Maybe I wasn't paying attention or it could have been that ominous patch of "black Ice" everyone seems to have run into at some point but whatever the cause I was spinning out of control in the middle of downtown Tilton, NH USA and I was gonna wreck.
Just another wonderful Monday morning for your humble mind burner.
So yeah, there I was, driving to work this past Monday in the middle of our first Winter Storm, the roads were terrible, the drivers on these said roads even worse. When I had reached the center of downtown Tilton, my Nissan decided to spin out, sending me careening ass backwards towards the large concrete structure with the statue of some long lost Indian Princess or some shit. Did I mention I was topping speeds of @ least 20 mph!
I did not panic though. No, not I. Many times have I found myself driving a completely unreliable, non-winter vehicle through blizzards and winter whiteouts. This was all old hat to me so no, I did not panic. I just went for the ride.
And laid off the brakes of course.
So I spun, did a 180 degree turn and slid up into the snow packed against the side of the previously mentioned concrete Inuit child and smacked my front right bumper off of it.
Phew, that was close. Luckily no one was coming in either direction so there was no collision and I hurriedly pulled out, and drove against traffic to pull into a Gas Station parking lot to catch my breath. I surveyed the damage and just another small dent and scratch to add to the growing collection. A little warpaint rub from Miss Hiawatha.
I hopped back into my car and hoped I would still make it to work on time. I shifted into drive and gunned it.
I didn't move. The tires spun uselessly.
I was now stuck in the Gas Station parking lot. It seems they hadn't really plowed and my 300zx couldn't manage itself out of 5 inches of snow.
My goose was cooked, I was gonna be late no doubt about it and all this after looking death square in the face and escaping nary a scratch.
Foiled by the incompetence of the Big Apple store management team.
Of course the Big Apple people were nice enough to let me use their snow shovel and after 30 minutes of shoveling and maneuvering I was able to escape the unplowed parking lot and make my way towards work.
Late as hell but alive. Now at this point all I wanted to do was listen to the weather and then the news on my radio and try and avoid all the mouth breathing idiots on the road who act like they have never seen a snowflake in their life. They are driving goddamn Lincoln Navigators and going 5 MPH with the hazard lights on. I want to strangle these people. Pull them out of their behemoth's and smash them over the head with their Tom Toms and their rear seat DVD players.
But I just wanted the Weather. I clicked on my ancient Tape Deck/AM FM factory stereo (circa 1988) and found these choices.
The FM band had stopped working completely. For some unknown reason the FM band had worked off and on and now was completely void of any signal. It was like War of the Worlds and all communications had stopped. Wolfman Jack and the Morning Zoo had been vaporized.
On the AM side the screeching, garbled mess of noise that emanates from that band was enough to make you claw your eyes out and force feed them to the Lincoln Navigator driver. Every time I accelerate the whining noise rose and fell with every accelerator push. Turn on the heat and the static increases tenfold. Adjust the power mirrors and 840 AM burps, belches and farts a barely audible Elvis singing about his "shwooo shwade shoos".
Just utter bullshit.
The fossilized tape deck had offered some comfort in the form of my Mp3 player and a Tape adaptor but the chore or loading, reloading, charging and carrying the damn thing everywhere was becoming a nuisance and not worth the effort.
So I made a decision to get Sirius on my radios ass.
Of course I am referring to Sirius Satellite Radio. With my $15 Walmart gift card in hand, (thanks Work, my completely underwhelming thanksgiving treat will actually come in handy) I walked into the big stinky W and out with a new Sirius Radio and only $13 lighter in the pocket.
I only had 20 minutes left on my lunch break but the install was so fast and easy I still had time to scarf down a Wendy's JR Bacon Cheeseburger.(Thanks Dave, for my ever expanding waistline and my oh so sweet man boobage).
After installing the sleek little unit and trying my best to hide the wires I hopped online for the activation. "Only $12.95 a month" the little Sirius space dog barked on the radios package.
Hey for less than $30 dollars of my own cash I would finally have a huge orgy of programming choices including my old pal Howard Stern and oodles of commercial free music.
