(no subject)
Well, the last couple days have been an insane amount of fun. Let me start.
The other day, Friday, I think, Luke, myself, and Fernando took my car to Walmart to pick up something incredibly awesome. We all bought airsoft pistols, which are fucking insanely cool. We took them into the car, and since I was driving, I was cursing up a storm in traffic (Traffic with a manual = teh sux). But eventually, we got to Luke's house, at which point, we set up targets and fucking rocked the shit out of it. Luke was the best (The only one with prior gun experience), I was okay, and poor Nando was god-fucking-awful with it. However, that's life, right?
We played some Anarchy Online afterwards, and I took a nap later. I then woke up and decided that I was tired and should drive home, because I had to be home in a couple of hours anyway. After some super cheesy AO jokes (OLIVER, IF YOU REZ, YOU WON'T HAVE ENOUGH POINTS IN VEHICLE TO DRIVE LOLOLOL [If you understood that, you suck]) and throwing my airsoft pistol in my trunk, I headed home. Once home, I commenced with passing out.
Next day, I woke up and my parents told me that they'd fork out some money for a late graduation present. I went to Sam Ash with Fernando, and there we tested out amps. I tried out a marshall and a line 6, both of which had some issues. I settles on a Peavey Transtube 212 efx, but I'm having a couple problems with it. First of which, the only way I can get the distorted tone I want is if it's insanely loud. However, it has so many effects and nice things with it that I don't mind.
When I got home with it, I decided it'd be a good idea to tell my dad about the airsoft pistol I had (For those that are unaware, my father is very anti-gun due to being shot). I figured, hell, it's an airsoft gun, he won't give a shit. All I'm doing is target practicing.
Holy fuck, was I wrong.
He fucking got so upset about it, and I was just like, fuck this, I'm dropping it off at Luke's house. My dad was like, "You don't have to" but you know that voice that tells you that you NEED to do something but that your parent doesn't have enough balls to tell you what to do? Yeah, I heard that voice. I knew my life would suck if I kept it here.
So I start out going on the 408 to 417 south, which is around where Luke lives. It was raining pretty badly, and there's a wicked curve between the ramps. On one side is giant ass concrete barrier, and on the other side is basically a giant ass lake bed. I turned my car and then turned a bit more, to the sudden realization that I was hydroplaining insanely. I tried to turn it a bit more, but no luck. The nose of my car was pointed to about 2 o'clock while I was moving towards 12 o'clock, if that makes sense to you guys. I didn't even have time to mutter "Oh, fuck!"
I went ass-end first down into the lake bed, which was fairly fucking steep, and about 10 feet down. I spun around twice, I think, and ended up facing forwards. After this, I tried not to shit my pants and tried to get moving again. My tires were spinning, but I wasn't moving. I got out of the car and realized that the water, due to the rain, was about 7 or 8 inches deep, and I was tire-deep in mud. So I got back in my car and called my dad up. Our conversation went like this.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, dad. Got a hypothetical question for you"
"Go for it."
"Let's say you're stuck in the mud. What's the best way to get out?"
"Call a wrecker"
"Fuck that."
I tried to rock my car back in forth by going forward an inch, throwing it in reverse, going backward an inch, etc, to try to gain momentum. No luck, whatsoever.
"FUCK!!!!!!!!!!"
"Calm down, your mom and I will be up there in a minute with a triple A card. Are you gonna relax and sit tight?"
"No, fuck that."
Let's just say at this point, a cop pulled over on the side of the road. I told my dad I had to go.
He was a cordial enough fellow, but felt the need to tell me that I took the curve too fast (Hah, who would've thought that?) He told me that because my car and I were in fine condition (Except for being stuck) that he couldn't write me a ticket. I wished him well then he left.
About 3 minutes later, an Ambulance came and I had the same conversation, saying that everything was fine except for being stuck.
My parents finally got there and we called triple A while I was basically shitting bricks. The wrecker said he'd be there in about an hour, and by the time I got off the phone, yet another cop pulled up behind me.
