The Extra "E" ...
5.5.2k1
I guess I'm a stupid asshole but I would naturally figure that a bunch of white-collar professionals would be more apt to clean up after themselves than a group of blue-collar painters, plastermen, carpenters, duct guys and electricians. Nope. Far from it. They're remodeling the office space across the hall from where I work and all the dot-com office dorks have been moved across town while the construction work gets done. I used to complain (Me? Complain? No!) ... used to complain about all the office fucks that peed all over the bathroom. It's a semi-public deal that has three urinals and two shitters. I'll be damned if the white-collar "pros" didn't piss all over every bit of real estate. Seats, wall, floors. Kinder-frikkin-garten. That irritated me on a daily basis. I put up signs: "If you are more than four years old, please lift the seat before you pee." Sign got torn down, but we got one them dee-lux xerox-ers there at the office. Made more signs. Didn't do any good, though. They "watered" that joint until the day they got moved. I shoulda figured it, though. Probably not one of them ever been on a date, let alone kiss a girl. I say this because you try that peein' on a girl's toilet seat you'll see how fast she hands you your hat and tells you to get the fuck out. For good. Even a bunch of shit-faced, videogame-playin', got-beat-up-every-day-at-school, never-kissed-a-girl losers would learn from that kinda reenforcement. You can bet the duct guys and them get one of their own trowells upside the head if they wet the seat. So here I am, thinking I ain't seen nothin' yet regarding trashed restrooms when construction starts and the workin-class joes are neat and tidy. Every one of 'em I've seen in the john washed up after doin' their business. That's more than I can say for them "internet" folk. I made a royal misjudgment. Because of this, I offer my sinscere apologies to all those working-class dudes that lift the seat and practice good aim and good personal hygene. Actually, I bet it has something to do with their collective bargaining agreements ...
Tonight: The Il Pirata
Here's the news: The mailing list is now working. Please take a moment to subscribe. The classic list will soon be retired. If you're confused as to why you have to subscribe again, well, don't worry about it. I chucked that list out. It had some problems. Bats in the belfry and such. New list = no bats. huh?
Tonight's venue has been chosen because the weather is, ulp, "great" and The Pirate has a patio. Oh, and parking. And Miller High Life. And UPS guys for all you lovely list members who can't keep your hands off UPS guys. Me, I likea the Miller myself.
Yeh, I think the Rant section has to go. Mebbe I'll try to defibrillate it with a TOPIC! Okey. Here's the topic: Your favorite cocktail. What is it? Why do you like it? How does it compare to the official TNSC cocktail: The White Russian?
Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Subscribe! There is a prize this week. You have to be present to win. I still owe Teensy her prize.
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: nix! JC plays nix!
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Al. Good luck. Or should you be wishing us good luck?
Okay, fine. You want to sit outside and drink yummy yummy booze? Me too. Cancel all other plans and get yer butts over to the Il Pirata. They have free hotdogs. mmmmmm. I expect a lot of "no-shows" and "career no-shows" to get over it and come out. I'll be the one throwing up on the raccoon. See you there! bye-ee!
Thursday, May 31, 2001
Thursday, May 24, 2001
Enlarged to show texture
5.4.2k1
"What was I thinking?"
I ask myself that a lot. When I think about it, I've been asking myself that for years.
"What was I thinking when ...
... I threw that rock?" (The smashed sliding-glass door really pissed everybody off.)
... I drove away?" (I used to drive.)
... I kissed that girl?" (No comment.)
... I lit that bicycle seat on fire?" (No lie. I lit a bike on fire.)
... I turned down that job?" (Sheesh. Things would be peachy.)
... I took that job?" (No comment.)
... I said that shit?" (Ugh. My big mouth gets me in some pretty deep holes.)
... I pissed off that rattlesnake?" (e-yep!)
... I drank the whole goddang thing?" (Said that a lot.)
... I ate the whole goddang thing?" (Said that a lot too.)
... I answered that door?"
... I called back?"
