Cars I’ve Owned: 2010 Ford Escape
I recently had the displeasure of driving to Dallas to pick up my new ride, as driving one-way rentals all over the f*cking planet had become a little cost-prohibitive, even for a high-flying 1%er like myself. Helpful hint for Dallas drivers: there is actually a full spectrum of pressures you can apply to the gas/brake pedals other than “stomp/slam.” Another note for Dallas drivers – if you are going to have a fender/bender at 6:30 PM, move your pieces of sh*t over to the side of the road, rather than have like 300,000 people go 3 mph for 75 minutes while you assess the $30 damage to your bumper. Also, state of Oklahoma – finish some of your f*cking construction! Your whole godforsaken state is coned up!
Interestingly, I did roughly the same amount of research in buying the world’s least threatening SUV as I did in buying my 911 almost five years earlier. F*cking internet…too much information to process – if you are thinking of buying a Ford Escape, feel free to contact me, I’ve got the market wired from Maine to San Diego. This is my first ever SUV or truck-type vehicle, and, so far – I kind of love it. It’s comfortable, I don’t have to worry about scraping the bumper all the damn time, it can transport more than two human-sized adults, but yet is too small for someone to ask me to move some furniture or other crap for them. Plus, it’s got satellite radio for some unknown reason (who’s paying $17/month for radio? F-to-the-uck that) and it is sweet hearing UTFO on the radio – I always loved how Full Force would show up on UTFO songs in some kind of participating understudy deal. (Although, if memory serves, I did see Full Force stand alone at the Fresh Festival in 1986 – might’ve been the LA Dream Team, though.)
Also, the Escape has an electric sunroof, meaning that I have completed the career grand slam of roof types; now I know how Federer felt when he finally won the French. (FYI – I don’t consider those after-market sunroofs that were popular for like a month in the early 80s to be a viable option, they were effectively just a hole cut in your roof covered with a small slab of plexiglass and sealed with 3-4 inches of rubber that protruded well above the glass part. After disfiguring your vehicle, you could then pop up the sunroof roughly one inch. Never had that kind of roof. I’m also not distinguishing between hardtop convertible and regular convertible – hardtop looks quite stupid when on, when off they look the same, so I’m lumping together.)
The Grand Slam of Roof Options for a Vehicle
- Coupe (ie no holes in roof or means of removing the roof temporarily): Ford Mustangs, Cutlass Supreme
- Cloth Sunroof (this is like the Masters or the French Open of roof options, by far the toughest to nail down): Renault Fuego
- Electric Sunroof (what’s a moonroof then?): Ford Escape
- Targa Top (if you need a tool kit, it’s probably not taking the targa part off): Chevrolet Corvette
- T-Tops (looks pretty stupid when the tops are off, but de rigueur in the 80s): Datsun 280ZX
- Convertible (can come off a little Californication-y) : Porsche 911
2010 Ford Escape, 2011 – present
Discriminating soccer moms are not impressed
Coolness: 4 (Not embarrassing, but doesn’t seem to really melt any panties either)
Appropriateness for Awkward Romantic Manuevers: N/A (Nothing attempted thus far – when you live with your 82 year old mom you have a pretty wild life already)
Transmission: 9-Speed Automatic (probably only like five speeds, but I don’t really know what the difference is in an automatic anyway)
Stereo: CD/AM/FM/Sirius w/ Ford Sync (The Sirius is pretty cool and the Ford Sync stuff should be really cool – it’s supposed to read your texts to you! – but it actually only works well with like Motorola Razrs and Blackberry 1.0s. So it’s basically a pretty loud bluetooth headset, which is nice anyway since I’m deaf.)
Description: It’s like a truck, but with a backseat, and then an area behind that. It’s not hard to get into (unless you are 82), it gets good gas mileage and is blue. Also, it has tires.
Later,
Chilly17
If Life Is Like The Star Wars Saga, I’m Apparently In The Empire Stage
Posted by: chilly17 in Daily Grind on January 3rd, 2012
Fuck midichlorians, my version of the force is more of a three-legged stool of awesomeness.
2011 was not a great time in Chillyville; I’m hoping this is just the critically (lauded and) important second stage of my adulthood where personal crises will eventually lead to victory parades and medals and shit. Like a Jedi-in-training, I find myself in unfamiliar environs dealing with issues (including the loss of extremities) that I’m currently ill-prepared for – I’m probably gonna find myself sleeping in the entrails of a tauntaun soon. The key difference between my situation and Empire is that, when living with an 82 year old lady, average room temperature in the house more closely approximates the surface of the sun than the ice planet Hoth.
