The sub-moronic ramblings of a semi-functioning illiterate

Posts tagged “cars

Hawaiian SPaM

Break out the Sex Wax and Longboards because today’s featured SPaM is blogworld’s own personal Moondoggie. When he’s not waxing poetic about Harry Potter in Limerick form he’s listening to music or hanging ten down in NYC.

Make way for the very handsome…EL GUAPO!!!!


The interview was conducted with me wearing this shirt. And nothing else.

Interview’s Music: Ravel’s Bolero…


**** 1. Where does your love of music come from?


IrishPaul, Other Paul, Big Mike.

Irish Paul knows the entire discographies of some of the most obscure bands on earth.

OtherPaul listens to a lot of techno and industrial, that isn’t really my thing, but there are some gems in there.

Big Mike is an encyclopedia of classic and Southern rock.

Once went to a concert with Big Mike and IrishPaul. They got into a conversation that was like sitting in on a master class of music appreciation.

Because of them, I got to appreciate a lot of stuff you won’t hear on classic rock stations.

And now there is very little I won’t listen to.

As an aside – if you’re going to travel to see a show with IrishPaul, budget twice the drinking money you though t you needed, and at least one extra recovery day.

**** 2. Name four songs that you’d include in a soundtrack of your life.

This song is next to impossible to answer. The songs change from moment to moment.

But I would include

Eric Clapton: Layla – It’s the primal scream of rock n roll

They Might Be Giants: Birdhouse in your soul. It’s the song for me and my girl.

John Coltrane: Favorite Things. If this doesn’t move you, you’re already dead.

Jimmy Buffett:: Landfall. It’s a great song, and has the line “If I had it all to do over again/I’d just get myself drunk and I’d jump right back in.

But seriously, as soon as I hit send, the answers will change.

**** 3. Does living in NYC affect your surfing?

The best part of being a surfer with a board living in NYC is the conversations I’ve struck up at 7am with passersby when I’m trapping the board to the roof.

And driving through neighborhoods where no one has ever heard of surfing with a board strapped to my car.

**** 4. Which one of your “toys” is your favorite and why?


My Takamine Jasmine acoustic cutaway guitar.

I was telling my girl (the most wonderful girl in the universe) that I would love a cutaway, but couldn’t justify spending the money on it.

So she went out and bought me one. And the sound of it with light strings is perfect!

**** 5. Best and worst concert ever.

Worst is easy. The only concert I ever walked out on was Damien Rice.

He told great stories between the songs, but the songs were too depressing.

Then he starts singing about his Eskimo friend.

And 3000 hipster yuppies start holding up their lighters and chanting.

My girl and I looked at each other, then ran out before we exploded with laughter.

Pretty sure we’d have been lynched if we did it in our seats…


This is kind of a cop-out, but best concert is any of them when the act is into what they’re doing, and brings the crowd along.

As opposed to Blues Traveller, who were really into what they were doing, which was mostly jerking each other off.


An example of a fun show – Hootie and The Blowfish, years ago in a 500 person SRO room. during the world series. They’re a great pop-rock bar band.

Every so often one of them would wander offstage, and come back with a bottle of  SoCo to share with the band, and the updated score. I think if no one showed up for that gig, they’d have played anyway and had just as good a time.

**** 6. Dead musician you’d resurrect.

Toss up between Miles Davis and Jimi Hendrix.

If they played together, I would commit Class A felonies to get a ticket to that.


But since I’m just resurrecting willy-nilly, throw Mel Blanc in there too.

What? He sang “Barber of Seville” as Elmer Fudd. That’s gotta be worth something.

**** 7. How long does it take for you to come up with your limericks?


There’s no rhyme or reason to the limericks.

The first one was for The Fountainhead, in response to a conversation on twitter. That just appeared, whole.

The one for your book ( was hard, because I wanted it to actually work.

Fortunately, I don’t use vast parts of my brain, so once I figure out what it should say, I just let it stew around in the mental abscesses  until something fits.

(I can’t believe you want to know about the limericks)

**** 8. You mention activities like skydiving, hangliding and scuba diving. Is there anything you won’t do?

Ice Climbing. Seriously, those guys are way off the crazy scale.

In a bad way.

**** 9. Where do you come up with the idea for Friday Foolishness?


The first poll I ever did was titled “A Poll For Y’Oll”. (, which (believe it or not) was not the most inane poll ever.

In the post, I said I thought it might be fun to have a theme, and call it Friday Foolishness.

The comments (both of them) were very supportive.
But how I come up with each poll? I swear to you, I have no idea.

Usually, if there’s something going on in the world, I’ll say to my girl, hey, how about this.

Then I’ll just bounce ideas off her until I get the right expression of appalled. That’s when I know I’ve hit my mark.


About the foolishness, I’ve gotten a few comments that people look forward to them, but the best was one on a Friday at 7 am, before the post went up, from Kayjai that said

“Uh, hello?? It’s Friday??? Have you forgotten the foolishness?? *sigh* Okay…I’ll wait………………………………………………………………………………..”