How could a guy who drives a 1988 Nissan with a tape deck turn down that awesomeness??
After entering my info including my age, sex, religion, sexual preferences and the approximate number of bowel movements I have in a month I got to the billing section.
The $12.95 a month option had magically disappeared. There was some lifetime subscription for $470,000 dollars and your first born and a year long choice with a mention of a free subscription to PudTugger magazine or some such nonsense but no monthly option. Also, you had to keep flipping through options to reach the cheaper choices until finally the lowest option was 3 months for $38. All this while making me feel like a welfare case. I was waiting for the little Sirius dog to pop up and accuse me of starving his little pups to death cuz I was too cheap to man up and subscribe for a zillion years.
So now I'm in for 3 months and 38 more bucks. Then I finally reach the checkout and they covertly added a $15 activation fee. If the Sirius dog had popped up at this point I would have curb stomped him Micheal Vick style.
My wondrous $30 dollar day of Radio had now turned into nearly $6o.
Fuckers.
In all fairness though I love the service and actually look forward to my drives to and from work now. Howard in the morning, all the music I can shake my ass too and tons of news and sports. All in awesome tape deck audio sound! (Actually it sounds great, the tape deck is actually the second best sound option even better then the FM band. Fuck you Wolfman Jack)
So if you have @ least $60 bucks to blow and you drive a shitty old car like me I recommend making the jump to Satellite radio. Terrestrial radio is such a barren wasteland of 10 minute commercial breaks and mass produced pop bullshit and the same fucking Peter Frampton song over and over and over...........
Shit, I bet even the Navigator drivers are upgrading to Satellite.
Then a friend told me most all new vehicles come pre-equipped with Satellite Radios integrated into their systems. My Mother even got a free month of XM when she bought her Pontiac Solstice.
All I could say was, "Are you Fuckin Sirius????"
I could have just bought a Lincoln Navigator and avoided the hassle??.
Aw, Shucks.
love and kisses,
Justin
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
LSD, Madden 07 and Me
by Jay Mohr
Courtesy of FoxSports.com
This past year my wife and I were dosed at a restaurant. By "dosed" I mean we were drugged. It was a Mexican restaurant that I won't name — but it rhymes with Tel Jurrito. Judging by the way the parking lot of the restaurant was breathing; we both guessed that it was LSD. We both initially panicked. We went home for safety. My wife had a tough time riding it out.
I played Madden and it saved my life.
Neither my wife nor I do drugs. Neither one of us knew what an acid trip was like, but on that afternoon in the San Fernando Valley, we found out in a hurry. It started shortly after we paid our bill and tipped 20 percent (always!). We both started to sweat and get nervous. My wife kept asking me if I thought it was hot in the restaurant, I told her yes and then started wondering, "How does she know that it's hot in the restaurant?!"
I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Forty minutes later my wife stuck her head in the men's room and asked me if I was okay. Considering I was just sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, taking my pulse over and over again, I quickly surmised that I was not okay.
text-decoration:underline;We decided to go to the store on the way home and get something to drink. My wife grabbed a few bottles of Coke Zero and I grabbed a two-liter bottle of Sunkist. I held it toward the heavens and exclaimed, "Look how ORANGE this is!" Mrs. Mohr said, "I don't like it, it's hurting my eyes!" When I yelled back, "I want to swim in it!" we froze, looked each other in the eye and realized we needed to get home as quickly as possible.
Not being able to tell the difference between taillights and red lights, I stopped for them both. Three hours into what was normally a 10-minute trip, we pulled into our driveway. My bride decided to crawl into bed and try and read a book.
I broke out the Madden '07.
I have always heard people who have done a lot of LSD say that you have to "ride the snake" and "don't let the snake ride you." I rode the snake all the way to The Meadowlands where I was the Jets playing at home against the Chiefs. It was a beautiful day for football. I was tripping my face off and the temperature was 52 degrees.
