YOU AIN’T NEVER GONNA WIN IF YOU DON’T PLAY.
THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A MINUTE…. ARE YOU ON THE FIELD OR IN THE STANDS. A WARRIOR OR A SPECTATOR? IF YOUR SINGING FIGHT SONGS FROM YOUR EASY CHAIR YOU HAVE LOTS OF COMPANY BUT NOBODY REALLY HEARS YOU.
GET UP AND GET IT ON. WORK HARD PLAY HARD, AND LEAVE A GOOD LOOKING CORPSE. OIL UP YOUR LOVE ROCKET, PLUCK THE HAIR OFF YOUR BUTT AND GO OUT AND HAVE A GOOD TIME.
RIDING DIRTY DIRTY DIRTY.
SNAKECHARMER
Good “F” King morning. How about another shot of “the sit show”?
I took a glance at the way a word looked on a page long after I wrote it. Maybe its the hour of the day, early early am (when the goblins chase me out of bed) or maybe its the amount of tequila (that’s the source of the goblins) or maybe its just a wacked out mind with nothing to do at the moment. Whatever the reason, take a look at the word (or candy coated conjunction) F-KING. It has no nasty in it at all. The “F” King must be a guy, a nobel guy, a man of highest morals and grand intent because “F” King is around all the time. He is on the tip of everybody’s tongue and used to describe almost anything from gutter to glorious.
This indeed, truly is the mark of the “F” King thing. I mean think about it….he really is everywhere. You hear about him on the street, as you pass by a group of skaters, “check out the “F” King kick flip”….why he must be a skater. He must also drive a taxi, I heard somebody ask specifically for the “F” King taxi. He is also in politics, a common question today “who do you think will be “F” King president?”
I mean, I find myself thinking that I would rather be “F” King”, than just talking, to the girl at the coffee shop. I wonder if she would vote for me to do the “F” King thing if she knew that I wanted to be the “F” King thing that she wanted to do?
It gets so out of hand that it make me “F” King crazy. That’s it! The whole world has gone “F” King crazy and they just don’t know how to say it. A long time ago “F” King was kept in the dark, hidden behind a cloak of other words used to describe the same thing. I am glad that we have evolved, cause now every thing can be linked to a “F” King thing and “F” King’s lineage is alive with princes, dukes and all sorts of other dignitaries. Think about it or better yet “F” it. Or sometimes ”F” her or “F” him. OR “F” that or this. Not to mention intercontinental applications, “F” you (Japanese).
So today, lets make it a “F” King of day. Have a grand time, though a party, get “F” King happy. I am going to invite ED to my party, he’s a great guy, fun to be around. Do me a favor would you? Get your big “F” King ass out of here and go find Ed. You know what, Ed is a prince of a man, he needs a title.
Go get “F” ED. I don’t know about you, but I feel “F” King great. Its good to be King. Even better to be the “F” King.
It’s good to be the ”F” King thing, that makes people crazy.
Ride Dirty or don’t ride with me.
The “F” King Snakecharmer
ok, it looks like the over the border gas/diesel deal has got a little presure from one government or another. On the last trip to cheap fuel land I hear that folks were told that they could not fill up “such a big tank”. Seems like the subsidy by the mexican governement does not include gringos who want to fill up a “grande tank”. I dont have all the facts yet but trust me I will dig ‘em up and keep you informed. For now, however, if you have a “grande tank” you ain’t gonna get it Grande filled, at least not without a little grease for the effort. Mexico is still a wonderful land filled with wonderful people who understand the value of service when it comes to that touch of class or extra coin. get the drift?
ride dirty and take an extra peso for paco when you fill up, it just makes good sense, no?
snakecharmer
OK, this one is killing me. It’s 7:00 am. The freeway is jammed because somebody crashed going North, on the same freeway I happen to be driving on. Traffic is backed up, people are getting pissed. It must have been a big wreck….yup, its sure was. The problem I have with all this shit is that WE ARE DRIVING SOUTH. The other way. Nobody crashed in our lanes. Everybody is fine over here. The cops are all over there, so why the hell aren’t we hauling ass? Oh no, we have to look, stare, try to see, yak back and forth on our f–king cell phones while we try to see….talking to somebody, telling them “how bad traffic is this morning”… The traffic would not exist if you morons would just drive and leave the stop and stare BS to the other side of the road. At least they can see something. Did I forget to mention that there is a great big cement wall between us and them? The kind you can’t see through, just barely peek over the top….if your in a tractor/trailer rig.
