The New Motorcycle Gangs

Before we get to our post today, I'd like to apologize (again), for not being around much.

After I recovered from that brutal surgery (which now seems like a bad dream so far away), I started getting into some new projects so that ya'll wouldn't visit this page & be subjected to seeing my weird, freaky shit, but still haven't been feeling so up to par recovering psychologically. Obviously, posting to this blog requires me to keep up with my regular pizazz, which is something I've been drained of as of lately and it's been a slow road but things are getting back to normal, as will my posting here once more, so don't lose hope in me.

I also tend to a ridiculously large vegetable garden and it's the time of year to spend a lot of time with that as well. Nevertheless, I am making blogging more frequently and keeping up with all of you my first priority from here on out.

As for the post here today, I'm not sure it falls so much under the "humorous" category, but it is something I would like to bring to attention.

You notice more & more that you're seeing classic cars all over the place & many of them are extremely souped up?

The inspiration for this post hit me after one drove by me last week, gorgeous classic car, new shiny red paint job, complete with the Porky's logo n' all. It was so cool yet so amusing at the same time.

Well, after a trip at the end of last summer up to Essex County to visit The Clambox (yes, that's a seafood restaurant), I noticed something very interesting: Older men too afraid to get on motorcycles are now forming classic car gangs. I realized this at the moment about 15-20 of them pulled into the parking lot circling around & kicking up dust all over the place.

Never mind the lack of actual dust here. It was the best I could do.

And being a car enthusiast, I found this to be a pretty intriguing topic to bring to people's attention.
I've also learned something in all this, and it's that I'm way more into these older customized American cars from the 30's, 40's & 50's rather than ones from the 60's & 70's.

So, today we're going to take a look at some bad ass lil beauties.

Take note that I refuse to even take a second glance at what American cars are today, but what they were decades ago is a whole different story! Better than anything made & existing today.


Let's start with what may be my personal favorite.

 The Mercury Lead Sled 1940's-1950's

Now I'm not sure about 1951 standards, but having a car like this today is bound to get you laid.

If you think that's a beauty, let's take a look at some more Mercury Lead Sleds

Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back. And I'm taking this with me.

By the light of the silvery.....Holy crap, I may have just shit my pants.

The 1939 Ford Coupe

It's way cool, but I don't find it so hot in that it screams "Pass the Grey Poupon through the window" in a way.

The 1937 Ford 2-Dr Sedan

Gangsta muthafucka!

The 1934 Ford Coupe

That's balls!

The 1948 Chevy Aerosedan

The paint job is a lil "Rainbow Randolph" but the car is awesome! It's got that body & shape I love. Perhaps if it had some chasing lights, it would be more of a clown car.

The 1940 Ford Panel Truck

Clearly, besides being a milk man classic, it's a surf classic & how can I not love that?!

I am literally in my GLORY right now as I write this post.

The 1952 Chevy Convertible

Take that, grease lightning! You just couldn't be that f-ing cool.

The 1942 Ford F1

Not much words here. Just form & classic beauty.

1934 Buick Sedan

I'll be damned. They once actually made an awesome fn car.

I'm getting really scared I'll never stop here.

How about  The 1941 Cadillac 62 

Clean up aisle 62!

I'm such a dude sometimes.

I bet it ROARS. I bet they all roar. "We all float down here!"

Seriously, I hope you've all enjoyed this post as much as my pants have.

Pardon my lewd conduct. I freaking LOVE these things!

I will now be doing some blog rounds & I promise you'll be seeing more of me this week.
Let me know if I forgot any seriously bad ass cars from this era that I can update the post with.

They Can Drive Us Insane

Sometimes they nitpick, and demand, and disapprove, and they sometimes want to make us pull our hair right out....

But we'll miss that when they're gone.

So, no matter how small or unimportant you think it may be....

There's nothing like a mother. Take this weekend to show her that, if you're fortunate enough to still have her around.

And send the BIGGEST hugs, love, and respects ever to those who do no longer.

I don't know how much longer we'll have dear ol' Betty White lil nana, but if it were less than a year, I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't put the smile of being loved & appreciated on her face that she'll have today when that delivery truck pulls up & rings the doorbell with this arrangement which is actually almost three times bigger than her adorable lil head. 

And you don't need to say it with flowers. You can say it with anything.

Just think about what this day means, and what a mom truly is, and make it genuine.

Regardless of the times they may make us want to stab ourselves in the face with a soldering iron, who do we call out for in pain & despair?, who do we feel inclined to call up with that remarkable, good, or even unsettling news? Who do most of us always want to turn to for that ultimate comfort or sage advice?

Who do you have to thank that you're here, and who had the strength & decency to raise you in a way that you didn't end up a serial killer?
(My apologies to the uni bomber & all those fuck faces alike. I don't know, maybe their moms were cool. Maybe Uncle Carl molested them in the closet. Wherever shit went wrong...)

Mine drives me fucking NUTS!!

(In a way that I'm surprised that I don't have a Valium gum ball machine)

But boy, am I gonna miss that when it's gone.

That's a huge understatement. I don't know what I'll do or how I'll carry on when she's not around to drive me nuts along with all the good moms do.

So, I took her for that fancy Chinese dinner, had them bring a cake to the table for her (Her b-day is right around Mother's Day), and I'm going to get her that insane list of things she wants, right down to that fucking magnolia tree, so she can always see it flower & be reminded of my unconditional love & appreciation.