Now, this guy wasn't fucking around. He looked like motherfucking Sam Jackson, and acted like the Sam Jackson from Pulp Fiction; not a guy to forget your yessir's and nosir's to. He asked me for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. I gave them to him and he sat down in his car, and told me to sit in my parents'.
I sat in the car, shitting a brick because I fucking KNEW he was gonna write me a ticket, I knew it, because he was a hardass. After about 30 minutes, he knocked on my window and handed me back all my stuff.
"Here's a report. If there's anything wrong with your car, show it to your insurance and get it taken care of. Be careful."
I was amazed, because he seemed like a giant jerk, but all he did was help me out. That ruled.
Finally, the wrecker came. A Haitian man was driving it, and through his thick accent, I couldn't understand anything. He undid his wench to see if he could get to me, but it wasn't even half long enough.
"Oh, fuck!" I said. My normal sense of not cursing in front of people who are way older than me was shot to shit.
"Well, mahn, we'z gon' 'ave to try sumtin' else" he said.
He then grabbed every rope he had on his wrecker and knotted them together, attacked that to the winch, and finally was able to get to my car. However, each time we move up some, we had to remove ropes, but since the knots were so tight, we couldn't get them off. He brought a knife out of his car.
"Fuckin' piece o' shit, mahn. Knife don't work, yah?" he said.
I started thinking to myself and said in a voice that reeked of "This is a bad idea, but it's all I can think of"...
"Well...I mean...We can...burn it." I didn't even look at him as I said it; I looked to the ground, almost as if I was ashamed that I thought of it.
"Well, let's light this beech up!" he shouted as he grabbed a can of diesel from his truck. I fucking laughed for the first time in hours.
So we're settin' there, pouring diesel on ropes, setting fires in the middle of the expressway. Fucking gold.
Eventually I got out, and we went to a gas station. It was there that I learned that I had 2 flat tires.
Today, I spent all of it fixing the tires, however, I now have a third tire that's leaking air. I'm gonna get it fixed tuesday morning.
So yeah, that was a fucking experience, alright. Everyone who's seen the car and where I did it has told me that I am the fucking luckiest man on the planet.
The other day, Friday, I think, Luke, myself, and Fernando took my car to Walmart to pick up something incredibly awesome. We all bought airsoft pistols, which are fucking insanely cool. We took them into the car, and since I was driving, I was cursing up a storm in traffic (Traffic with a manual = teh sux). But eventually, we got to Luke's house, at which point, we set up targets and fucking rocked the shit out of it. Luke was the best (The only one with prior gun experience), I was okay, and poor Nando was god-fucking-awful with it. However, that's life, right?
We played some Anarchy Online afterwards, and I took a nap later. I then woke up and decided that I was tired and should drive home, because I had to be home in a couple of hours anyway. After some super cheesy AO jokes (OLIVER, IF YOU REZ, YOU WON'T HAVE ENOUGH POINTS IN VEHICLE TO DRIVE LOLOLOL [If you understood that, you suck]) and throwing my airsoft pistol in my trunk, I headed home. Once home, I commenced with passing out.
Next day, I woke up and my parents told me that they'd fork out some money for a late graduation present. I went to Sam Ash with Fernando, and there we tested out amps. I tried out a marshall and a line 6, both of which had some issues. I settles on a Peavey Transtube 212 efx, but I'm having a couple problems with it. First of which, the only way I can get the distorted tone I want is if it's insanely loud. However, it has so many effects and nice things with it that I don't mind.
When I got home with it, I decided it'd be a good idea to tell my dad about the airsoft pistol I had (For those that are unaware, my father is very anti-gun due to being shot). I figured, hell, it's an airsoft gun, he won't give a shit. All I'm doing is target practicing.
Holy fuck, was I wrong.
He fucking got so upset about it, and I was just like, fuck this, I'm dropping it off at Luke's house. My dad was like, "You don't have to" but you know that voice that tells you that you NEED to do something but that your parent doesn't have enough balls to tell you what to do? Yeah, I heard that voice. I knew my life would suck if I kept it here.
