!”

“Now?”

“Yes!

“I’m scared, Brain.”

“As you should. Is your Will up to date?”

“Everything goes to Mrs BRK.”

“Fire it up!”

… fires it up …

“It started, Brain! All the cylinders are firing, too!

“Thank Goodness. Now take a vacation day on Monday and get those spark plugs changed by a professional.”

“OK, I will. You know Brain, if this car hadn’t started, it would’ve made one h3ll of a good blog post.”

“Like your computer would’ve been in one piece had you rendered your car useless by trying to change spark plugs. Moron.”

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

My Computer Would’ve Been Destroyed By My Rage