Anyway, the only nugget I have gleaned here is: if you ever find yourself living in such a way that you have little to no responsibility, and just get to do whatever the fuck you choose pretty much all the time, don’t put yourself in a position where you suddenly have multiple responsibilities to multiple parties. Because, you will find that responsibility is quite a shock to the system after years of boozing/tv for like six hours a night. Such a shock that even jugs of Yellow Tail might lose much of their morale-boosting power.
Anyway, I feel that the dawn of 2012 is gonna start melting the proverbial carbonite (I have chosen to mix my metaphor). I have some ideas to turn that frown upside down (and maybe start generating some positive cash flow?) and might even detail my progress here for my seven faithful readers (and the thirteen other slutty ones). I have tried to take some time and figure out what I really want to try and accomplish, as to this point my trogging effort has been haphazard and sluggish at best. There’s still about 439 things I think I would be great at, but unfortunately, my only proven expertise remains playing foosball, giving nicknames, and getting large groups of people to walk pretty far for lunch (all difficult to monetize). (One positive note: two buddies and I totally had the idea for a Netflix-for-ties about a year ago, an idea that Taco recently appropriated on The League (a program that has grown on me). So there’s that – but kudos to Taco for calling it Neckflix, nice touch.)
Advances in Hospital Technology (Probably an ISRG product)
One thing that I did not know until recently – now, at select hospitals, when you go to the surgery waiting room they give you one of those vibrating polygonal light things like you get at fine restaurants like Olive Garden or Red Lobster. I think our Pavlovian response to these buzzers is probably pretty positive since the buzzing/flashing light is usually followed by the consumption of 14 cheese biscuits. The ones for surgeries are a little more sophisticated, of course – they have two lines of LCD text like an old school blackberry, and give updates like “surgery has started” and “surgery completed, patient did well and is in recovery room.” Seems like there would be some drawbacks to this device, though, if shit is going downhill – does it just say “patient died” if somebody expires on the table? Spares the doctor a trip to the waiting room? Maybe they should let some third party narrate the events XBox 360 style? ”Homeboy bleedin out!”? In five years they’ll probably just text you, so you’ll be free to hang out wherever you want while sweating out the surgery.
Later – much more coming soon, including a new entry in the Cars I’ve Owned: A Visual History series,
Chilly17
The Case Against: Songs Where People Just Talk About Their Day
Posted by: chilly17 in The Case Against: on December 1st, 2011
Little known fact: Suzanne Vega auditioned for the role of Elaine
(Editor’s Note: I started writing this six weeks ago, before my face had been splashed all over everywhere as one of “The 1%.” I got the email that my face was on The View and I prepared for my future life as a pundit, as surely they would want to hear from one of the folks they specifically requested explain their “actions” – to the extent that going to a fucking party is an “action” worthy of explanation. Of course, no one at The View responded to me, so here I am, still toiling as an unpaid internet hack. I guess punditry wasn’t in the cards – I could’ve fucking been taping I Love The 00s right now, but nooooo, I’m finishing this column.
Additional backstory (whether you like it or not): Chillyvile has undergone significant personal upheaval in recent weeks. I re-inherited my beloved dog (from an XSO’s Dad, don’t ask), which required me to fly to Milwaukee, drive to Memphis, get her used to me again, then drive to NYC. After a month in NYC, the aforementioned significant personal upheaval led me to rent yet another car and drive back to Arkansas, beloved dog in tow. I am now a man without a country, hanging out with my dad in the nursing home as much as possible to reduce some of the strain on my mom (not completely altruistic, also want her not to freak the fuck out about the fact there’s another dog in the house) and to enjoy the good days he has. So the happy-go-lucky days are somewhat a distant memory, but I’m gonna get back on top of shit. Right now I guess I’m gonna finish this, to the extent that I don’t boil in my own skin while drinking some Stump Jump. Friendly tip: do not drink red wine if the thermostat is controlled by an 82 year old.)
