Thief

I swear my old posts are being poached!!!

My gun range post

The copycat

You will be hearing from my lawyer.

Driving Miss Daisy

It was a cold wintery night in November 2006 when my brother decided to fork over a large sum of cash for a 1971 Mercedes 280 SL. He was thinking towards the future. A future of summertime cruising in a classic California convertible. Two months he was told until it would be restored to pristine condition. Flash forward eighteen months, it was finally ready. We drove out there yesterday. The car looked beautiful. Only one question was asked by my brother: "Should we ArmorAll the tires before we leave?" The salesman, and I use the term loosely, asked Lewis if he would like to take it for a test drive before he signs off on the fact that he will never call him again to badger him about why the car took an additional sixteen months. Only one word was uttered by my brother, "Naaaa." On that note Lewis didn't want to drive it at all. I drove it and him around for basically the first 50 miles. Every once and awhile he would call a friend so we could go to their house to show it off.

"Lewis, Lewis the car is amazing. Why aren't you behind the wheel?"
Soon was the only response given. After a few hours of driving I put the automobile in a tiny one car garage owned by Lewis's landlord. It very much felt like the final scene in Raiders when the ark of the covenant is loaded into a crate and put away for storage.

Judging by the size of the garage, I am figuring the car will not move until the next time my brother wants me to take him for a ride. Based on the skittish behavior around his new toy I figure it will soon be mine. I have put together a timeline in pictures of the car's future. Enjoy!!


Day 1 - only 50 miles on it


Don't worry, it will clean up fine.

Novelty gone. Left for dead.

If you can catch this thing, you can catch greased lighting.

Has anyone seen Rocky II lately? It was on cable last night and I caught about 30 minutes of it before my brain went into full shut down. In those 1800 seconds I saw the following:
1. Rocky running down the street with every kid in Philidelphia chasing him.
2. Rocky working out doing sets of 50.
3. Rocky chasing a chicken.
4. Adrian waking from her coma and telling Rocky she wants him to win.
5. Carl Weathers' mustache.

If it wasn't for the stache I don't think this movie would have been made.

And I'm Ron Burgundy. Go fuck yourself, San Diego.

I am down in La Jolla for the weekend. As if you care. Ehhh, doubtful.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Gumball Machine

I have finally decided on my vehicle of choice for the Gumball 3000. It is . . .drum roll please. . . an Audi R8 V12 TDI. Since gas is so expensive I felt running a diesel would make economic sense. Also driving a diesel sports car makes me feel like we are in some sort of post apocalyptic world. If I get the Audi, I plan to dress up as Lee Majors and reenact The Last Chase scene for scene. Now if I could only find out what Chris Makepeace is doing.

Friendship takes a turn for the worst

I may not be a genius but I do know you should never mix friends with money. I can think of many a time when a friendship jumped the shark because of some sort of financial transaction. I remember the time my father sold my best friend a Saab with questionable mileage. Fourteen years later I can still see the resentment in my friend's eyes. "Why did your father sell me a Saab with broken odometer and four mismatched tires?"

In recent weeks I had a fairly new friend tell me that he has an amazing business proposition for me and wondered when we could sit down to discuss. The first mistake is making new friends. I mean come on, I am 32, if I haven't met you by now there is no point. I digress. I gave my new friend a few hours on Sunday so he could explain to me how I could be RICH and retire in six months. I don't want to give away the product name out of fear that this new friend might read my blog, but lets just say it is a juice being sold in a multi-level marketing program. No, no, no, not Amway. Not Quixtar either (I am not that smart. I have to look all this stuff up.) It kind of sucks because my friend was very passionate about the product and the multi-level marketing program and he could see I wasn't buying it. He thought I was out of my mind when I told him it wasn't for me or two people I know and two people they know and two people they know. After a few very awkward moments my friend accepted defeat and we went to dinner. I haven't heard from him since.

