February 12, 2004
VELOCILUBE
In a dress rehearsal for my retirement years many years hence I removed 5 interior doorknobs this evening with the intention of lubricating them with Tri-Flow, the flagship lubricant of effete bicyclists (hey - why do you think we wear all the multi-colored Lycra? To attract chicks? Hell, no. We do it so we can get stomped by bikers at remote convenience stores).
No reason other than the fact I wanted those bitches to mesh like the gearbox of a Lamborghini Diablo. Imagine my chagrin when I discovered the can was empty. So, in a tight, I lubricated the innards with suede cleaner (any port...). Not too bad, not too good. Better than sheepishly screwing them back together with no treatment at all.
Why was this important? Because I refuse to die on the toilet like Elvis. I will have at least crawled my way to the litterbox before myocardial infarction rids my progeny of the pain of my existence.
It's the least I can do.
The most telling sign of Old Age? Day by Day bores you, but you find Earl in Pickles hilarious.
Fire at will.