One of the best comments ever.

**** 10. Every music lovin’ surfer needs an epic automobile. Your dream car is….?


1964 ½ flat black convertible standard transmission Mustang.

Sorry, was I supposed to think about that for a minute?

Oh, and I’d upgrade the stereo from stock.


For more fun in the sun follow EL GUAPO

For your own featured SPaM contact me at

Happy Birthday H.R. Nightmare!!!

Smug Bastard

Yes ladies and gentlemen, today is the infamous H.R. Nightmare’s birthday. Celebrating H.R.’s birthday is a big deal because anyone who knows him personally cannot believe this man is still alive. The list of things he’s done is crazy enough to fill a book (You need to write one, HR. I’ll help).

In honor of this special occasion I have decided to create a quiz to test how much you know about H.R. Nightmare. Scoring is as follows:

A=1 point

B=2 points

C=3 points

D=4 points

Correct answers when added together will equal HR’s age. Tally your points and then read the answers at the bottom of the post. Now onto…


1. HR is of ___________ descent:

A) Romanian

B) Swedish

C) Native American

D) All of the above

2. HR’s bedroom in high school contained:

A) An entire wall covered with names of girls he’d slept with including how many times each

B) A Rickenbacker bass guitar signed by Lemmy Kilmeister

C) A 1972 Triumph Bonneville Chopper motorcycle

D) All of the above

3. HR has earned money as:

A) A fitness model

B) A male escort

C) Underground fight club champ

D) All of the above

4. HR has been arrested for:

A) Riding a motorcycle down the hall of his high school

B) Burning down a barn while making an apple bong

C) Stealing a squad car while drunk at the age of twelve

D) All of the above

5. HR got away with:

A) Smuggling illegal immigrants to and from job sites in box vans

B) Boosting Indy 500 winner Jim Rathmann’s Ferrari as a prank

C) Hitchhiking home from Vegas after stealing and then abandoning his dad’s tractor trailer

D) All of the above

6. HR has been injured by:

A) Being stabbed and shot

B) Severing his hand nearly in two on a table saw

C) Being thrown by his father through the rear windshield of a Ford LTD

D) All of the above

7. HR saved the day when he:

A) Rescued a school bus full of children trapped under downed power lines

B) Was the only EMT willing to drive an ambulance through the ice storm of 2008

C) Rebuilt the entire brake system in a stretch hummer limo in a single night as a gift to competition bound cheerleaders

D) All of the above

8. The stupidest thing HR has ever done:

A) Got a speeding ticket while riding a go-cart built out of a bed frame and lawn tractor

B) Let his stoned buddy “pierce” his ear with a pneumatic staple gun

C) Let H.E. drive his Corvette

D) All of the above

9. The most unbelievable thing about HR is:

A) He was an extra in a major motion picture

B) He does not have a tattoo

C) Trained as an amateur power lifter by Kieran Kidder

D) All of the above


D) All of the above

Seriously dude, write a book.

M3 Writer’s Spotlight

Today I was lucky enough to score a book interview with the one and only Red from Momma’s Money Matters; a blog about, “Money, parenting, blogging, psychology…good advice delivered with a bit of snark and humor.”

In addition to Red being a blogging powerhouse and gracious post host; she managed to do what almost no one in the world has been able to do. Yes, Red convinced me to tell a dirty little secret about myself.


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.

Shawarma SPaM

This week’s SPaM features a blogger who brings new meaning to the phrase, “It’s a small world.” He describes himself as, “a 19 year old Civil Engineering student at …..a random college in THE most crowded subcontinent on the planet. I grew up in the Middle East around shawarma and KFC with massive portions. Naturally I have a thing for food.”

In addition to his appetite for food this Indian boy wonder is a prolific blogger, reader and ranter. Just don’t ask him for a ride. Welcome to SPaM our very own…RANTONIT.


**** 1.What is an Indian Mechanism?

Contrary to popular belief, Indians are not inherently nuts. (Completely irrevocably nuts). No, they arrive at that end result as a result of being tagged Indian. I mean, that and reading self help books which tell you to be different.

Let me explain. Every day the whole country gets up and asks this question: How on earth do you distinguish yourself between 1.2 billion people? Quite hard you’d assume.

So with everyone trying to be different and everyone having quite the same DNA (I swear India got started with two people with the libidos of rabbits (which clearly has been passed down the ages = 1.2 billion)) results in, wouldn’t you believe it, exactly the same twat-like behavior.

Thus what you call Indian Mechanisms, mostly literally, how we operate.