... I mailed the frikkin' thing in?"
... I spent so much dough on that piece of shit?"
... I didn't throw that thing out?".
Thinkin' up all that kinda soured my mood. Gotta think of something nice. Hmmmmm. Oh yeah. Starin' right at me. M&M's. Them suckers are crowd pleasers. Plain, peanut. You try them crispy ones yet? They're good! Contrary to their advertising, though, I can get 'em to melt in my hands. I don't hang on to them very long, either. Anyway ... I know you've all been desperate to know my M&M ritual ... so here ya go. Disclosed for the first time ... ever: Take four peanut M&M's of the same color (Very important to the ritual, them being the same color. Don't ask why). Pop one in your mouth and leave it there until the shell is all but gone and the chockey is soft. Then ya chew it up and repeat the process. Four M&M's is all you'll need. Here's the kicker. (It's kind of similar to "Beer Hunter.") You ritualistically eat the four M&M's, and while you're enjoying the candy portion of the experience, you're also trying to avoid the dreaded "tainted peanut". There's roughly one "tainted peanut" in every four peanut M&M's. The goal is to not let the "tainted peanut" be the last one you eat. So's you don't have the "tainted peanut" aftertaste. It really pisses me off to get the "tainted peanut" on the last one. Here's what doesn't piss me off:
Tonight: Zeitgeist
No news tonight, but Subscribe! and I'll try to get that thang workin'.
Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Contests tonight are the peanut M&M ritual and "Beer Hunter.*" *Participants please bring a six-pack.
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Finally enjoying relief from his bout with achey-breaky ass, Jeremy plays the catapult in tonight's dramatic reenactment of that dude in England who built that big-ass catapult and flings stuff all over his farm's pastures. Yes, that's right ... this eccentric farmer-engineer used medieval technology to build a catapult capable of throwing HEAVY objects many hundreds of yards down range. Our players: Jeremy = the catapult; (nameless) and Dee = the English countryside; Freshy = the nutty farmer. Playing the "things getting hurled:" Moss = grand piano; Chef = an outhouse; Bishop = a pickup truck; Mrs. Alan Chimenti = a flaming bale of hay; Jason = two hundred cases of Sierra Nevada (ick); and Big Dave Parker plays a palette of Costco crap (that nicely shrink-wrapped pile of snacks comes apart real nice when whipped into the stratosphere by that midieval catapult!).
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBERS: Two list members singled-out tonight: Chris Hamilton. Birthday. yay! Happy Bday, Chris. Gift ideas include: Chicken-leg-shaped tofu, fuel injectors, pledges, paperwork, IT professionals, handlebar tape and tickets to Shellac. Also singled-out: Bruce Newman. He has a dog named Homer.
Who likes beer and charcoal-barbecued hamburgeys? I do and I know all my friends do! Luck has it that tonight's venue has both! So cancel your alternate plans, grab your friends and haul ass over to Zeitgeist! Look for list members inside and outside! See you there! bye-ee!
5.4.2k1
"What was I thinking?"
I ask myself that a lot. When I think about it, I've been asking myself that for years.
"What was I thinking when ...
... I threw that rock?" (The smashed sliding-glass door really pissed everybody off.)
... I drove away?" (I used to drive.)
... I kissed that girl?" (No comment.)
... I lit that bicycle seat on fire?" (No lie. I lit a bike on fire.)
... I turned down that job?" (Sheesh. Things would be peachy.)
... I took that job?" (No comment.)
... I said that shit?" (Ugh. My big mouth gets me in some pretty deep holes.)
... I pissed off that rattlesnake?" (e-yep!)
... I drank the whole goddang thing?" (Said that a lot.)
... I ate the whole goddang thing?" (Said that a lot too.)
... I answered that door?"
... I called back?"
... I mailed the frikkin' thing in?"
... I spent so much dough on that piece of shit?"
... I didn't throw that thing out?".
