For a while now I've been meaning to make a c-blog peppered with funny pictures I've taken on my cellphone. However, due to events that occurred Monday, a good amount of them had to be deleted. Maybe it's for the best, though; my idea of funny really isn't agreed upon by conventional reality. Man, it would have been epic though, a whole shrine dedicated to my facial hair, ranging from moustache,
clean shaven,
to bandana.
But no, this blog is not about my fat dog
or retards on the road.
It's no longer about propaganda at work
or my recently Red Ringed 360 (which should be back in my possession before the end of the week).
It's about my car.
For those of you not in the know, I drive a 99' Chevrolet Lumina (with a Creepy Cream finish, I might add!), in addition to bringing the kids to soccer practice and making trips to the Super Wal Mart to restock my house's supply of scented toilet-paper, my car has many uses.
For one, it's where I get most of my news (and keeps my erection discreet while listening to Terry Gross), and serves as a cafeteria with a max-capacity of one when I'm at school and anti-socially eating lunch. It also has a healthy fascination with booobs.
Yesterday, my car took its final bows. I was involved in a pretty brutal car accident on my school's campus, which has rendered my car inoperable. I've prepared a short .GIF to help explain how it happened.
If you don't want to wait for the .GIF to go back to the beginning, click here to see it.
You read that right. Flipped. The. Fuck. Over.
I'm pretty sure the whole thing happened in under five seconds, and I remember all of it in great detail. I was in my car listening to the Brian Lehrer Show. It was lightly raining. A caller, named "Arturo (which, coincidentally is the name of some midget that Penn Jillette is friends with)" was babbling on about how he's a "displaced Brooklynite," when I saw someone pulling out of the parking-lot on my left side. As I approached the intersection, I noted that the other car was most likely either going to make a left on the road I was on, or cross through the intersection and head towards the BioScience Center. I assumed he was going to yield to me before hitting said intersection (where I had the right of way). He didn't.
I realized that he wasn't going to stop too late; I couldn't brake, lest I wanted him to hit me for sure. I made the only move I could, and attempted to accelerate past him. I didn't quite get past him, so he hit my back driver side door (fairly hard). The impact at that angle sent me skidding at about a 45 degree angle, all the while my foot was still on the gas. My new trajectory was sending me over the left curb, onto the grass median (and toward oncoming traffic). I cut the wheel to the right, took my foot off the gas and tapped the brake. I then hit the right curb (fairly hard, at a weird angle), which flipped my car over. The car was in the air for a split second, and then it landed on the street and skid for a couple of feet.
The whole while I was completely conscious and uninjured; no whiplash or anything. I remember the exact thoughts that I had. When he first hit me, all I did was cringe and put on my "game-face." When I was in the air (and skidding on the ground), I ducked my head down, pulled my arms in a bit, and reassured myself (outloud) that I wasn't hurt. It was a pretty fun ride.
So there I was. Upside down in my car, being held in by my seat belt. When I took it off, I landed on the (inside, duh) roof of my car on my knees. The passenger-side door window shattered, and my books and lunch were strewn across the cabin of the car. Immediately someone ran over to me and was flipping a shit (who wouldn't?). I tried opening the driver-side door, but because the roof was crushed neither door could open. After telling the person outside that I was uninjured, I decided that waiting for the jaws of life wasn't something I wanted to do, so I broke what glass was left away from the passenger-side window, and squeezed myself through it (had I not been paranoid that my car was going to blow up with me inside of it [thanks Hollywood!], I would have taken more precaution and probably would have avoided my shattered-glass wounds).
As it turned out, the first person who came to my aid was the kid who hit me. Who immediately hugged me and said "Thank god you're alright." Yes. It was god that saved me. Not my seat belt. Not the sturdy steel frame of the car. But god. Fucking tool...
The kid was kind of a douche. Squirrelly-looking, Jesus-badge-brandishing, urban-speech-talking (he later recounted that he thought the red tranny fluid "coming out of my whip was" my "blood") as he was, he seemed nice enough (if I wanted to get REALLY cynical here I could say: "Who wouldn't be really nice when you just caused someone else's car to flip the fuck over?").
The campus police were there in seconds, as the accident happened right across the street from their headquarters (located!). They gave me gauze for my hand, and made me sign something that stated that I was declining an ambulance. They (I think) filled out a police report, and asked me and the other guy the usual questions.
I walked around looking for someone who witnessed the crash, and to my dismay the kid who hit me kept following me around... touching me... and calling me "brah"... God DAMNIT man, you just fucked up my hoopty (in the parlance of our time) and I'm really trying to hold back the urge to call you a fucking moron to your face. I found some kid who saw it. Exchanged names and numbers with him, all that jazz.
The campus police officers then came up to me and bluntly stated that I was blocking their road, and that if I didn't call a tow truck in the next five minutes, that they'd do it for me. The fucks.
I had my brother (who works in an auto garage) call in a tow truck, and eventually went to the hospital (just to make sure nothing was fucked). Unless Stony Brook Medical Hospital's sonograms and CAT scans missed something, the only injury that I sustained through the whole thing was minor glass wounds on my right hand.
Well, that's it. I'm car-less and Xbox-less, but at least I've still got my left hand and a bugina. Speaking of which, here's that SFW n00d pic of my fucking lady friend (She's not my special lady, she's my fucking lady friend.) that I promised you guys.
Hmm. Kind of looks like the doppelganger of the offspring of the Michelin Man and the Juggernaut.
