Park

My old wireless router didn't survive the trip to NZ. Of course I couldn't buy what I wanted here, so I had to buy it from NewEgg and have it shipped to HumanTeam, who, many thanks, shipped it here. Now that it's set up, I can access teh intarweb pipes from my phone again (I don't have a data plan here because it's insanely expensive compared to the US), which I tested by posting the picture of the courtyard of Park Road Post. It's pretty cool, a post production facility so real, you'd think you were in Los Angeles.

Review: 10,000 BC

If you can get past all the historical inaccuracy, and just suspend your disbelief for ninety minutes. Then this is an OK movie. I mean, this is Emmerich we're talking about here. You did see 'Independance Day' and 'Day After Tomorrow' right? We're not talking about the pinnacle of modern filmmaking. Roland Emmerich was Michael Bay before Michael Bay was Michael Bay. This is the "Plot holes? Who cares, let's blow some shit up" method of making movies. If you can accept that Jeff Goldblum can reverse engineer alien WiFi networks in one day, you should have no problem with Egyptians using slave labor (they didn't) and wooly mamoths (what ... the ... fuck?) to build the great pyramid of Khufu.

So, if you've got your belief suspended, you might actually enjoy this movie. It's a garden variety boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy turns into man who saves girl while saving the world movie. Effects range from good to god-awful. So this looks like a rental for sure. Whatever, it was Ms. STFU's turn to pick. I wanted to see Drillbit Taylor

Two Stars

McCrazy

They said "Vote for Us", then they folded on Bush's War. They said "Vote for Us", then they failed to stop the destruction of The Supreme Court. They Said "Vote for Us" and failed to stop the war that they helped start. They said "Vote for Us". Where's the accountability for Valerie Plame, for signing statements, for the budget, for warrentless wiretapping, for immunity for the telcos, for the energy task force, for any-fucking-thing at all?

Fuck the Democrats.

If Obama is somehow not the Democratic candidate for president in 2008 ... if the election is between McCain and Clinton ... you can bet your ass that I will be voting for McCain. He's all kinds of crazy, but at least he's not lying to me.

Easter

UPDATE: It's been, what? Six months since I posted this entry and it's still getting almost ten percent of the traffic on this blog. So, if you're here randomly, leave me a note. I'd love to hear from all you people who come here seemingly at random to look at pictures of my elbow.


While the rest of the gang was at GW&DW's house having brunch and hanging out with the usual suspects. I got to hang out at the local E.R. Why you ask? Well, this

is what a bursa sac infection looks like. I actually was in the ER twice, once on Saturday and once on Easter. On Sunday a nice young doctor who appeared to be about fifteen years old was nice enough to give me IV antibiotics and then stick a large needle in my elbow and suck out three or four cc of icky yellow pus. Saturday night was the worst I've felt in a long, long time. Never fear, I am, so far, on my way to recovery. The pen mark on my arm is where the infection was on Saturday afternoon the first time I went to the ER. The doc Saturday said "come back if it gets bigger", so, there you go.

Hussein

Frank

"'The Long Walk' will come about in the next five years..." - Frank Darabont

My collectors edition of 'The Mist" is pre-ordered on Amazon, since no one could be bothered to release it in New Zealand, I haven't gotten to see it yet. I'm glad that they're finally getting to King's short stories and novellas for movie material. I think it's where you'll find his best work.

Review: Vantage Point

This is a movie about the attempted assassination of the US president. It's told in Rashomon Style, thus the film's title. The problem was, in short, that it was a lame attempt and it was more of a gimmick than a story telling style. In the five or so times you watch the events of the movie occur from the different perspectives, only once did I ever feel like I was shown how something had changed based on my viewpoint. And after all that it just degenerated into a run of the mill action movie punctuated by an overly long and underly inspired chase sequence. Note to Hollywood. Film school gimmicks are not a replacement for story and/or actual character development.

Two Stars.

South: Part II

So, I'm in picton, and it's a quarter to ten and I'm about nine hours behind the rest of the group. Unfortunately, my day is not quite over. I have to get to Kaikoura, which is where we're spending the night and is about 160 km down the coast from Picton.

This

View Larger Map

was the longest ride I've ever taken in my entire life. I have never been so scared on a motorcycle ... ever. I didn't really know where I was going. I mean, I had an idea, but I left Picton on SH1 headed towards Kaikoura, and the next time I would see a sign telling me that I was headed to Kaikoura, I could fucking see Kaikoura. In SoCal, there's a sign every 10 feet telling you what freeway you're on or how far, and what, the next town is. You know what's between Picton and Kaikoura? not a god damn thing, that's what. So not only are there no signs to tell you where you're going, there's no, and I mean no, street lights. Or house lights. There's pretty much no lights at all. It was quite literally pitch black. It was so dark that I kept checking to see why I didn't have my high beams on, only to find that they were already on and they were showing me two things, jack, and shit. So I don't really know where I'm going, there's no signs to tell me where I'm going, it's pitch black and it's late. Which on one hand was nice. Since it was late there weren't a lot of cars on the road. On the other hand, there wouldn't have been a lot of room for the cars anyway ... because of all the tractor trailers going in the opposite direction. They kept on their side of the road, sometimes.

