Welcome To My Hell

After nearly six months of practice and doing nothing but improving my b kick. I went outside after work, took my shoes off, prepped for launch, nailed it.

Video to come.

P.S. w00t!

Now, lets be clear right away. This random tangent likely arose from a combination of falling asleep and waking up at 3:15AM, playing the new Penny-Arcade game, not getting to race this evening, followed then by standard web browsing…For standard stuff. On the web. That isn’t porn.

…Seriously, it wasn’t porn.

If it were porn it’s likely I wouldn’t be able to hold interest in the topic of sex for more then a second and this post would not exist.

I saw an ad for Trojan condoms, and I got thinking back to the good old awful days of middle/high school. For you 80’s babies: Do you remember a time before you were having sex and possession of a condom was taboo, parhaps strange, yet cooler then hell? They were like having a seemingly rare sought after item. Condoms at that age were priceless items worth about a dollar. I remember all the creative places I had known friends to hide them even if sex wasn’t something yet on their weekly agenda. (The battery compartment on an old radio being my favorite.) People collected them like they were the fucking pogs of the generation. Ring shaped impressions on wallets were badges of honor for some reason. (Ironically being a resounding sign of ignorance as well.) No one ever used them. They would just packrat a many as they could get their hands on “Just in case.”. Yeah right. Everyone knew that said case would not come to pass anytime soon. And certainly by the time it did, we were aware of the impending event at least hours in advance.

Sex died. I think. Either that, or myself and others have become completely desensitized in the sheer saturation of sex. It’s everywhere. I can’t logon to MySpace without someone I’ve never met trying to pries my money from my wallet via a vagina. You can’t escape it. Hell, you can’t even read some 22 year old’s blog without running into it. Eh?

It’s almost upsetting. I’d love more then anything to be able to ‘turn sex off’, so to speak, for just one week or something. One week where I wasn’t reminded by a bus stop advertisement that I was not a member of the group of roughly 20 million people who were currently having sex. And quite honestly, I don’t want to be. Not that I’m opposed to the idea. But can’t I be sexual on my own time and of my own free will?

It kind of makes me connect on a very minimal level with some conservatives on the matter. In their day, sex was much different. Even if you don’t like their ideas, you have to at least acknowledge the fact that those views were cemented in before most of them were twenty. In an age where sex was not exactly table conversation in the same way that it is today. I’m almost certain that I’m experiencing the same shock they do. You know, that whole “What the hell happened?!” sort of feeling. If you want to better understand the feeling I speak of, find some music that you grew up with from the ages of 12 to 18. Now turn on the radio to any Hip-Hop station… See?

In today’s fast paced internet driven frenzy of a society, ideas and values change fast. The ideological evolution of the human species had been put on fast forward with a hint of methamphetamine. It used to be that things were “in” or “cool” for about 5 years. Now they are cool for about 5 weeks. Sometimes 5 minutes. Styles would change over the decades. You referred to old styles of clothing as “60’s” or “80’s”. However, now we refer to old styles as 2002, or 2004. I think those women’s peasant shirts with the flowing sleeves made it about 8 months before the next big thing came along. Had that style come to fruition twenty years ago they would have probably been the next poodle skirt.

If I had to point blame. I’d place it squarely on the shoulders of technology. Break ups over the phone. Couples sending texts to each other more often then they see the other in person. Sexual encounters with strangers are choreographed on the internet. We have no time anymore. We need that gratification, and we need it right now. Tomorrow we will need more gratification and we will need it even faster. And it is the internet that is feeding our addiction.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my computer. I love the internet. Together they are responsible for my having a job. Understand that I do not consider technology to be evil, though I do believe that many recent technologies influence human nature in a way that degrades the overall quality of our human existence. The price we pay for speed and convenience is that of being forced to dehumanize regular social interaction. Is it worth it?

It only makes sense that sex’s social standing would change faster then some others. With an instant delivery system like the internet, coupled with the fact that sex always was, and still is one the best topics of conversation, no matter the tautological repetition of the well known procedure, stories with details of a drunk party with your ex and her best friend trying to talk into wearing a dress in exchange for a blowjob from both of them — *ahem* — never get boring.