Thinkin' up all that kinda soured my mood. Gotta think of something nice. Hmmmmm. Oh yeah. Starin' right at me. M&M's. Them suckers are crowd pleasers. Plain, peanut. You try them crispy ones yet? They're good! Contrary to their advertising, though, I can get 'em to melt in my hands. I don't hang on to them very long, either. Anyway ... I know you've all been desperate to know my M&M ritual ... so here ya go. Disclosed for the first time ... ever: Take four peanut M&M's of the same color (Very important to the ritual, them being the same color. Don't ask why). Pop one in your mouth and leave it there until the shell is all but gone and the chockey is soft. Then ya chew it up and repeat the process. Four M&M's is all you'll need. Here's the kicker. (It's kind of similar to "Beer Hunter.") You ritualistically eat the four M&M's, and while you're enjoying the candy portion of the experience, you're also trying to avoid the dreaded "tainted peanut". There's roughly one "tainted peanut" in every four peanut M&M's. The goal is to not let the "tainted peanut" be the last one you eat. So's you don't have the "tainted peanut" aftertaste. It really pisses me off to get the "tainted peanut" on the last one. Here's what doesn't piss me off:
Tonight: Zeitgeist
No news tonight, but Subscribe! and I'll try to get that thang workin'.
Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Contests tonight are the peanut M&M ritual and "Beer Hunter.*" *Participants please bring a six-pack.
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Finally enjoying relief from his bout with achey-breaky ass, Jeremy plays the catapult in tonight's dramatic reenactment of that dude in England who built that big-ass catapult and flings stuff all over his farm's pastures. Yes, that's right ... this eccentric farmer-engineer used medieval technology to build a catapult capable of throwing HEAVY objects many hundreds of yards down range. Our players: Jeremy = the catapult; (nameless) and Dee = the English countryside; Freshy = the nutty farmer. Playing the "things getting hurled:" Moss = grand piano; Chef = an outhouse; Bishop = a pickup truck; Mrs. Alan Chimenti = a flaming bale of hay; Jason = two hundred cases of Sierra Nevada (ick); and Big Dave Parker plays a palette of Costco crap (that nicely shrink-wrapped pile of snacks comes apart real nice when whipped into the stratosphere by that midieval catapult!).
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBERS: Two list members singled-out tonight: Chris Hamilton. Birthday. yay! Happy Bday, Chris. Gift ideas include: Chicken-leg-shaped tofu, fuel injectors, pledges, paperwork, IT professionals, handlebar tape and tickets to Shellac. Also singled-out: Bruce Newman. He has a dog named Homer.
Who likes beer and charcoal-barbecued hamburgeys? I do and I know all my friends do! Luck has it that tonight's venue has both! So cancel your alternate plans, grab your friends and haul ass over to Zeitgeist! Look for list members inside and outside! See you there! bye-ee!
Thursday, May 17, 2001
Gimme gimme
5.3.2k1
These days I'm walkin' down the street and I hear someone call my name ... I don't even look. Used to be I'd hear my name or something that kinda sounded like my name, I'd look. Each and every time I looked, it wasn't anybody I knew. They weren't even saying my name. "DOG!" Same vowel sound as "Josh!" Cars, busses, people walkin' by, all honkin', screeching tires, blowing exhaust; yelling, crying, begging for change or smokes, all talkin' about something. Lotta background noise in the city. Someone yells "Dog!" and I hear "Josh!" Used to look and see who was calling my name. Don't anymore. Not that I'm sick of hearing phantom "Josh!," I just know that they ain't talking to me. I don't even care if they are talking to me. That happened recently too. Founding Member Alan Chimenti was across the street with his lovely wife. They had just stepped out of "Cats," or "Stomp," or "Dent" or some kind of goddamn waste of time like that and I happened to be on my way back home from hockey practice. "Josh!" they yell. I hear "Dog!" and keep on going down the street.
"Josh!" "Josh!"
"Dog!" "Dog!"