This may be a humor blog, but I'm a human as well as a freak, and this is a subject/message that hits close to home & is significant to me.

Moms drive us nuts BECAUSE they want to be that #1 person in our lives, and important enough to be that person, as we were in theirs from day 1 of our very existence.

Mother's Day is really something special.

It's our time to give back, for all those diapers, tantrums, and times they stayed by our side & took care of us when we were sick & hurting. For all those fits of teen angst & worrisome nights we brought them. For all they may have had to work all those years to keep food on our tables & clothes on our backs.

And if you don't have the time &/or the resources, MAKE the time, and don't worry about the resources.

They just want to hear, know, and feel how much we love & are grateful for them. They've worked so hard loving & raising us to deserve that.

So, if she's still with you, show your mom (and your mother figures) how much she means.

So to all the moms out there...

P.S My deepest apologies if I haven't been doing much blog catching up this week. Things have been insane, hectic, and busy, but I'll be getting around to rounds this weekend. XoXo. Until then, enjoy the lovely weather, and showering mom with love.

You got every other day of the year to hide in the car/basement, and scream (maybe even cry) & pull your hair out.

This is the day you suck it up & throw that all out the window.

A Fire Breathing Fetish of Sickly Proportions

Wow, it feels weird (but good) to be back here writing up a post!
I am recovering well & slowly moving back into the swing of things, and it's just been too damn long.

Maybe I'll share the second half of the horror story sometime in the near future, but I have been enjoying those times I don't have to focus so much on what the hell I went through back there, so...

Today I want to talk to you about weird fetishes which are of a non-sexual nature, and
A self- observation I haven't been able to deny all my life.

Wrong shit entirely!
I'm not sure what's she expected to do with those, but it's almost frightening to think about.
"Slap me with a waffle & call me Charlie Sheen."

I'm THAT sicko..... No, not the one above, but who doesn't enjoy waffles & storm troopers now?

(Just keep them miles away from my bedroom or my lady parts.)

• The one that eats jars of vinegar peppers (Pepperoncini) because I'm addicted to the burn.
• The one who eats their pizza STRAIGHT out of the oven because it just doesn't taste good enough if it doesn't leave a welt on the roof of my mouth.
• The one who eats that insane, spicy yellow mustard at Chinese restaurants (It's boss on chicken wings).
• The one who used to stand outside Taco Bell as a kid & have "fire sauce contests" with my friends. (Pussies. I remember them dancing in circles, panting with their eyes bulging out, nearly in tears.)
• And the one who can finish an entire one of those long, hot sausages from the Italian import store that even make grown men cry & choke to death from a single bite.

I don't suggest you ever try any of those at home, unless you're a straight up fire breathing dragon.

Or in this case, fire breathing corporate nerd.
Sometimes you gotta work with what you can.

Now, some people can handle this shit well. Some, on the other hand, not so well at all.

But then there are the sickos who seek out this sensation/experience.

No, dickhead, me.  Creepy fucking owl trying to steal my thunder.

I once bit into a slice of pizza so hot, not only did it leave a welt, but the skin on the roof of my mouth actually peeled off. =0. While speaking of creepy, the creepiest part about this was that I felt satisfied for days.

I had the battle wounds to prove it, as I still continued to burn my mouth in any way I could the rest of that week.

Is this a sign of lacking something emotionally, physically?

My guess is probably just a disturbed person being disturbed, though it would be cool if it had any kind of theory behind it.

No, I'm not going to go out & snort Wasabi like Steve-O, but it's a rush & a thrill for some people.

My mother & her father actually both suffer from the same insane fetish.

These folks also eat orange peels & the like, so maybe it's irrelevant.

Though, I still think my 2nd degree pizza burn was a first for the history books.

Deadly pizza, you hurt me so good. <3

If my bowl of soup isn't at nearly boiling point & doesn't burn with intense heat all the way down to the point of involuntary twitching, I simply have no interest in it.

I have yet to throw a bowl of soup at the wall, but I'll make sure to be wearing a wife beater with spaghetti stains on it when that day comes. I think that's kind of a requirement for throwing soup at the wall.

I once threw a plethora of cold cuts (and some chicken cutlets) behind the couch when I was a kid, but I also don't think that's quite relevant here.

My bologna's first name was destruction.

(Floppy food is funny).

"I gots me attire for my first date with a lady friend."

It's like that chick at the prom wearing the long & proper gown when you know quite well you need the slut standing outside in the mini skirt for any kind of real thrill.

She'll probably burn your ass, but she'll be worth it & you'll never forget her.

Esp. for the following weeks due to the effects of the burning, but that's what you get for messing around with crabs.

Spicy food is a dirty whore!

(Bologna is just wrong in every way.)

Just keep Habanero out of the family chili. Nobody else will appreciate it & think you're an asshole.

I'm like, no good at photoshopping.
Shit, I don't even have photo shop. I lied to you.
(I did put habanero in the family chili, though.)

Some people like being lied to. It's their fetish.

As much as it's against my morale, I'd lie to you if you wanted.

I just won't spank you with waffles. Wtf do you think this is? 

Nor do I think I'd pierce my tongue, as much as I love torturing my mouth.

You should really see the way I can throw back things like deadly, straight Whiskey & Tequila, though.

That's a good look for cousin Cletus.
Let's do this, people!!
We can play beer pong with Jim Bob's eyeballs after the explosion.

Irresistably appealing.

You've missed me (and my sanity), admit it.