Hot as bejesus today, I guess someone decided to stick to that whole "Its summer 'til the 21st" jazz. Fortunately, I rather optimistically bought clothes that I can wear in New Orleans in October, which is also hot as bejesus.
Went to SoHo without a magic marker today, came back with a tie and a wallet, just in case, and I got to shove a Rolls Royce limo out of the middle of Spring Street.
The last was the germ of an idea for a creative outlet which I will likely never actually produce: I am going to be a diving critic. Anyone who has ever ridden with me will note that I already am a driving critic, but I figured it would be fun to blog, so that everyone can appreciate just how creatively I can work the phrase "cretinous jackass" into sentences.
Lets try a dry run:
Location: Manhattan, Spring and Elizabeth
Vehicle: Vintage Rolls Royce Silver Cloud Brougham
Offending Driver: Portly, Middle Aged livery guy with too small oxford shirt and a map of Ireland on his nose.
Offending behavior: Now, I'm a big fan of vintage cars and bikes, and I'm generally inclined to cut them a lot of slack. They break up the landscape of gel cap shaped compacts and Canyoneros and give me something to look at. I even usually feel the same way about balding middle aged men in Italian supercars. I likewise mostly defer to the tribulations of professional drivers (except LA Bus drivers, they can eat a dick). That said, however, when I can smell the cloud of gasoline three cars back as you repeatedly try to restart your aging behemoth the engine is fucking flooded. If you get it to turn over, all you're going to get is a fireball. Give it up and call a fucking tow.
Went to SoHo without a magic marker today, came back with a tie and a wallet, just in case, and I got to shove a Rolls Royce limo out of the middle of Spring Street.
The last was the germ of an idea for a creative outlet which I will likely never actually produce: I am going to be a diving critic. Anyone who has ever ridden with me will note that I already am a driving critic, but I figured it would be fun to blog, so that everyone can appreciate just how creatively I can work the phrase "cretinous jackass" into sentences.
Lets try a dry run:
Location: Manhattan, Spring and Elizabeth
Vehicle: Vintage Rolls Royce Silver Cloud Brougham
Offending Driver: Portly, Middle Aged livery guy with too small oxford shirt and a map of Ireland on his nose.
Offending behavior: Now, I'm a big fan of vintage cars and bikes, and I'm generally inclined to cut them a lot of slack. They break up the landscape of gel cap shaped compacts and Canyoneros and give me something to look at. I even usually feel the same way about balding middle aged men in Italian supercars. I likewise mostly defer to the tribulations of professional drivers (except LA Bus drivers, they can eat a dick). That said, however, when I can smell the cloud of gasoline three cars back as you repeatedly try to restart your aging behemoth the engine is fucking flooded. If you get it to turn over, all you're going to get is a fireball. Give it up and call a fucking tow.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
But why single out the LA bus drivers?
Ciel mentioned these watches to me, and I thought you might like to take a look too