As Mike Nugent launched the opening kickoff towards Dante Hall, my wife shouted from the bedroom, "Honey, how do you feel?" My answer was, "GREAT!" And I was. The Chiefs wore red and white and the Jets wore white and green. Shaun Ellis wore number 92 and Kerry Rhodes wore number 25. Just like in real life.
A half hour later, I heard from the bedroom, "I am still kind of freaking out!" Not me. I was fine. Four hours into my first acid trip and I had found a safe place ... the Jets' huddle. Everything in this virtual world was just as I desperately needed it.
Chad Pennington wore No. 10 and Laveranues Coles caught anything that was near him. All the plays in the playbook were the same as when I wasn't tripping and all the players were just how I remembered them. Adrian Jones was useless for pass blocking. Tight ends worked wonderfully for me in the red zone. And the Chiefs couldn't stop the run against a Pop Warner team.
Pennington still had a weak arm and after he threw an interception I slammed my head set down on the ground and began screaming at the assistant coaches around me. As I started to ask Chad what the hell he was thinking, my wife hollered from the other room, 'Honey who are you yelling at?' I didn't really have an answer for her ... I meekly replied, "my coaches" and stared down at my fingers. Then I had a revelation! When you play Madden, your fingers are your coaches! Wow, was I HIGH!
For the love of God, please go out and buy your Madden '08 Tuesday. It might save your life. You never know when you might get slipped a mickey and find yourself listening to the Black Crowes, white knuckling a 55-yard field goal attempt as the walls of your house melt around you.
I am going to get my Madden tomorrow and I'm suddenly craving enchiladas.
EA SPORTS, "Madden. Ride the snake."
Best of lucky, Jay Mohr
Courtesy of FoxSports.com
This past year my wife and I were dosed at a restaurant. By "dosed" I mean we were drugged. It was a Mexican restaurant that I won't name — but it rhymes with Tel Jurrito. Judging by the way the parking lot of the restaurant was breathing; we both guessed that it was LSD. We both initially panicked. We went home for safety. My wife had a tough time riding it out.
I played Madden and it saved my life.
Neither my wife nor I do drugs. Neither one of us knew what an acid trip was like, but on that afternoon in the San Fernando Valley, we found out in a hurry. It started shortly after we paid our bill and tipped 20 percent (always!). We both started to sweat and get nervous. My wife kept asking me if I thought it was hot in the restaurant, I told her yes and then started wondering, "How does she know that it's hot in the restaurant?!"
I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Forty minutes later my wife stuck her head in the men's room and asked me if I was okay. Considering I was just sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, taking my pulse over and over again, I quickly surmised that I was not okay.
text-decoration:underline;We decided to go to the store on the way home and get something to drink. My wife grabbed a few bottles of Coke Zero and I grabbed a two-liter bottle of Sunkist. I held it toward the heavens and exclaimed, "Look how ORANGE this is!" Mrs. Mohr said, "I don't like it, it's hurting my eyes!" When I yelled back, "I want to swim in it!" we froze, looked each other in the eye and realized we needed to get home as quickly as possible.
Not being able to tell the difference between taillights and red lights, I stopped for them both. Three hours into what was normally a 10-minute trip, we pulled into our driveway. My bride decided to crawl into bed and try and read a book.
I broke out the Madden '07.
I have always heard people who have done a lot of LSD say that you have to "ride the snake" and "don't let the snake ride you." I rode the snake all the way to The Meadowlands where I was the Jets playing at home against the Chiefs. It was a beautiful day for football. I was tripping my face off and the temperature was 52 degrees.
As Mike Nugent launched the opening kickoff towards Dante Hall, my wife shouted from the bedroom, "Honey, how do you feel?" My answer was, "GREAT!" And I was. The Chiefs wore red and white and the Jets wore white and green. Shaun Ellis wore number 92 and Kerry Rhodes wore number 25. Just like in real life.
A half hour later, I heard from the bedroom, "I am still kind of freaking out!" Not me. I was fine. Four hours into my first acid trip and I had found a safe place ... the Jets' huddle. Everything in this virtual world was just as I desperately needed it.
