The sub-moronic ramblings of a semi-functioning illiterate

The Hellis 100 (61-70)

By now most of you have figured out that my three favorite things in life (behind New England sports teams) are music, cars and men. While those three things are fine individually, when I combine them I find myself in trouble. So for the next installment of The Hellis 100 I give you:


I’ve decided to divide this list into three categories; accidents ending in hospital transports, angry boyfriend induced recklessness (get used to seeing the letters “HR” here) and sheer stupidity. I’ll start the list with “accidents ending in hospital transports.”


Yes, I really hung a Pinto in a tree while drag racing my boyfriend. But to be honest, it was one of those south Florida scrubby trees so I didn’t catch the epic air you may be thinking I did. I’ll say this for Ford; they did a hell of a job on the ’76 Pinto. That sucker drove away once the Ft. Lauderdale road crews pulled it down. That’s what my boyfriend told me since at the time I was in the hospital getting checked out from the fall I took as I climbed out of the tree. The accident itself didn’t leave a scratch on me. Here’s the song that was playing at the time:


At first I wasn’t sure if I should include this incident as I wasn’t the one driving, but I decided it qualifies because: A) a boy most DEFINITELY was involved and: B) so was a song; a song that to this day I refuse to listen to while in a car. This highway wipe-out lead to an ER visit and a free pass for my friends and I to screw around in the high school elevator for weeks following. The song involved was:


Ladies, listen up. When your boyfriend tells you that there’s a difference between riding a classic bike and a crotch rocket, listen to him. No matter how bad you want to punch him straight in his cocky face. That’s right, HR. I went there. And while there was no music playing when I dumped this bike, every time I hear this song I think of that night, and remember wondering if the ambulance was going to find me in the middle of nowhere.

Now we’ll move onto “angry boyfriend induced recklessness” with:


By now you may have noticed that I don’t like admitting when I don’t know how to do something a boy can do; so you can imagine how I handled my boyfriend telling me that men drive stick better than women. For the record, the boyfriend in question wasn’t HR (don’t believe what HR says; I taught him to drive standard). No, this boyfriend was a good ole boy from Tallahassee who just may have been the world’s biggest Hank Williams III fan. Sadly, he was also a Tampa Bay fan (sorry, Dayton). I’ll spare you the gory details of my “didn’t know what he meant by downshift” reaction as I drove straight into the swamp and instead I’ll just say this: I blame Hank.


Look away, HR. This was before you but after number seven up there. By the time I had the opportunity to drive my then boyfriend Rick’s Carmen Ghia I had learned to drive a standard properly. However, the stick I was handling at the time belonged to his best friend, Raphael. What can I say? Rick pissed me off. I get warm, fuzzy feelings every time I hear this song, as does the Broward County highway patrol; helicopter division.


Alright, so this one may need some explanation. More than anything I love taking big motors and cramming them into small cars (paging Dr. Freud). So for my birthday my then boyfriend (yes, this is you HR) took a Toyota inline six motor normally found in the 4-Runner and dropped it into a 1984 Toyota Celica. For those of you who may not know this equals a whole lot of awesome, considering that my Celica was a rear-wheel drive five speed manual. Talk about a racer’s wet dream. That is until I blew a piston out the side of the engine block. I’ll defer to HR in the comments as to how I managed to do this. I’ll just say he and his boys pissed me off enough to take my anger out while listening to this song. You do the math.


After my Toyota debacle HR wouldn’t let me near any car he owned, especially his 1978 Silver Anniversary Edition Corvette. It took all of my feminine charms to persuade him to hand over the keys to his beloved Corvette. Alright, the truth is he was passed out cold and I stole them from his back pocket. TomAto, tomato. Needless to say I blew that car to smithereens as well and was offered a ride home from a trucker who I later found out was a wanted murderer. For the whole sordid story, go here. Pantera was the soundtrack to that night:

Now onto “sheer stupidity” with:


Since the statute of limitations has not yet run out on this particular evening, I’ve decided not to tempt the Gods of “dodging a bullet” by declaring how motherf’in awesome that night was. I’ll just state for the record that I was not stoned nor was I driving. What happened to the party bus that night is God’s own personal mystery. I’ll let your imagination wander while you listen to my favorite Godsmack song of all time and the signature song of the evening:


Did you ever do something so stupid that even while it was happening you were sure you were going to die? Well I did, and I have assigned that night of stupidity number two on this list. My brother’s best friend Rick (yes, that would be Carmen Ghia Rick) was not yet my boyfriend, but I sure wanted him to be. At the time Rick and my brother lived in Saratoga, New York which is a town with many winding mountain roads including the featured road of the evening, Bald Mountain. So when Rick called from a bar and asked me to drive my drunk ass brother’s car home I jumped at the chance to make time with my future boyfriend.

Then came the dare. The dare to follow Rick home while driving my brother’s Monte Carlo SS.

At 3:00 a.m.

With no headlights.

Yes, the whole “dare” was to see if I could keep up with Rick’s Carmen Ghia while I drove my brother’s Monte Carlo without the headlights on.  Now Bald Mountain is a road that my brother described as knowing “better than the skin of his dick,” so I believed him when he said he’d be able to alert me to every corner and turn before they appeared. This sounded perfectly reasonable, until he passed out five minutes down the mountain. Obviously I made it through the whole winding nightmare with only Rick’s tail lights to guide me and yes, impressed the hell out of him enough to ask me out once we got home. At the time this was my brother’s favorite song, and the memory of that night is one of the happiest and scariest moments of my life.


Now that I am older and wiser (in other words, legally able to be tried as an adult) I make somewhat better choices where music, cars and men are concerned. For instance, I take full advantage of Prince Charming’s fire department scanner to let me know where the police are responding before I pick a road on the other side of town to catch air on. I’ve also found that my taste in music has begun leaning more toward classic than angry rock.

But the biggest change I made was my decision to replace men with cars; namely my 1968 Chevy Impala which I named Frank Stallone with…well, every man out there. Frank’s the perfect man for me; solid, dependable, quiet when I want him to be. Roars when I make him. Most days Frank and I are happy just to tool around town lost in our daydreams. And while his fantasies involve a certain Metallicar, my focus is more on the two boys inside it and my fantasy of being the center of a Jensen Ackles – Jared Padalecki sandwich.


If I were smart I’d end my post here and get to work on the writing I had planned for the weekend, but the phone call I got while writing this post pounded the hell out of my rebellion button. Yup, Jeb just called and told me to pack my shit because we’re off on an adventure to Connecticut to catch LIT in concert. Sadly, minus the party bus. I AM my own worst enemy.

45 responses

  1. Best.Post.Ever !&%*!# (0.0)
    Words cannot describe how much in awe I am right now.
    I’ll get back to you when I find the words….. And the questions, there are lots of questions.
    Can I call dibs on writing a biography?

    February 4, 2012 at 1:36 am

    • You got dibs, brotha! If I were you I’d call dibs on HR’s biography too. His is twice as crazy.

      February 4, 2012 at 1:39 am

      • jyusss! XD ….. I think your biography should be more than sufficient etertainment ( no offense ) . Imagine trying to explain the train of thought that got someone under 5ft on a ninja . 😛
        How ever will I put that into words (^.^).

        Also, after this post, I think I’m writing you a whole other letter, although I don’t think poetry’s the best language for this one XD .

        February 4, 2012 at 3:03 am

  2. …And *that,* Ms. Ellis, is why I subscribed to your blog. 🙂

    hahaha. This made my night. 🙂

    February 4, 2012 at 2:34 am

    • …And posts about your underwear are why I subscribed to yours. Seriously dude, you need to write a book.

      February 4, 2012 at 8:15 am

  3. Oh no … I really want a bright green Kawasaki Ninja! I would never have the ball to ride it though. Cars, Men and Angry feeling do not mix well although I find anger makes me drive better. Enjoy Connecticut but be good.

    February 4, 2012 at 3:00 am

    • I own a bright green Kawasaki Ninja!! 🙂 Riding it is the most fun I can have on the road..

      February 4, 2012 at 6:19 am

      • Megan, we’ll each get green Kawasakis and hang out with Darlene!