It takes Mrs. Alan Chimenti to break the spell: "Goddamn it! Josh you asshole! Look over here!" I looked, waved, crossed the street and let the Chimentis buy me a drink or two at the Owl Tree. I'm a firm believer in learned behavior and I learned how to respond to swearing a long, long time ago. Pop didn't really mean "Get over here!" unless he punctuated it with "Goddamn it!" I still respond to swearing but you better be smiling or willing to buy me a few drinks at the Owl Tree ... after you cuss me out.
Tonight: Mr. Bings
News: Dee won last week's contest and I forgot her prize here at work. Der! Amy is new to the list. Speaking of the list, I'll keep it going for a while so you can subscribe to the Mailing List. I'll retire the manual list in a month or so. Oh! And I think I'm going to retire the Rant Section. Nobody rants. I know you have a lot to rant about. You just lazy?
Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Hell. Mr. Bings is a contest in itself.
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Jeremy is mostly recovered from the achey-breaky ass, so we'll postpone the DR another week. Jer wrote in: "Thanks to all List Members for the nice flowers and candy, and for your thoughtful cards. I'm touched that you took the time out of your busy schedules. (Shuba, I'm not one for fuzzy stuffed bunnys, but I sure appreciate it. The kids at the hospital like it a lot.) Alan, I really appreciated your visit. I didn't know you suffered the achey-breaky ass a year ago. I'm suprised that that restaurant is still in business, let alone that curry still being on the menu." We're glad you're on the road to recovery, Jer!
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Loretta. Miss Loretta gets to go to Zietgiest next week, okay? Mark your calendars and meet her there. She will be answering questions and signing autographs. Bring a Sharpie.
Mr. Bings? Why not? Sure it's a dive, but we're tough and their beer is cold. Who's in? Who's bringing their pals? I know I am/will! See you there! bye-ee!
5.3.2k1
These days I'm walkin' down the street and I hear someone call my name ... I don't even look. Used to be I'd hear my name or something that kinda sounded like my name, I'd look. Each and every time I looked, it wasn't anybody I knew. They weren't even saying my name. "DOG!" Same vowel sound as "Josh!" Cars, busses, people walkin' by, all honkin', screeching tires, blowing exhaust; yelling, crying, begging for change or smokes, all talkin' about something. Lotta background noise in the city. Someone yells "Dog!" and I hear "Josh!" Used to look and see who was calling my name. Don't anymore. Not that I'm sick of hearing phantom "Josh!," I just know that they ain't talking to me. I don't even care if they are talking to me. That happened recently too. Founding Member Alan Chimenti was across the street with his lovely wife. They had just stepped out of "Cats," or "Stomp," or "Dent" or some kind of goddamn waste of time like that and I happened to be on my way back home from hockey practice. "Josh!" they yell. I hear "Dog!" and keep on going down the street.
"Josh!" "Josh!"
"Dog!" "Dog!"
It takes Mrs. Alan Chimenti to break the spell: "Goddamn it! Josh you asshole! Look over here!" I looked, waved, crossed the street and let the Chimentis buy me a drink or two at the Owl Tree. I'm a firm believer in learned behavior and I learned how to respond to swearing a long, long time ago. Pop didn't really mean "Get over here!" unless he punctuated it with "Goddamn it!" I still respond to swearing but you better be smiling or willing to buy me a few drinks at the Owl Tree ... after you cuss me out.
Tonight: Mr. Bings
News: Dee won last week's contest and I forgot her prize here at work. Der! Amy is new to the list. Speaking of the list, I'll keep it going for a while so you can subscribe to the Mailing List. I'll retire the manual list in a month or so. Oh! And I think I'm going to retire the Rant Section. Nobody rants. I know you have a lot to rant about. You just lazy?
Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Hell. Mr. Bings is a contest in itself.