Now all of that has nothing to do with the topic o the day except it sets the stage. Remember its never the fall but the sudden stop that hurts. Anyway some folks were saving gas this morning, they were riding a scooter. When I say folks I mean two and when I say scooter I mean one. Some people are so damn stupid they should wear helmets, all day, on or off the scooter.
I carry a camera everywhere I go for occasions such as these. However, when opportunity knocked this morning the damn thing was somewhere deep up under my dash, smashed into that position because I had just laid down 40 feet of rubber and spilled a macho grande starbucks on my balls. That was my reward for missing the morons on the scooter. AS if this wasn’t enough, the two hells angles in front of me came right out of a circus. The one riding bitch had 10 asses, 9 of which had totally engulfed the seat. The pilot was about 85 pounds and hunkered over the bars with her chin damn near on the headlight. The fact that I drive a big, I mean big, diesel eating, gross polluting 4×4 on stilts was not even on their radar.
Communication is a wonderful thing but its best left to those who are evolved enough to use language. The two clowns in front of me had a system of communication that defied even my weird imagination. Fatty would twist and look behind and then smack bones on the side to which she thought they should turn. Bones would then turn the opposite way of the slap. Fatty would then slap again and yell “GO RIGHT” while slapping Bone’s left side. Dealing with them was like that dance you do in the grocery strore when you meet some idoit in an asile that can’t commit to go either way but instead just does the little shuffle in front of you…except i am in my truck and they are on a scooter, and I’ll be damned if we ain’t trying to go the same stinkin direction.
Remember the wreck? This pair of clowns is what I have in front of me, coffee is what I am about to get all over me. Fatty wacks bones on the left side trying to tell her about the wreck, Bones turns right, Fatty wacks right, Bones slips left, Fatty wacks again and Bones turns around to scream about the quality of the signals. Scooters bounce I guess. Because the last thing I saw before I damn near passed out from a pair of scalded balls was that scooter pinging off of the three cars around me like a pinball. At that point my balls were still fine and this was good entertainment. The part that got me and saved them, was this little tiny ray of red light peeping out from under Fatty’s ass. Instinct I guess, red lights no matter how small, make you jam the brake.
Do they know how close to death they were? Hell no. In a cloud of burning rubber, screaming from the burning pain I watch them keep driving down the line between the cars.
Oh yeah, one more thing. I can think of only one person who was even remotely happy to have been screwed this morning by the scooter riding freaks. This would be the feller who stuffed his hood under the back bumper of my truck. I couldn’t give two dead flys at the moment due to the fact that my happy sack was still on fire and fire was making a run towards my back porch. When he appears at my window, his face turns ashen, he thinks he’s at fault for the look of pain on my face. I am a decent dude, a damn prince of a man come to think of it. I don’t give a crap about being rear ended, its all I can do to snarl out that I’m leaving now and if your car is stuck up my ass you can have it back when it falls out. He just looks at me with his mouth hanging open. It hung open for about 30 yards, and so did his car.
And may I ask, how was your morning?
Snakecharmer
Every morning I get wound up about somthing. It starts with having three boys ages 13,13 ,14 rasing hell at 5:30 am about who is wearing what bling bling BS that day. It continues when I get to the office where I have contracted and continue to foster a very serious case of “client based turets syndrome”. Its unfortunate for for me, but the truth is, this crap is funny I dont care who you are. So, if Ican’t laugh at myself, I’m really getting left out of the fun ’cause everybody else is.