        February 4, 2012 at 8:18 am

  4. haha.. what a great post! Way to go showing up all those boys… pshh.. and the music! 😀 And I cannot beleive you blew the motor in a corvette (that didn’t belong to you) and are still alive!

    Great post.

    February 4, 2012 at 6:22 am

    • I cannot believe it either. Honestly, I was more worried about what my boyfriend might do than the serial killer!

      February 4, 2012 at 8:20 am

  5. I’ve led a very boring life H E-perhaps you can help me with that? My girl crush on you just got bigger. Heavy sigh.

    February 4, 2012 at 9:06 am

    • Can you imagine you and I together back in our teens? Talk about Thelma and Louise. 🙂

      February 4, 2012 at 9:11 am

      • Yeah, but not in a good way…

        February 4, 2012 at 11:31 pm

  6. I’m sure glad I’m not your father. My kids cost me enough sleep and what they did don’t hold a patch to you. Sounds like your here for a good time rather than a long time.

    February 4, 2012 at 9:24 am

    • I did all this stuff before I turned twenty, right before my kids were born. I figured they needed me around so I cooled it on the craziness. If they only knew what their mother was really like.

      February 4, 2012 at 10:03 am

  7. My writing sucks this morning. Probably a hangover from yesterday’s post.

    February 4, 2012 at 9:29 am

    • I caught that. 🙂

      February 4, 2012 at 10:04 am

  8. Omg. You have lived woman!

    February 4, 2012 at 10:05 am

    • Yes, I am a cautionary tale. 🙂

      February 5, 2012 at 8:16 am

  9. Way great. Too bad about the New England sports teams, but we can’t all agree on everything.
    It’s amazing you made it through. We used to drive faster at night in the Black Hills of SD because you could always take the inside lane, since you could see headlights coming around the corner. How stupid was that? What if the headlights went off into space someplace where there weren’t trees? Or if someone’s little sister was driving without them? During the day, the gas tanker truck drivers would be breathing down our necks at 60-70 mph, because they had every dip and curve and chipmunk in the mountain roads memorized. We’d actually have to get out of THEIR way.
    Except for dumping a pickup into a frozen lake when I was just a little bit drunk, I have nothing to compare.

    February 4, 2012 at 12:37 pm

    • This sounded like you’d have hung in with me just fine.

      February 5, 2012 at 8:17 am

  10. I just have an endless string of damage to right front quarter panels, including wrecking a brand new Mazda 323 two weeks after getting it, then getting it fixed and wrecking it again in the same exact spot. In all fairness, the second time wasn’t my fault. I got sideswiped on the highway by some guys too pussified to fight me. They had a monster truck. I had a Mazda 323. My brother and I just spun around a couple of times on the highway, and then drove home.

    February 4, 2012 at 12:53 pm

    • I got a few sordid stories too, it’s just that I never got caught.

      February 4, 2012 at 12:53 pm

    • Mazdas are pretty quick. I bet you smoked their asses at least.

      February 5, 2012 at 8:18 am

      • Unfortunately, they hit me because they slowed down and swerved into my lane as I was trying to pass them. Hard to smoke someone when you’re spinning around in circles into the median. The whole thing was a very Jerry Springer deal, only with a car crash at the end. Actual dialog:
        Them (to passing girls): You’re pussies. Hey, don’t you ladies think these guys are pussies?
        Girls: No, but you are.

        I mean, they met me in the parking lot after the bar closed, there were three of them and two of us, they had a monster truck, they were each bigger than my brother and I, yet not a single punch was thrown. They had to resort to hitting my car. And I was even shorter then than I am now.

        February 5, 2012 at 11:26 am

        • That’s it. We’re hanging out, Hotspur.

          February 5, 2012 at 11:51 am

          • That would be a riot. Two short people punching with mouth.

            I’ve only been in one fight since my teens, and that was with a guy who busted out my driver’s side window. Say, that was the same Mazda! In fact, that one night where I had to shove a girl out of my car as I drove off was that Mazda too. That car was… something else.

            February 5, 2012 at 4:37 pm

  11. My life is so friggin’ boring. You probably would have thought my brush with death a couple of weeks ago was a walk in the park.