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Jeremy is mostly recovered from the achey-breaky ass, so we'll postpone the DR another week. Jer wrote in: "Thanks to all List Members for the nice flowers and candy, and for your thoughtful cards. I'm touched that you took the time out of your busy schedules. (Shuba, I'm not one for fuzzy stuffed bunnys, but I sure appreciate it. The kids at the hospital like it a lot.) Alan, I really appreciated your visit. I didn't know you suffered the achey-breaky ass a year ago. I'm suprised that that restaurant is still in business, let alone that curry still being on the menu." We're glad you're on the road to recovery, Jer!
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Loretta. Miss Loretta gets to go to Zietgiest next week, okay? Mark your calendars and meet her there. She will be answering questions and signing autographs. Bring a Sharpie.
Mr. Bings? Why not? Sure it's a dive, but we're tough and their beer is cold. Who's in? Who's bringing their pals? I know I am/will! See you there! bye-ee!
Thursday, May 10, 2001
Not all mushrooms ...
5.2.2k1
Which one of you lovely List Members has a journal that you'd like to share with the group? I figure some or all of you have some pretty great stories. The great thing about a journal is the "as it is happening" phenomenon. You got a date, you got a story. "15 July 1987. What a bummer. I went to see Love and Rockets and that babe Caroline was there. Dang I want to kiss her ... " Later you look back at your journal and maybe you never kissed her, ever, or you kissed her a week later and she was a terrible kisser. Or a great kisser and you dated her all summer, only to get dumped for the joker that played the Scarecrow in the school's rendition of "The Wiz." My point is that the date is the key. Mebbe you remember that you had a great chili dog a few summers back, but yer journal sez: "31 August '96. Had the best goddamn chili dog ... ever!" and now it ain't a few summers, it's exactly ... er ... a lot of days ago. Yeh, well ... Okay. Now here's what I really like: The events you don't need a journal to remind you of the dates. I remember exactly what I was doing nine years ago today. I was having drinks. A lot of them. The difference is that I was all dressed up in a suit and getting smashed at a fancy restaurant in downtown Chicago with my best friends and family. I had me a cap and gown and a little later - still pretty well oiled, mind you - this Jesuit priest handed over a diploma. That's right, I done grad-ye-ated me from college nine years ago today. I remember it like it was yesterday. That's an expression that's always bugged me but sometimes it's appropriate. It snowed overnight and early in the morning, but at noon it was pushing 80 (WILD temp fluctuations in Spring in Chi) and all the snow was melting. It was something else. Anyhoo ... it occurs to me that I haven't been in a classroom for nine years. No more teachers, dirty looks, books, pencils and such. That rules! Those obnoxious "taking a test you're not ready for" dreams have all but gone away too. When I do have one, though, I've been able to work my way through it. I'm all stressed because I know I haven't studied for the sucker and I go in and sit down anyway, and start writing a bunch of nonsense in the blue book then think - hey! I'm not IN SCHOOL anymore, dammit! I don't have to take this dumb test. ha! That's a treat.
Tonight: Annie's
News: Bruce is new to the list. Welcome Bruce! Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Hey! The subscription routine was so fun the Founding Members have decided to run it all over again! The original list was scrapped so we could do this. The new list is called venue-announcement@therein-lies.com PLEASE SIGN UP AGAIN to qualify to win a valuable prize. Click this link here, then send the email message and you're signed up! Yay!
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Tonight's Dramatic Reenactment is cancelled due to illness. Jeremy has an achey-breaky ass and he was to play the catapult. It will return next week.
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Dee. I figure she'll forget the dough I owe her if I do her the Supreme Honor of singling her out. Thanks Dee!