Like a fine wine. — This weekend. Ah… An excellent year. We had just got back from a meal at Texas Roadhouse. A rather noisy (given) and uncomfortable meal. The cause likely being somewhere between throwing up an antibiotic and it being painful to eat with my recent dental work.

So last Saturday, both me and my counterpart Vann could practically taste it. It was the first day of the year where the temperature had broken 80 degrees. The cars were out. I knew without a doubt that State St. (A popular cruising/racing road) would be absolutely crawling with scores of 18 to 20 something drivers looking to show everyone who swings the big dick.

We both were thinking it. But we were both hesitant after having thoroughly renounced illegal racing as well as agreeing that the risks and dangers far outweighed the fleeting feeling of showing someone you’ll never see again that you are better then they are. We both agreed that the people who cruised State were the ones with insecurities about they’re position in the laughable weekly totem pole of the illegal racing scene.

Then, of course, we snapped back to reality. “Wait a minute! WE swing the big dick. Let us go hence and prove it to them with a motorized vehicle!” (Too many people these day trying to stick it to their fellow man with possessions, women, and success. Get with it people.)

Boredom? Check.
Raging unspent testosterone? Check.
Perceived emasculation by social sanction and outcast? Check.
A tangible means to which we can vent this unspoken indignation? Check.

It was worse then I thought. About 11:00 PM. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a turbocharged car. It was greatly gratifying and equally disappointing to find that there was next to no ricers out. All of the cars that were bold enough to risk losing their car or a good deal of money were all pretty new/fast/expensive. Vann was rocking the GTO; It was most worthy boasting an LS2 engine.

It was a new and interesting feeling. My first thought was “Yay! No riced out cars on State tonight! Wooo! We’re going to have some real racing!” followed very quickly by “Wait a minute, who am I going to make fun of?”

We probably only saw one or two cars that evening that were mexi’d out with the popular (loud exhaust + rims = 250WHP)mentality. I too am guilty of possessing such a vehicle. But God knows I don’t try to race it.

We also had ran across a White Jetta with not a shred of Dynamat in his “sound system” equiped vehicle. His trunk was vibrating worse then an old car on bad gas going uphill. Everyone around us was starting at him in amazement. Maybe it was he who truly ruled the road that night. As far as he thought at least. He had no shame at all about looking like the biggest douche on the road. I want to be that guy. I think he won the content as far as truly realizing that he doesn’t know any of these people and wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning.

Night rolls on. Drags to 40 MPH. Engine revs. Nothing serious. But then we came to realize that we were at a red light with red and black GTO’s on both sides, three abreast. Naturally at that point a race was pretty much mandatory.

Now for those who haven’t done it. Racing on a street that you KNOW has a police cruiser around every corner and intersection. It’s quite amazing how the adrenaline and feeling of duty over powers your sense of reason. In your head you quickly run a simple logic: “If I get caught, I could lose my car, my job (truck driver), and pay a lot of money. If I don’t, I can show this no-name guy whom I will never see again that I’m a better driver then he is.”

The answer is obvious to those who do it.

Race.

Now, on the street it’s the adrenaline rush and possibility of getting busted.
On the track the feeling is a bit more intense… The sound of the burnout, the smell of hot oil, mixed with the acrid smell of tire smoke, and the strangely sweet smell of racing gas fumes overloads the senses. Spectators and crewmen near the starting line, lean away from the ever increasing noise, wincing, with fingers in their ears. You look over to your opponent. He looks inhuman strapped down by the mesh of belts. Dehumanized with his crash helmet and tinted visor. You wonder how such a fragile human can look so merged into such a powerful machine. Deep down, this is truly frightening at an instinctual level.
This is why track racing is the best in any case.

Green Light. The three of us take off. A modified LS1, and two stock LS2’s. Dead even up to 50.

60.

70. We pull ahead.

80 MPH.

– Now if the adrenaline from the race wasn’t enough. The somersault that the faithful glands on top of your kidneys do as you fly past two cops going the other direction and seeing their roof lights fire up will make you nearly vomit on the spot.

At this point my pilot doesn’t see them. I believe I informed yelled at him to get to the next intersection and turn about 8 times before it really registered why.