To the point

Sticker on the back of a car:

Stink Eye

Today at lunch I had the pleasure of receiving the stink eye from a baby. It was like his eyes saw all and in his soul he knew I was evil. Everyone at my table felt it as well. "Dude that baby is giving you the stink eye." After a few moments my table got the wiff of what only could be strained peas in a diaper. To my relief it wasn't the stink eye after all. He just liked to have eye contact while shitting. All is well in the world.

Down the hatch

The other night my coworker and I were driving around Atlanta when we passed a place called Dante's Down the Hatch. I am not sure what possessed us, but we decided that based on the name alone we had to go there. So today after a long day of work or whatever you call it we returned. The maitre'd, who looked like he hadn't seen a live customer since 1892, asked us if we would like to sit on the ship or at a regular table. So much confusion went through my head. I regret that after seeing the fondue bowl on our table I abandoned ship/restaurant. Please check out the website. You will see I was quite foolish. Think about the pirate stories I could have spun if only I stayed for a cheese plate. My loss.

Atlanta - View from my room

I have this overwhelming desire to run through the woods naked with my morning cup of coffee. I can return to nature as it was intended. If I could just figure out how to open this double paned window. Damn you, Crowne Plaza, for sealing me in.

Atlanta, here I come

Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in. Tomorrow at 12:35 I leave for Atlanta.

Can't wait to eat at Bennigan's.

"Discontent is the first step in the progress of a man or a nation” -- Oscar Wilde

Game On!

The game

I know this image is played out, but if all else fails it will be used.

Speaking of Ice Cream

My gym has a machine that you stand on and somehow it gives you your weight, height, and body fat percentage. Due to the fact that it makes buzzing sounds I can only assume the machine has come back from the future to kill me.

Two Scoops

The other night I went to Mashti Malone's for some ice cream. If I had to pick a place for the best ice cream in Los Angeles this would be it hands down, but that really isn't the point of my story. The ice cream parlor is in what I would call a questionable neighborhood. Due to prostitution activity in the area you are not allowed to park on the local side streets. With this in mind I knew that if I didn't get a spot in the Mashti designated area, I might be denied my peanut butter cup goodness. I pulled into the lot with Sarah and Monkey in tow and as luck would have it the only spot available was designated for the liquor store next door. I decided to ask the liquor store manager quite politely if he wouldn't mind terribly if I parked in his spot for a few moments while I ran in to get my delicious dessert. He begrudgingly gave me permission, so we parked, left Monkey in the backseat and off we went for sugar cones. Did I mention I love this place?

After a few moments of deciding on one scoop or two (heart attack or stroke), I found myself enjoying my cone while looking out the window. Not more than 30 seconds go by (three licks, tops), before an older Chevy Blazer comes flying into the parking lot, smoke billowing from the windows, spare tire chained to the roof, and driver clearly intoxicated. As he comes to a complete stop in front of my car, what might have been the entire Los Angeles police department has entered the lot. Before I know it, guns are drawn, the driver of the Blazer is laying face down in front of my car before being carried off in cuffs. After I was 90% sure that all guns were reholstered, I walked outside to see what was going on. I was slightly freaked out that while the police were screaming "on the ground" my dog never bothered sticking his head out the window to see what was going on. Hell, he didn't even wake up. Apparently the driver of the Blazer ran over a pedestrian a few blocks away and figured pulling in for an ice cream was the next logical step to his evening. As I stood there thinking how lucky I was that I had gotten into the lot before the cops blocked the entrance, things took a turn for the worse. Someone in the parking lot told me the Blazer clipped the front of my car before coming to a stop. Once again why didn't the dog wake up? Thankfully there was no damage to the dog or the car but I did give the police my info just in case. Right before I left, the liquor store manager came out and said, "I told you not to park in my spot." I love Los Angeles.
The dog in question

Progress

My mom has been down in the dumps lately. Something about her children being a huge disappointment. Not really sure. I wasn't listening. I did catch her say that she went and saw a therapist today. I asked her how it was hoping that some blame could be shifted. All she had to say was the parking lot was hard to get into. I think we are getting somewhere.