Aw heck. Miss Annie will be so happy to see us! It's been a while. Remember the Juke? Awesome. Come see the awarding of the prize to the contest winner. Bring yer friends. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
5.2.2k1
Which one of you lovely List Members has a journal that you'd like to share with the group? I figure some or all of you have some pretty great stories. The great thing about a journal is the "as it is happening" phenomenon. You got a date, you got a story. "15 July 1987. What a bummer. I went to see Love and Rockets and that babe Caroline was there. Dang I want to kiss her ... " Later you look back at your journal and maybe you never kissed her, ever, or you kissed her a week later and she was a terrible kisser. Or a great kisser and you dated her all summer, only to get dumped for the joker that played the Scarecrow in the school's rendition of "The Wiz." My point is that the date is the key. Mebbe you remember that you had a great chili dog a few summers back, but yer journal sez: "31 August '96. Had the best goddamn chili dog ... ever!" and now it ain't a few summers, it's exactly ... er ... a lot of days ago. Yeh, well ... Okay. Now here's what I really like: The events you don't need a journal to remind you of the dates. I remember exactly what I was doing nine years ago today. I was having drinks. A lot of them. The difference is that I was all dressed up in a suit and getting smashed at a fancy restaurant in downtown Chicago with my best friends and family. I had me a cap and gown and a little later - still pretty well oiled, mind you - this Jesuit priest handed over a diploma. That's right, I done grad-ye-ated me from college nine years ago today. I remember it like it was yesterday. That's an expression that's always bugged me but sometimes it's appropriate. It snowed overnight and early in the morning, but at noon it was pushing 80 (WILD temp fluctuations in Spring in Chi) and all the snow was melting. It was something else. Anyhoo ... it occurs to me that I haven't been in a classroom for nine years. No more teachers, dirty looks, books, pencils and such. That rules! Those obnoxious "taking a test you're not ready for" dreams have all but gone away too. When I do have one, though, I've been able to work my way through it. I'm all stressed because I know I haven't studied for the sucker and I go in and sit down anyway, and start writing a bunch of nonsense in the blue book then think - hey! I'm not IN SCHOOL anymore, dammit! I don't have to take this dumb test. ha! That's a treat.
Tonight: Annie's
News: Bruce is new to the list. Welcome Bruce! Remember, list members, send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Hey! The subscription routine was so fun the Founding Members have decided to run it all over again! The original list was scrapped so we could do this. The new list is called venue-announcement@therein-lies.com PLEASE SIGN UP AGAIN to qualify to win a valuable prize. Click this link here, then send the email message and you're signed up! Yay!
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Tonight's Dramatic Reenactment is cancelled due to illness. Jeremy has an achey-breaky ass and he was to play the catapult. It will return next week.
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Dee. I figure she'll forget the dough I owe her if I do her the Supreme Honor of singling her out. Thanks Dee!
Aw heck. Miss Annie will be so happy to see us! It's been a while. Remember the Juke? Awesome. Come see the awarding of the prize to the contest winner. Bring yer friends. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
Thursday, May 03, 2001
Intruder Alert.
5.1.2k1
I'm just fixin' to leave for work, see, and some car horn starts goin.' I mean it; it started up loud and kept going. I'm sure the car was a big one, too. The horn was beefy: A low, mean rumbling that would probably do well on a boat or a tractor-trailer. One of them horns that the tones varied while held down. It just might deafen children. A bus driver would hear that horn. Yeah, so, this thing starts and I'm thinking this guy's a jackass. Whether he's picking someone up and "using the doorbell," or he's berating some dumbass who cut him off he's a jackass. I don't much care for folks who really don't give a crap about other people. This goddamn horn could wake the dead, by god. When the thing doesn't stop, though, I pause. Maybe this guy's not being a dick. Maybe his horn's stuck. (That happened to me once. I won't get into it.) He's had a malfunction and the dang thing's stuck. I'm sure this is the case after a while 'cause it k e e p s g o i n g. No way he's that rude. Few minutes later I got my shoes tied and I'm out the door and he's still honking. I actually feel badly for this poor guy who's horn is stuck and is undoubtedly pissing off the entire neighborhood. When I see him I'll give him a nod that says "Sorry yer horn is stuck, dude. I know what it's like." Down on the street I do see him. And you know what? His horn ain't stuck. He's double-parked out in front of the apartment across the street and he's honking for someone to come down. Big 'ol Delta 88 cruising vessel with a navy surplus horn and he's laying on it. Fok. Teach me to give these shitters the benefit of the doubt.