Chad Pennington wore No. 10 and Laveranues Coles caught anything that was near him. All the plays in the playbook were the same as when I wasn't tripping and all the players were just how I remembered them. Adrian Jones was useless for pass blocking. Tight ends worked wonderfully for me in the red zone. And the Chiefs couldn't stop the run against a Pop Warner team.
Pennington still had a weak arm and after he threw an interception I slammed my head set down on the ground and began screaming at the assistant coaches around me. As I started to ask Chad what the hell he was thinking, my wife hollered from the other room, 'Honey who are you yelling at?' I didn't really have an answer for her ... I meekly replied, "my coaches" and stared down at my fingers. Then I had a revelation! When you play Madden, your fingers are your coaches! Wow, was I HIGH!
For the love of God, please go out and buy your Madden '08 Tuesday. It might save your life. You never know when you might get slipped a mickey and find yourself listening to the Black Crowes, white knuckling a 55-yard field goal attempt as the walls of your house melt around you.
I am going to get my Madden tomorrow and I'm suddenly craving enchiladas.
EA SPORTS, "Madden. Ride the snake."
Best of lucky, Jay Mohr
Monday, March 19, 2007
"We call it riding the gravy train..."
I love finding old mix Cd's from like 2001 @ the height of Napster and when all music was free and Lars Ulrich was just still half a fag.
I just started a 2001 mix featuring Foo Fighters covering "Have a Cigar" by Pink Floyd and now Kittie is singing sweet metal harmonies to me in the form of "Charlotte."
Let's see I have Feb. 2003 mix. Should be some gems on that. Oooh, Mix 2002 is all this one says. Seems to be a hastily cobbled mix @ that. Probably one I made as I was getting ready to hit route 128 in Saugus heading to work or was I on the road to Wyoming then? Who knows. I don't remember. So many CD'rs, so many jobs. Hehehe.
Oooof. Limp Bizkit. Well, c'mon forgive me alright? EVERYONE loved "Nookie" and "Break Stuff". At least for that 1 summer.
"Its all about that he said/she says, bullshit!".
Apparently Fred Durst packs chainsaws and he will skin your ass raw. Oh Fred, you are a silly bitch.
Hells Yeah, Pantera tears it up! RIP Dimebag Darrell. I think I am getting a raging head banging hard on right now. They tried to Reinvent the Steel that year but all the homo's bought Limp Bizkit instead.
Fuck You, I bought both.
Track 6, radio edit of "Judith" by A Perfect Circle right before the album came out with the DJ talking @ the end.
Sevendust, Filter-"Hey Man Nice Shot" Re-Mix, Godsmack, More Kittie, Tommy Lee, some Nu-Metal bands I cant remember and we finish it all off with some Live Tool! Not too shabby for 2001. Most of the songs still stand up and more surprising that the scratched to shit Memorex CDR did too. Blue bottom even!
So, its on to see what the other faded and scratched CDR's hold. What was I cranking back in the years before everyone had 20GB's of tunes in their Ipod to call up on demand.
Sometimes it is fun to look back.
I guess today turned out to be one of 'em.
P.S-HAHA, I put a hidden track on this CD, i think its called "Now your a Man" by Trey Parker from the film "Orgazmo" by the South Park guys. If you know it you'd be laughing, if not, look it up if you can.
I leave you with a sample lyric "What makes a man? Is it the women in his arms, just cause she has big titties?. Or is it the way, he fights every-day?....No, its probably the titties..!"
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Round '07*
Booya. '07 in the hizz ouse.
Remember when your parents told you to enjoy your youth? To slow down and take a breath because those were our best years. We didn't listen. What the hell did they know? We ignored them and spent our days wasting it away playing Super Mario Bros. and dry humping anyone who would let you within groping distance.
Well I did anyway.
They knew. They knew that getting old sucks and that hours turn into days and days turn into years and years turn into back pains and polyp's and stretch marks and receding hair lines.
They knew but we didn't listen. We blew off school and slept all day and smoked dope and listened to Public Enemy when they sang"...Fight The Power!" and read comics and watched Rambo kick ass and jerked off to Cinemax even if it was scrambled.