So I start out going on the 408 to 417 south, which is around where Luke lives. It was raining pretty badly, and there's a wicked curve between the ramps. On one side is giant ass concrete barrier, and on the other side is basically a giant ass lake bed. I turned my car and then turned a bit more, to the sudden realization that I was hydroplaining insanely. I tried to turn it a bit more, but no luck. The nose of my car was pointed to about 2 o'clock while I was moving towards 12 o'clock, if that makes sense to you guys. I didn't even have time to mutter "Oh, fuck!"
I went ass-end first down into the lake bed, which was fairly fucking steep, and about 10 feet down. I spun around twice, I think, and ended up facing forwards. After this, I tried not to shit my pants and tried to get moving again. My tires were spinning, but I wasn't moving. I got out of the car and realized that the water, due to the rain, was about 7 or 8 inches deep, and I was tire-deep in mud. So I got back in my car and called my dad up. Our conversation went like this.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, dad. Got a hypothetical question for you"
"Go for it."
"Let's say you're stuck in the mud. What's the best way to get out?"
"Call a wrecker"
"Fuck that."
I tried to rock my car back in forth by going forward an inch, throwing it in reverse, going backward an inch, etc, to try to gain momentum. No luck, whatsoever.
"FUCK!!!!!!!!!!"
"Calm down, your mom and I will be up there in a minute with a triple A card. Are you gonna relax and sit tight?"
"No, fuck that."
Let's just say at this point, a cop pulled over on the side of the road. I told my dad I had to go.
He was a cordial enough fellow, but felt the need to tell me that I took the curve too fast (Hah, who would've thought that?) He told me that because my car and I were in fine condition (Except for being stuck) that he couldn't write me a ticket. I wished him well then he left.
About 3 minutes later, an Ambulance came and I had the same conversation, saying that everything was fine except for being stuck.
My parents finally got there and we called triple A while I was basically shitting bricks. The wrecker said he'd be there in about an hour, and by the time I got off the phone, yet another cop pulled up behind me.
Now, this guy wasn't fucking around. He looked like motherfucking Sam Jackson, and acted like the Sam Jackson from Pulp Fiction; not a guy to forget your yessir's and nosir's to. He asked me for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. I gave them to him and he sat down in his car, and told me to sit in my parents'.
I sat in the car, shitting a brick because I fucking KNEW he was gonna write me a ticket, I knew it, because he was a hardass. After about 30 minutes, he knocked on my window and handed me back all my stuff.
"Here's a report. If there's anything wrong with your car, show it to your insurance and get it taken care of. Be careful."
I was amazed, because he seemed like a giant jerk, but all he did was help me out. That ruled.
Finally, the wrecker came. A Haitian man was driving it, and through his thick accent, I couldn't understand anything. He undid his wench to see if he could get to me, but it wasn't even half long enough.
"Oh, fuck!" I said. My normal sense of not cursing in front of people who are way older than me was shot to shit.
"Well, mahn, we'z gon' 'ave to try sumtin' else" he said.
He then grabbed every rope he had on his wrecker and knotted them together, attacked that to the winch, and finally was able to get to my car. However, each time we move up some, we had to remove ropes, but since the knots were so tight, we couldn't get them off. He brought a knife out of his car.
"Fuckin' piece o' shit, mahn. Knife don't work, yah?" he said.
I started thinking to myself and said in a voice that reeked of "This is a bad idea, but it's all I can think of"...
"Well...I mean...We can...burn it." I didn't even look at him as I said it; I looked to the ground, almost as if I was ashamed that I thought of it.
"Well, let's light this beech up!" he shouted as he grabbed a can of diesel from his truck. I fucking laughed for the first time in hours.
So we're settin' there, pouring diesel on ropes, setting fires in the middle of the expressway. Fucking gold.
Eventually I got out, and we went to a gas station. It was there that I learned that I had 2 flat tires.
Today, I spent all of it fixing the tires, however, I now have a third tire that's leaking air. I'm gonna get it fixed tuesday morning.
So yeah, that was a fucking experience, alright. Everyone who's seen the car and where I did it has told me that I am the fucking luckiest man on the planet.