So, in an effort to ease the pain, blow some steam and let you join the rest who point and crack jokes at my expence, welcome to “The morning sit show”. I purposely left out the “h” in sit, why have rating issues right off the bat. Besides, the first 5 minutes of “your day at the desk” should set the stage for the rest of the day. “Sit down shut up and laugh”
This is an introduction. A stupid waste of time, but I wanted to make sure that my title, expected content and any other grand scheme relating to ‘the morning sit show” was imortalized here so that my stupidity in print and pictures gets all the respect is does’nt deserve and copyright protection to boot.
I wrote my last blog on the eve of this weekend, that more than likely i think is more fun than Christmas. We had the fireworks, the margaritas, a house full of kids and loud adults. now its time for the final hoe-down. the last party for the kick off of the summer. i am drafting this before the yee-haw all starts. the next one may have a lot to be desired in grammar and diction. but stay tuned. if you don’t see another post form me sometime late this evening then i probably took that trip downtown. can you please check to see if they will allow posting of bail?
getting ready to flog
Snakecharmer
Yup this is it, my favorite weekend of the year. We started it out with a few fireworks and the cops coming by to make sure that we were all safe. Gotta love that, there i am with a hard hot and goggles, match in one hand, nice cold margarita in the other, and fuses ready to be lit on the ground. All that concern over my safety. Damn i felt important. (by the way, that’s APPLE JUICE in the little one’s shot glass) [by the look in my eyes, the apples i drank got stuck in a barrel for a good long time before I got to ‘em]
i even had my favorite drinking partner with me.
She gets little mean when she drinks and damn near got me arrested. well i mean invited to go down town. i thought that was damn nice since gas is so expensive and a cab takes forever….. downtown is where its all going down, right? Suckers, did’nt follow through however, and here i sit drunk as a monkey and still not downtown.
Anyway we had a big family get together, useally during those we can count on at least a few of us getting to go downtown. nothing like a good dose of protect and serve, I think you guys are number “1″ heres to ya!!!
Anyway have a safe and happy weekend. if you see me walking pick me up. somebody must have took my keys and i probably don’t know my way home.
Flog it….
Snakecharmer
I know this is supposed to be a blog about off road parts, fabrication and Nissan race trucks but once in while you gotta write about somthing different. In that regard, this post is the wandering mind of a man lit up on 3 margartias and very little ice.
Watching the news tonight I saw a report that questioned if “gas theft” would start to be a problem. Hell no, as long as we don’t get caught. I mean really, don’t you have a Kentucky credit card in the back of your truck? For the uninitiated, that’s a section of clear hose, about 3/8″ in dia that slides right into almost any hole that has gas in it. Suck on that baby and you’ve got the makings for a cheap Friday night on the town. CLEAR HOSE, did you get that? This is important. Why you ask? Well, its friday night right? Just so you know, it’s next to impossible to get that hot chick wearing dasiy dukes and a wife beater to talk to you with “gas breath”… not good, not attractive. Here’s the point. with a clear hose you can see the damn gas BEFORE it gets in your yap while you are sucking your brains out trying to get it the siphon rolling. This whole siphon thing should be the making of every mans dream. No stupid, not sucking on the hose yourself, but the act in general, applied to a more specific task, one best done at your beck and call by the lovely daisy duke from the dew drop inn down on main street. THink about it men…I mean this takes a woman’s the best practices into consideration, first the blowing , then just as fast some sucking, and if it’s good there ain’t never a need to spit. Lets put that into the real mans rule-book for questions to ask before a first date. “Have you ever siphoned gas?” should be one of the first things we ask our prospective lovely counterparts. Follow that with, “are you any good at it?” Providing you get an affirmative to both questions you have got one hell of a night in front of you. Just think, you can get where you’re going for next to nothing and upon your arrival she wont spit. If you signed up for this dream date…..you might be a redneck.
Yup, that’s what i call Flogging the Blog.
Ride Dirty,
Snakecharmer