The potential consequences finally click. Throttle open. We’re screaming to the next intersection, I have my head backwards waiting for the headlights of the cars to come into our side of the road. Both police cars spin around and come after us with clear intent. Before I know it we take the hardest right turn I think has ever been taken in the car. I have my head spun around the whole time looking for headlights that might come around the corner. The Black GTO turns off. We pass. One GTO is a possibility. Two of them would have been a dead giveaway.

Next road. We turn into a building, wing the car around the back. Engine off. Lights off. Silent as the dead. Sitting without movement as if a whisper would have given us away.

5 minutes of terror and we finally start to calm. “If they we’re going to find us, they’d have found us by now.”

Moral of the story:
Racing is fun. Track racing is fun. Illegal Racing is fun but with many dangers and too much risk. If you are not willing to lose your license, car, and a good deal of money, don’t do it. For those of you who are: Maybe I’ll see you next week.

Yeah, finally got a new machine.

Specs:
Intel Core 2 Quad Q6600 2.4GHz LGA 775
Intel LGA 775 Intel 975X ATX Motherboard
4GB DDR2 800Mhz Gskill RAM
640GB 7200 RPM SATAT 3.0Gb/s Hard Drive
Two DIAMOND Viper Radeon 512MB 3870’s running in Crossfire
GameXStream OCZ 700W ATX12V Power Supply

Crossfire = Teh Awesome. Haven’t found a game I can’t run at full settings.

So I am now the proud owner of four fake teeth. Those who know me saw that coming. Heh.

My teeth have always been a problem for me — and my whole family really. No matter how much I took care of them, or how little, it didn’t seem to make a difference.

Anyway, it only cost me a measley $7,500. Chump change right? *Sigh* *Shoots self*

Anyway, they’re just temps at the moment. They are too white for my mouth, which is kinda funny. Not teeth white. More of that unnatural, bleached white.

From here it’s just dealing with the pain of just having just had three root canals. Woot!

Side note. The nurse was insanely attractive and most enjoyable to be around. She commented on my tie knot and everything. So about 10 second before I’m about to ask her to dinner, she mentioned her fiance has the same tie and dresses/acts/looks exactly like me. — Nice.

Why is it that the women who would really like me have already found me?

Yeah, like the title says, I got my wisdom teeth out. T’was painful at first. But nothing compared to the pain of the preceding infection. This is one of a long string of dental visits. Next time I’m getting two more out. Then a root canal. Then a bridge, etc. etc.

I knew my teeth situation was bad, so I’m not too worried. I figure I’m going to try to milk my insurance for anything I can.

So this morning Tom’s laptop decided to go one the fritz. For whatever reason, as soon as the power supply was plugged into the back, the power pack would immediately power down and not charge. The green LED on the power supply went out and everything as if it were detecting a short or over charge.

So after standard troubleshooting, debate on the cause of the anomaly, and then looking up a replacement part, we had the original idea of dropping it on the ground. If it can work for a case fan, then it could work for this, right?

No bullshit, Tom dropped it on the ground. I plugged it in.

Power Status: AC Power.

Last night was a scene straight out of The Secret of My Success.

3:00 AM. I’m trying to sleep. And I’m awaken by an unexpected but certainly not unrecognizable sound. But with my inability to sleep though it. I figured I would at least conduct the symphony for my own amusement. It went something like this.

Note: Try ot ignore the amateur film editing.

I’m also getting my computer tomorrow. I would have had it last Friday had Wells Fargo not flagged the payment to newegg.com as a fraudulent charge that eventually ended with me calling my bank up, telling them the charge was fine, and then missing the shipping window that day on newegg. Thus, causing my parts to be shipped the day after as opposed to the day before. And landing my shipping date on Monday the 5th; not Friday the 2nd.

After many payments to newegg.com in the past, some of them for even greater amounts of money, they flag this one.

…*sigh* I’m sooo switching banks soon.

I’m teaching a Dreamweaver class today, and I’ve noticed that all of my Dreamweaver classes are nearly always majoraly populated by middle aged women.

[Side note. Not even kidding you. The women in the back just pulled out a crochet hook. Heh. I rest my case.]

Designing websites is going to be the quilting of the next decade. It makes perfect sense. Both are similar. Both are usually colorful. You have to gather material, or content. You have to lay it out. And then of course you have the time consuming yet not too difficult task of putting it together. And will a little creativity — Voila. Digital quilt.