The original title of this post was going to be “I’ve Had Just About Enough of Bruno Mars” until I learned that he doesn’t sing the song that inspires homicidal vitriol in my heart. I’m in Memphis at the moment, via an early flight yesterday into Milwaukee to reclaim The Greatest Dog Ever (TGDE) followed by a drive through various and sundry midwestern states including Wisconsin (my least favorite accent in the U.S. and second only to Cockney for worst ever), Illinois (very polite with the construction signs – “there will be some barrels on the road in 4 miles” followed by “two miles to barrels” then “danger: approaching a couple orange barrels” and then, sure enough, two barrels, followed by “Thanks for not fucking speeding in this construction zone”), Missouri (pretty sure I caught some secondhand meth smoke as I crossed that Winter’s Bone bridge), Arkansas (where the damn day started) and then T-T-T-Tennessee. I’m pretty sure this isn’t proper paragraph construction as none of the follow-on sentences had anything to do with the opening.
(So I’ll go to the parenthetical – not just to talk about my heartland travel day, but because typing “parenthetical” gives me kind of a self-satisfied rush. Anyway, one recurring theme whenever I had to talk to someone today was that person’s fascination with what brought me to their fine state. It’s kind of an invasive question; I prefer to reveal stuff to strangers only in the murky anonymity of the internet. Explaining that you flew to get a dog and then were renting a series of one-way cars to decide where that dog would ultimately reside was a little too much for me to give the car rental lady. I did learn, however, that car rental ladies in Wisconsin don’t have a great capacity for processing obviously absurd answers like “came here to help a friend bury a dead hooker.” Lesson learned. I just went with “here to visit my uncle” for the next series of gas station attendants, toll booth operators, etc who were mystified by the presence of such an exotic foreigner in their midst.)
So I’ve been listening to a fair amount of regular old FM radio, which has loosened up somewhat from last year’s rigid “we play Katy, Gaga, Ke$ha and Rihanna, then somebody else, then start back over with more K,G,K and R” playlist. Now they play a whole range of stuff including Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Ke$ha, Katy Perry, Rihanna, Pitbull, Jason Derulo* and Lil Wayne (who I think is now just soliciting random strangers at the mall as guest rappers – call me, Lil!). But the one f*cking trend that I cannot stand is the song where people just talk about their day – and I mean just talk. I get that it’s a little hypocritical since I tend to like rap music – “Today Was A Good Day” is a classic – but it’s clear up front that rapping is basically just talking about one’s day in some kind of rhyming manner. But I cannot tolerate that Taylor Swift sh*t where she is talking about how the other chick wears short skirts and she wears jeans or whatever – not just for the idiotic lyrics, but Taylor Swift is supposed to be this amazing vocal talent and I don’t get it.
Anyway, there are several examples of this phenomenon that I could cite, but I hate them so much that I just change the station. There is one that stands above all others though – I will not name it since it’s the (supposedly) lyrical equivalent of inciting Beezlebub. The one that starts with “I had a really, really messed up week.” (If you don’t know it, and hear it come on, I suggest somehow muffling the sound for the next four minutes to prevent aneurysm.) I don’t know who sings it (I’m stunned it’s not Bruno Mars though, I hate “The Lazy Song” as well and thought it was the same guy as that piece of sh*t.) There are songs that make you change the station or maybe turn down the volume; this song makes me turn off the radio and pull over in the nearest open area; I have to pace like an expectant parent for a few minutes to get the hatred out of my system. Again, I won’t go into detail about how awful this fucking thing is, but it’s got so many ridiculous “this song is right now” conventions to it – mentions Zach Galifianakis, Twitter**, California Dimes***. Words are not the appropriate medium to express my detestation. Fuck I hate it.
Anyway, there’s only one song that can get away with the whole “I’m a singer, but I’m just gonna talk about what I did today and you can do fuck all about it.” As everyone in the fucking world knows, that song is “Tom’s Diner.” More on that later.
* What the fuck is up with Jason Derulo and that whole “Jjjjjjjjason Derulo” effect in every one of his songs? Does anybody else make their name a sound effect thing like that? It’s like that Playstation noise, except much more annoying. Although, if I ever get a guest rapper gig, I’m definitely getting the “Chchchchchillllyyy Seventeen” effect.
** Okay, the song doesn’t really mention Twitter, it’s “quit her” but it’s close enough for me to hate it even more for not going there when I guarantee the first 875 drafts of the lyrics had “Twitter” in there.
** I’m cool with the objectification of women (or men, for that matter), in general. But the concept of localized rankings is annoying – if there’s a scale, it should be universal. Not “Vegas 10″ just “10.” And “dime” is stupid slang for “10″ – dime is already widely recognized as “assist” so fuck off with that jargon. It isn’t the BCS, there shouldn’t be regional debate. Objectify nationally, volunteer locally.
Later,
Chilly17 aka .01