Tonight: POW!
News: 5.1.2k1 is upon us and this Venue Announcement is going out only to those subscribed to the list. To hell with the rest of 'em. It'll be a cozy 20-person drinking club from now on.
Send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Bus Window Etching
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Bobby Allison's crash at Talladega. Today in 1987 Davey Allison won the Winston 500 in Talladega, Alabama. His father Bobby, in the same race, blew a rear tire and his car spetacularly flipped into the grandstand at over 200 mph. The speed of the car was significant in it making it over (through) the retaining wall and fence and into the grandstand. This wreck led to the Introduction of Carburetor Plates in NASCAR Cars. The carburetor plate was NASCAR's answer to cars reaching plus-200 mph speeds, as they restricted the fuel intake of the engine. Our players: Mrs. Alan Chimenti is the racetrack at Talladega, AL; Moss is Bobby Allison, Amy is his car; Kathleen is the carburetor plate; Matt Brown is the retaining fence; and Tama, Jason and Todd are the race fans running for their lives.
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Rosey. He's subscribed and tele-drink-clubbing.
Give yer asses a rest and get over to Pow tonight. There's dope, pizza and porn nearby if yer intrested in that. Bring yer pals. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
5.1.2k1
I'm just fixin' to leave for work, see, and some car horn starts goin.' I mean it; it started up loud and kept going. I'm sure the car was a big one, too. The horn was beefy: A low, mean rumbling that would probably do well on a boat or a tractor-trailer. One of them horns that the tones varied while held down. It just might deafen children. A bus driver would hear that horn. Yeah, so, this thing starts and I'm thinking this guy's a jackass. Whether he's picking someone up and "using the doorbell," or he's berating some dumbass who cut him off he's a jackass. I don't much care for folks who really don't give a crap about other people. This goddamn horn could wake the dead, by god. When the thing doesn't stop, though, I pause. Maybe this guy's not being a dick. Maybe his horn's stuck. (That happened to me once. I won't get into it.) He's had a malfunction and the dang thing's stuck. I'm sure this is the case after a while 'cause it k e e p s g o i n g. No way he's that rude. Few minutes later I got my shoes tied and I'm out the door and he's still honking. I actually feel badly for this poor guy who's horn is stuck and is undoubtedly pissing off the entire neighborhood. When I see him I'll give him a nod that says "Sorry yer horn is stuck, dude. I know what it's like." Down on the street I do see him. And you know what? His horn ain't stuck. He's double-parked out in front of the apartment across the street and he's honking for someone to come down. Big 'ol Delta 88 cruising vessel with a navy surplus horn and he's laying on it. Fok. Teach me to give these shitters the benefit of the doubt.
Tonight: POW!
News: 5.1.2k1 is upon us and this Venue Announcement is going out only to those subscribed to the list. To hell with the rest of 'em. It'll be a cozy 20-person drinking club from now on.
Send your non-public comments to: tnsc@therein-lies.com
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Bus Window Etching
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Bobby Allison's crash at Talladega. Today in 1987 Davey Allison won the Winston 500 in Talladega, Alabama. His father Bobby, in the same race, blew a rear tire and his car spetacularly flipped into the grandstand at over 200 mph. The speed of the car was significant in it making it over (through) the retaining wall and fence and into the grandstand. This wreck led to the Introduction of Carburetor Plates in NASCAR Cars. The carburetor plate was NASCAR's answer to cars reaching plus-200 mph speeds, as they restricted the fuel intake of the engine. Our players: Mrs. Alan Chimenti is the racetrack at Talladega, AL; Moss is Bobby Allison, Amy is his car; Kathleen is the carburetor plate; Matt Brown is the retaining fence; and Tama, Jason and Todd are the race fans running for their lives.
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Rosey. He's subscribed and tele-drink-clubbing.
Give yer asses a rest and get over to Pow tonight. There's dope, pizza and porn nearby if yer intrested in that. Bring yer pals. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
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