Well I did anyway.
Some of you are saying huh? Wasn't Rambo like a knife or something and who the hell is "Public Enemy" and since when did you have to resort to scrambled Cinemax to jerk off? I just go online and type "Tits" into Google Images.
Now don't some of you feel old like me? Anyone? Anyone? "Bueller"? <---(another one that gets queer looks from 18 year olds.)
Its 2007 and do we really know what we are doing? When I was 16 I was a rebel and I knew for damn sure but now?
All I know is unless I am @ work or having a rectal exam, time flies and before I know it Green Day will be a Vegas Act and no one will have any idea who won "American Idol" last year. Actually I don't fuckin know who won last year and I don't give a shit.
Hey..maybe I am still kinda "Fighting the Power!" you know? Still rebelling a little as I get older. Yeah man. That's it, I'm going back to my roots. I am sleeping in tomorrow and gonna do Bong Hits for breakfast and call out of work.
Hell yeah....oh shit my back hurts and its nearly 8 pm. I got to go to bed so I can get up for work tomorrow. I cant miss any time the Boss will kill me. I think my girlfriend just caught me watching that Playboy Bunny show and she will probably kill me when she finds out I ate the last 17 of her Vicodans she had prescribed for the muscle tear she has. Its the couch for me for sure.
Damn, wonder if I can still tune in that Cinemax.......,
J to the K to the A
*the writer doesn't feel that old and his girlfriend doesn't have a muscle tear and she certainly wouldn't be angry if he watched Playboy Bunnies but he has been known to eat mass quantities of pills and one time he did admit to knowing who won "American Idol".
Then he smashed his testicles with a hot spatula as penance.
We forgave him.
Remember when your parents told you to enjoy your youth? To slow down and take a breath because those were our best years. We didn't listen. What the hell did they know? We ignored them and spent our days wasting it away playing Super Mario Bros. and dry humping anyone who would let you within groping distance.
Well I did anyway.
They knew. They knew that getting old sucks and that hours turn into days and days turn into years and years turn into back pains and polyp's and stretch marks and receding hair lines.
They knew but we didn't listen. We blew off school and slept all day and smoked dope and listened to Public Enemy when they sang"...Fight The Power!" and read comics and watched Rambo kick ass and jerked off to Cinemax even if it was scrambled.
Well I did anyway.
Some of you are saying huh? Wasn't Rambo like a knife or something and who the hell is "Public Enemy" and since when did you have to resort to scrambled Cinemax to jerk off? I just go online and type "Tits" into Google Images.
Now don't some of you feel old like me? Anyone? Anyone? "Bueller"? <---(another one that gets queer looks from 18 year olds.)
Its 2007 and do we really know what we are doing? When I was 16 I was a rebel and I knew for damn sure but now?
All I know is unless I am @ work or having a rectal exam, time flies and before I know it Green Day will be a Vegas Act and no one will have any idea who won "American Idol" last year. Actually I don't fuckin know who won last year and I don't give a shit.
Hey..maybe I am still kinda "Fighting the Power!" you know? Still rebelling a little as I get older. Yeah man. That's it, I'm going back to my roots. I am sleeping in tomorrow and gonna do Bong Hits for breakfast and call out of work.
Hell yeah....oh shit my back hurts and its nearly 8 pm. I got to go to bed so I can get up for work tomorrow. I cant miss any time the Boss will kill me. I think my girlfriend just caught me watching that Playboy Bunny show and she will probably kill me when she finds out I ate the last 17 of her Vicodans she had prescribed for the muscle tear she has. Its the couch for me for sure.
Damn, wonder if I can still tune in that Cinemax.......,
J to the K to the A
*the writer doesn't feel that old and his girlfriend doesn't have a muscle tear and she certainly wouldn't be angry if he watched Playboy Bunnies but he has been known to eat mass quantities of pills and one time he did admit to knowing who won "American Idol".
Then he smashed his testicles with a hot spatula as penance.
We forgave him.
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