**** 2.What inspired you to pursue an education in Civil Engineering?

How I got around to civil engineering eh? Well, it started in 3rd grade when I wanted, more than anything in the world to be a pilot. That then changed to being an aeronautical engineer (oh yeah), then I wanted to become a computer science engineer (see a pattern?) and hence in 11th grade I took comp sci. in school which involved C++ and in no time I decided I wanted to be an Architect which, now that I think about it, is where I should have stopped. Then I wanted to do mech. Engineering and finally got civil. So there, the lifecycle till 19, of an average Indian.

**** 3. What inspired your latest hair, er…lack of hair style?

Dandruff problem was the official line because it was brilliant. Really, Indians all over are happy if they’ve judged you just a little each day, even if it was over you having had dandruff (an apparent failing on your part). That and a Dandruff problem’ was a two word answer I could shout out to passing people who asked me the question, or even to those open palms lifted in the same question. Really, that happened a lot.

However, I had an actual reason; the hair meant a lot and cutting it, even more so. It is something I’d make a post of, but in plain simple words, I shaved my head everyday because, hey, I looked so damn good that way ……and it was there to remind me that I frankly don’t give a rats ass about people judging me. ALSO to remind me to stay in the present, firmly. Not to get happy about things that might or might not happen in the future because that’s a lesson that seems to rush me by how many ever times I have it stapled onto my forehead. So there’s an honest answer.

**** 4. Tell us about the notorious drivers in India.

Well, let’s put it this way, I wasn’t born with un-descended testicles and seeing as I haven’t been driving in India for a month or so now, I’m expecting them down any day now.

**** 5. What is the biggest misconception people have about India?

I wouldn’t know, see. I grew up in the Middle East, in Muscat. Been there since age 6 and all of a sudden, in March of 2010, I find myself in India. How do you think I liked that? Blew my mind completely. Honestly, I’m not the Indian to be asking this question, growing up in the Middle East and being Indian, I had a very mixed up bunch of views on India. Bollywood movies weren’t the most reliable yardsticks either as I have painfully learned. But one thing I can tell you, if you’re here for anything other than a holiday and maybe even in that case, it is not a mystical nice place with friendly wisdom-ous people. It will almost kill you and as the Joker said, “Whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

**** 6. Many of your blog posts focus on your love of food. What is your favorite traditional Indian dish and your favorite international dish?

Erm, favorite food? U mad bro? Do you not remember, in every post, how I stress my consumption of everything consumable and some not? I’m the man who invented the post dessert snack. I do love all Indian food, really I do and all other food for that matter. The unhealthier the better.

**** 7. What are your favorite book, movie and song?

My favorite book of ALL time would have to be ‘The Fountainhead’ by Ayn Rand and she is my favorite author. I won’t ruin it by talking about it and another book of hers, Atlas Shrugged shows a lot of promise as well, 1/4th the way through it atm.

My favorite song would have to be Let it be by John Lennon, and Bitter Sweet Symphony by The Verve aaaand Save Tonight by Eagle Eye Cherry aaand Elbow’s Grounds for Divorce instrumental ….but no, I actually love a lot of music; I absolutely love alt rock, Bach, country and mostly everything in between. Play rap, hip hop and any of that rubbish and I swear, Imma stuff bacon in your ears till you overheat your tiny little brain explodes. Absolutely love the Matrix trilogy, Inception, and a lot of sappy movies as well like…. No, I won’t live that one down.

**** 8. Where do you see yourself in five years?

I will have, by then eaten 1/5th of the world’s beef, up from 1/8th by the end of this year. My growth follows an elliptical curve.



For more Indian Mechanisms follow RANTONIT

Next week’s SPaM features novelist Skinnywhitewoman

For your own SPaM contact me at


Why The Seventies Were “F*in” Awesome

There are so many reasons why the seventies were awesome that I needed to narrow it down to just one letter, and that letter is F. First, we begin with the obvious choice, FASHION. Or better yet, FAIL.

And what post about the seventies would be complete without FARRAH HAIR. When I was a little dark haired girl all I had to look up to for a media role model was a blonde beach bunny named Farrah. My Italian boy cousins however, got to have a television icon and Guido Extraordinaire, FONZIE. Seriously not fair.

Next we have FOGHAT, FRAMPTON AND FREDDIE. I’d like to think there’s a special place in music heaven for Freddie Mercury.

I’d also like to think there’s a special place in automotive hell for whatever sadist “revamped” the 1974 Mustang in order to better handle the rising costs of gasoline thanks to the imposed FUEL EMBARGO. Pure Sacrilege.

For some reason, interior designers of the seventies were all about the concept of designing for the FUTURE. Apparently, the world will exist on nothing but shag carpeting, paneling, polished chrome and FORMICA.



One of the biggest events of the seventies was the advent of FREE AGENCY in sports. No longer “owned” by teams, a player could broker his own deal, essentially selling himself to the highest bidder (Confused? Watch Jerry Maguire). Pete Rose was one of the first to leverage his talent for the best deal. I’m sure he did great things with that extra cash.



Now a nod toward Pop Culture; namely FADS, FEVER and FRANK-N-FURTER.