3/6/2015 WDT NSFW

I hate it when I'm with somebody who doesn't know what's going on around them. I'm constantly telling them to watch out or get out of the way. My mom is the worst, I can't go anywhere with her without feeling like I'm babysitting her.

I'm drinking White Russians tonight in honor of Day of the Dude. These things are good.

 

I saw a guy driving a '55 (or so) Chevy Nomad on the highway today. It looked like a big hunk of junk, but was running and driving great! I told my wife: I'm cool with an old car that might break down...but an airplane? Not so much! I hope he's doing ok and makes a speedy recovery.

 

Apparently White Russians make me do the following:
-post a lot of stupid shit on Facebook with Big Lebowski quotes in hashtags. (who does that?)
-post old school songs to an old high school friends' timeline (remember when it used to be on their profile?)
-have sex with my husband (that's not as rare of an occasion as he makes it seem like.)

Did you guys know that I still remember all the words to this song?

Spoiler

 

That's been the "Thing" in the hot rod community for a number of years. They're called Rat Rods. Folks got tired of the overdone $100K street rods and started building cars that looked like shit out of left over parts, that were mechanically perfect.

Now the idiots have taken it to the level that they pay a fortune to have fake patina paint jobs. To make their cars look like shit. And they'll sink $100K into a car that looks like it's about to fall apart, because...I have no fucking idea.

I built a few what would be called rat rods today when I was a kid. Not because it was cool, but because I was a fucking kid working at a gas station making $3 an hour and that's what I could afford. Except mine weren't mechanically perfect, they were fucking scary death traps.

One that comes to mind was a '37 Plymouth Coupe in primer with a 300 horse/350 Chevy in it. I'd warmed the engine over with headers, an intake and Holley. I stuck a '64 T-Bird rear end under it and sort of rebuilt the stock front end and brakes. The interior consisted of a set of bucket seats I'd pulled out of a '68 GTO in a wrecking yard. That was the interior. All of it. No gauges. No carpet. No headliner. No door panels. No door or window cranks. Hell, there was no glass in the doors.

The best part? The first few times I drove it there was no gas pedal. I was so anxious to drive it, I hooked a piece of electrical wire to the carburetor, ran it through the firewall and used my hand to throttle it instead of my foot. This was a problem because I was 16 years old and not exactly an ace mechanic, so the engine would want to die unless I was constantly yanking on the cable fucking with the revs. And you can't do this at a stoplight with the vehicle in gear, but my right hand was occupied trying to keep the engine fed. What to do? I had to have a buddy with me to operate the shifter.

And then there were the brakes. Or lack thereof. The front was semi rebuilt 1937 Plymouth, the rear 1964 Ford. The master cylinder was a booster/mc from a wrecked 1979 Oldsmobile. Because power brakes are good right? Yeah, not so much. Apparently it was beyond my 16year old abilities to make these parts mesh and work properly. They worked, sort of. I'd be pumping the brakes like mad trying to get them to do something resembling braking, yelling at my buddy to knock the shifter in to neutral, steering , and yanking on my throttle cable so the car didn't die in the middle of traffic.

And apparently now, this is cool.

Come to think of it, it was pretty fucking cool back then too.

Not $100K worth of cool though. I paid $25 for that Plymouth when I drug it out of the woods, and all told maybe had $1200 in to it. Including about $600 in tires and wheels. I ended up trading it for a '71 Charger R/T with a 440 mag. I should've kept that fucking thing, they're rare as hell and worth a fortune now.

 

Long story short, toytoy, I could tell this was a rat rod. The guy driving it looked like Danny from Kount's Kustoms. The car had obviously sat for a long time and had original paint/primer that looked terrible, and, yes, he was missing his driver window. I figured he drug it out of the woods sometime recently, too. Being a super rare Nomad, I had to catch up to him just to check the car out. It was sweet!

In other news, I also saw a Lamborghini on the small town highway today. Good day for cars for me!

 

A few months ago I was driving to work and had a car that was featured as a build on Counting Cars go by. It was his attempt at building a low rider, a '64 Galaxie 4 door. I thought it looked stupid and pointless on TV, starting with the fact that it was a 4 door. I think they showed that it sold for like $50K or so.

When it drove by me, it still looked stupid and pointless and as a bonus, it sounded like shit too.

 

So, it's almost 2am, and I have watched 12 episodes of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Has anyone else watched this show, because I'm obsessed.

 

First trip I took in 2000 with what would be my best man at my wedding to a resort in the Maya Riviera we were pretty calm all the time. However after about 4 days of walking down hallways build for 8 across people and having 4-5 people blocking the whole thing my buddy just started shoulder checking assholes every time. I will agree at the time I was passive but realized after a day or two more that he was right and those that are just social dicks deserve dickish responses.

Years went by and was in Cuba for a great trip and after 2 days realized (and asked bartender) about how there were two different color bracelets on the resort. Canadian English and British vs Canadian French. Simple reply was, "of course, we need to know who is an asshole and who isn't" And it was accurate.

 

Once on new years day I ended up behind a little old woman who broke out her checkbook in the grocery store. She slowly, but dutifully fills out the check and ledger; then looks at the cashier and asks "what day is it?".

 

Welp, them kids in Windsor are up to no good again:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/windsor/a ... -1.2984596

 

This would have turned me on, but I checked that patriarchal porn culture:

NSFW

 

Heh, last night when I was drunk, I was trying to impress my husband with keen memory of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song. But that wasn't as impressive as the fact that not long after that I turned on Jimmy Kimmel and DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince were on! I SUMMONED THEM WITH MY SINGING!

 

At 2am I was 4 episodes in and had to force myself to go to bed.

 

I do not have your willpower. I honestly thought I would watch one or two episodes. Suddenly, it was 2am and I needed to see the 13th episode.

 

I just learned that the average person inhales 1 liter of farts every day.

Pardon me while I go puke.

 

I know this is totally a first world problem, but I seemed to have a beer problem. Not in the fact that I drink too much beer, but rather that I'm accumulating beer faster than I can drink it. It's the time of the year, at least in Ohio, where a lot of the local breweries release their biggest selling seasonals that are usually only available for a few weeks, so everyone and their brother goes out to buy them just to say they have them. In just the past 3 weeks I've gone out and bought Bell's Hopslam, Fat Head's Hop Juju, Columbus Brewing Company's Creeper and Great Lakes Brewing Company's Chillwave. Not to mention that a few friends have brought me back a few sixers from 3 Floyds in Indiana. The biggest problem is that almost all of these are right around the 10% range, so it's not like I can just put down a bunch at a time.

Now if only I could get my hands on a couple of bottles of Dogfish Head 120 Minute...