You have to remember here that SH1 is not exactly the South 405 through The Valley, 5 or 6 lanes wide in both directions and built straight enough to land a 747 on. SH1 between Picton and Kaikoura is one lane, each way, and about as straight as a Judy Garland concert. It's twisty, lots of decreasing radius turns and blind corners. All of the turns are marked with what must have been the legal minimum of reflectors. I lost track of the number of times I'd come over a rise and find myself having no clue whatsoever what the road was about to do. It's carved out of mountains that seem to be mostly sandstone so there's really fine loose gravel at the apex of seemingly every turn. It would be a challenging ride during the day. But it's not the day, it's night and I'm tired and in a hurry.

So, I put my head down and dropped the hammer and hoped for the best. It's too bad, it seems like it would be pretty scenic during the day. You spend a fair amount of time riding along the ocean after you come down out of the mountains. At a quarter to midnight I found myself pulling into the hotel.

South: Part I

So, I don't know if it was because it was February 29th, or what, but I had a hell of a day last Friday. Let me preface this little tale by saying that getting my motorcycle into New Zealand has been a nightmare. Customs took possession of the bike around January 10th, if I remember correctly, which I may not BECAUSE IT WAS SO GOD DAMN LONG AGO. Customs had it for weeks and weeks, and every week they would call me and tell me that they needed more paperwork sent in, or a form filled out. I did everything they asked. I mean, you don't really have much of a choice. so after they've had the thing for about 6 weeks, it's finally released to VINZ, which is kind of the equivalent of the part of the DMV that deals with the car, so that it can be inspected and approved for a plate. I get a call from VINZ from a guy who was incensed that I would attempt to bring such a miserable excuse for a motorcycle into his country. He seemed to be taking it pretty personally. At this point, it's already been a huge issue, but now, it's taken so long to go through the process that my trip is coming up fast and I'm now under a time limit, so, off it goes to the bike shop for new front fork seals, a new front tire, disconnection of my headlight and brake light flashers and various and sundry other ticky-tack things. I'm supposed to leave for the South Island in 8 days . I'm told that everything should be done by Monday evening. Tuesday, I call, and get told end of tomorrow. The next day I get told Thursday. Thurs-fucking-day afternoon I get told tomorrow morning again. This is now officially a problem because I'm supposed to meet everyone at a cafe at 9:00 am the next day to get on the ferry. I've already paid for my ticket. Finally, finally, at 11:00 Friday I get a call from the bike shop. Eight fucking days and $750 later, they've sent the bike back to VINZ. I've called the ferry in the mean time to see about catching the 2:15 ferry. What the hell, right? I'll be a few hours behind. Well, I would be, if the 2:15 trip wasn't sold fucking out. The 6:00 ferry is not sold out, however so I make a reservation, not pay mind you, just reserve a spot for me and one motorcycle. Now I cal VINZ and ask how long it will take to do whatever it is they need to do to get me my motorcycle back before 4:00, so that I can be at the wharf by 5:00 to get on the 6:00 ferry. The man who takes vehicle importation into his country so personally informs me "maybe". I don't even know what the fuck it is that they need to do. Not too long after I get off the phone with VINZ, W gets a call and the same angry man informs her that VINZ is going to need the pink slip for the bike and the papers for shipping the bike to NZ from Japan and that there was no way I could get the bike back until I got them that paperwork. Which is interesting since the bike came from Southern California, and we had already couriered them the California title about two weeks before. W makes the call, and I agree, I threw my gear in the back of the Toyota and we drive up to Lower Hutt to see, exactly, what the fuck is going on.

Now I've left out quite a bit already, but to make a long story even shorter, the practical upshot was that they had misplaced the title and literally all that needed to be done was to give them my name and address, fill out one form and pay. That's it. This bureaucratic, dipshit, dumbass, lazy, big turd in a little bowl just couldn't find my title, and didn't want to be bothered to do his fucking job and find it. And that was the reason I was going to miss my trip? Fuck you Mr. VINZ guy. W got all up in some poor girl's grill that VINZ already had the damn title. A few minutes of looking and, imagine that, there it was. Forms filled out, another couple hundred in fees (what the hell, it's only money right? at this point I'm just watching the clock) and it's done. I am in posession of my motorcycle, but, am not out of the woods just yet.

I get gas, get back home, pack the gear, load the bike and head out. I figure it's not too bad, leave at 6:00 get to Picton at 9:00 get to Kaikoura by 10:30, which isn't bad, but isn't really great either, considering that I was suppoed to already be there. And since I only reserved a spot on the 6:00 boat I have to be there by 5:00 to pay, or they'll give my spot away, so if I don't get to the wharf by 5:00, the point, as they say, will be moot.

Phew, that's a hell of a back story, and I really did just hit the high points, and as you can see here ...

... I made it. In fact, I made it just in time to find out that the 6:00 ferry was running about forty five to fifty minutes behind. Are you kidding me? So I took off my motorcycle pants, rolled them up, used them as a pillow and laid down right there, right there on the pavement and took a nap, for about forty five minutes. Eventually we got on, motorcycles first. yay! It was kind of weird, there were bike spots ...

... and each spot had a chock for the front wheel, but you had to tie your bike down yourself ...

... all I could think of for the first hour of the boat ride was "jesus christ I hope I did a good job tying my bike down". All I needed was to come down when we got to Picton to find that my bike had spent the last three hours rolling around the car hold of the ferry. Or that the sheep had crapped all over it ...

... the hold was full of cows, sheep and stink. Yikes.

Well, since the only way the day could get any worse is if the god damn boat just got halfway across the Cook Straight and then up and fucking sank, I'm pretty grateful that finally, finally, I am on my way.

And only nine hours behind.