    February 4, 2012 at 1:43 pm

    • I think it’s all relative. Kids who act out end up sedate adults, while easy going kids turn into RIOTS. I think we’d have a blast hanging out today. Just don’t speak too loudly; my ears are still ringing from spending last night in the pit at a LIT concert.

      February 5, 2012 at 8:22 am

  12. Best EVER!!! Rock on, Sista!

    February 4, 2012 at 3:19 pm

    • No, the best post ever will come the day after you and I go MUMMERING!

      February 5, 2012 at 8:23 am

  13. This is one of the best posts I’ve ever read, even when Bukowski was blogging. You had me at handjob..

    February 4, 2012 at 5:19 pm

    • Bukowski and handjobs. Best comment ever.

      February 5, 2012 at 8:23 am

  14. It is a wonder we do not know each other! I was in 4 totaled accidents by the time I was 22, only once was I driving. I partied on Pantera’s bus back in the day when a friends band, Wrathchild opened up for them. When I first got married I would bore my wife to tears every time I ran into either a high school friend, a college friend or a friend from Myrtle Beach. Each had its own set of drinking and driving stories, that lasted hours, that we had to rehash with each reunion. “Live Wire” still one of Motley Crue’s best songs. You rode in some vintage rides! Great post, I really enjoyed the flashback!

    February 4, 2012 at 5:38 pm

    • OMG…you got to party with Phil Anselmo? Now I am jealous and believe me, where bands are concerned that’s hard to do. I’ve got a special kind of hook up in music land.

      February 5, 2012 at 8:26 am

      • Some Pantera fan dove off the stage that night and actually got hurt. Phil carried him to the exit while they kept playing. Later that night on the bus I saw him and said, “hey how’s that dude that jumped off the stage?” He snarls back, “that was no dude, that was my friend.” Well I didn’t any thing else to him the rest of the night.

        My claim to fame from there was Wrathchild’s drummer, Shannon Larkin, who is the best darn drummer in the world. He landed on his feet from those days, drumming for Godsmack right now. He was awesome to watch, still is! He started drumming for Wrathchild at 16 years old. Some places they couldn’t play because he was too young to let in the door back then. Check Shannon out.

        The band Kix was also in that circuit that I got to know as the lady that taught me how to tend bar was married to their lead guitarist, Bryan Forsythe. Lots of fun to watch too!

        Rock on H E!

        February 5, 2012 at 4:14 pm

        • Oh yeah, I know all about Shannon Larkin. I live about a half an hour from him, Sully and Rob Zombie. My claim to fame is A. Jay. Popoff from LIT reading my book.

          February 5, 2012 at 4:24 pm

  15. Pretty sure I’ve read about number 8…
    Also, thank god the cops stopped you before you could wreck the Ghia.

    February 4, 2012 at 11:33 pm

    • I wondered who’d pick up on eight. But for the record, Gus would NEVER ride an import. Just saying.

      February 5, 2012 at 8:28 am

  16. You may be your worst enemy, but you’re also your best party.

    February 4, 2012 at 11:43 pm

    • That I am. 🙂

      February 5, 2012 at 8:28 am

  17. 🙂 See that little smile? See it? That’s me keeping my mouth shut on this one. And yes she blew up my Corvette and ok, she also destroyed my best creation ever by blowing a 5.5 inch hole in the side on the engine block where I could remove the #2 piston without touching the side wall. And yes, the car was crazy fast and tuned just right for breakneck speeds anywhere. It was broken only 2 weeks after the final tweeks to make it race ready. But I hold no grudge to that. Instead, I’m holding Frank Stallone hostage. But please don’t tell HE. She has no sense of humor about that car.
    I would also like to point out I would have commented earlier, but was indisposed over the weekend. My fluid levels and feeling in my extremities are returning nicely. Thanks for the help, HE.

    February 6, 2012 at 12:58 pm

    • Damn straight I have no sense of humor about Frank Stallone. There’s a reason why he’s big enough for you to fit in his trunk. And as for your “fluid levels”…


      February 6, 2012 at 1:04 pm

  18. Anonymous

    Just when I thought I couldn’t love you anymore, your insanity draws me in even closer….

    February 7, 2012 at 7:00 am