This is mainly just an excuse to declare how awesome Dexter345, Roncore, Steel Squirrel and myself are at Call of Duty 4 for the XanaduBox 360 home gaming console. As always I pegged on some non-video-game-related videos and such to make this feel a bit less FAIL.
Admittedly, a 49-win-streak isn't so great (a quick look at the Leaderboards shows one person in the top-100 for wins has a streak of 172), but for an article to claim that you "boast an impressive undefeated streak of 36 matches," and for it to be something completely unimpressive, and something definitely not boast-worthy; it's kind of funny. But I guess we are dealing with "GameInformer" here...
Now for the NVGR content:
This just in! Chronic ejaculators are a third less likely to develop prostate cancer. Even better, the lead researcher Graham Niles explains that the effect is greater for Destructoiders: "Had we been able to remove ejaculations associated with sexual intercourse, there should have been an even stronger protective effect of ejaculations." Who says living in your mom's basement and being generally anti-social is a bad thing?!
Penn Jillette is quite possibly the closest thing to a hero for me. He is a loud-mouthed bad-ass who isn't afraid to love.
I'm not particularly a fan of television (especially news-television), but this video from Fox News' Hannity and Colmes shows how every now and then a super-hero and a super-villain sometimes team up to take down an even bigger super-villain.
I give you the honorable Pastor James Manning, exposing Barrack Obama as the "long-legged," born-as-"trash," "mack daddy" that he is:
If you've come to identify with the Pastor's message of love and acceptance, may I forward you to his sermon on "Who's Nigger Are You?
I figured most of you either stopped looking at these contest entries, or never even bothered to look at any of them. For this reason, I've decided to try to kill two birds with one stone. I've had some things I'd like to share with the community, but felt would be failtastic if I devoted a single blog post to 'em. But first, my 1337 rig:
Off the top of my head / from memory / completely fabricated specifications:
ASUS A8N-E Motherboard
AMD Athlon 3000+ 64-bit processor
500GB SATA HD
1GB RAM
Sound
256MB nVidia GeForce 6600 video card
In honor of the late Danmartigan, I opted to not clean my computer area up for you internet losers.
The overview:
My amazing 19 inch, 14,159 pound CRT monitzor:
Michael Yi after some butt-play with Puppetpallmich:
The insides of the tower:
Random CD and DVD cases:
The overview 2, note the deck of cards; first three seasons of Nip/Tuck; NyQuil; flashlight (not to be confused with "fleshlight"); mechanical pencil; stale Pathmark brand pretzels; anal beads; shitty PS2 games; non-functionable lightbulb; replacement lead; Trident White Peppermint Gum; and Wii Play.
Now that that's out of the way, the NVGR content:
This is mainly for Turbo "I'd Totally Nail Terry Gross" HyperFighting, and Lord "How's the Textbook Industry Goin'?" Houghton. Penn Jillette rocks my twat. Here's a video from his video-log "Penn Says" (which is hosted by "Crackle;" which is trying to be an HD youTube), and below the video is a link to the archives of podcasts for his radio show which ran for about a year (his radio show is fan-fucking-tastic, give it a try).
NY NARP: epic failure, or the most epic failure? You decide!
I had fun meeting (most) of you cock-bags. Before our rendez-vous, I wasn't sure if I was gay or not. Apparently I am.
What I learned (in alphabetical order by name):
Andy hopes that more kids are born retarded in the future. This will greatly help his financial situation.
Puppet believes I am of the homosexual persuasion. His great interest in where I thrust my p33n into is interesting in itself. I believe before year's end a roll in the sheets, an engaging and philosophical bedside chat, and a heavy-hearted, remorseful realization that the indicator on the pregnancy test is a plus sign, and NOT (not) a negative sign, followed by an abortion in Mexico by a doctor who also sells tacos is to ensue.
Pedro thinks I am Ben. He is wrong.
Lauren gave me teh AIDS. But it's okay because those anal warts she's developed are probably my fault.
Petey has a red messenger bag and he wants that and his tallness to be the only two descriptors about himself that anyone should acknowledge.
Michael is actually a pretty cool guy despite being Asian. Maybe continuing to run the sweatshop worked by his (indentured servants) brothers and sisters in my basement is immoral after all.
Graham has the name of a cracker. Which I oft-times eat in my leisure.
Samit's name is pronounced as "Sah-mitt" (or something). He also went through great pains to try to pronounce my user-handle only to fail every time he opened his mouth. I nodded and acted as if he got it right after about 15 minutes.
Ben has a wife. And this fucking scares the shit out of me. I also walk next to him on the side which he has the most trouble hearing. I do this to make fun of him to his face without him knowing. It's hilarious.
Even though eating shitty burgers and perusing shops I've been in tens of times was loads (loads) of fun, I kind of regret missing your "David and Buster's" leg of the trip. Unfortunately I had a man-date with my grandfather (who was the leading actor in "Lemon Party") where we discussed political theory, trends in society, and how to induce queefing in females. He also anally-raped me. He now has AIDS.
In case you've been in a cave playing Pokemon Snaps the past few months, Call of Duty 4's online multiplayer is the most fun and addictive thing outside of snorting blow off of your cum-soaked six-year-old niece's corpse.
If near-realistic military first-person-shooters aren't your bag (which they should be, you lametard), you should at least check it out for the sake of the fantastic pool parties.
GISing for "pool party" has a lot of NSFW results. I was pleasantly surprised.
