SPAM Subject Line of the Day

“Watch your thing getting bigger day by day!”

Obviously the sender is not talking about my penis because, a) I do not have one and b) no one over the age of 5 refers to a penis as “thing.”

There are a lot of “things” in my life that seem to get bigger day by day. Like when you say to someone that you’ve got “things” to work through or tell a client that a lot of “things” need to happen in order for a project to get off the ground. I’ve actually got a lot of stressful “things” going on in my life right now as well as a bunch of “things” I need to get done around the house. Nope, don’t need any of those “things” growing.

I don’t know which “thing” I’d pick if I could just rub some cream on it and have it get bigger. Perhaps one of my cats. It would be pretty funny to eventually have a giant cat.

If I had a penis, though, it would totally be huge already and there is no way I’d want it getting bigger. I’m awesome.

This Is Me Afraid

I’d been craving that Guinness I had sitting in the fridge all day. As I drove home from my fun-job tonight and saw the lightning crashing around I knew just how I’d enjoy it – sitting on the porch, smoking kreteks and sipping it as my dessert.

I live in the lightning capital of North America and a good storm gives me that comforted, warm and squishy feeling of being at home. Friends from the north have often told me how BFI we all are living here because of the electricity that comes down from the sky and kills golfers – and I’m not a complete idiot. I know that shit kills people, yet, it is not one of my fears. It’s not that I’m not mindful of it or that I don’t respect it – it’s just not something that sends me into my closet cowering. I get it, though, and I would never fault anyone for their fear. Just as I hope you don’t see fault in me for mine:

I am afraid of tornadoes. Anyone with half of their synapses firing is, in my humble O, afraid of these beasts. The way that my friends from the north see me for working in my garage during a lightning storm – that’s how I see anyone that lives in a wood frame home anywhere that there is a history of tornadic activity. I know concrete block construction is not the end-all-be-all when it comes to tornado protection but it sure makes me feel a bit safer. That and strapping myself to the plumbing in my master bathroom with steel chains and then sinking down into my tub clutching onto the Book of Mormon, the Torah, the Qur’an and my copy of The Real Sex Kitten’s Handbook (perhaps I can charm my way out of death by wind). If it’s storming pretty badly and I think I hear that train a’comin’ I round up my cats, stick them in the bathroom with me and start to cry. The other night I had a dream that a tornado was chasing me. It started out as a water spout (a common sight where I grew up) and chased me all through Tampa. I am very, very afraid of tornadoes.

I am afraid of making phone calls – especially to people I do not know. I can accept phone calls from anyone in the universe. If somebody I don’t know is calling me than they obviously either need my services or need some knowledge that I can offer. Either way, I have the upper hand. I don’t actually know if that is the reason I’m so afraid of this but it seems plausible. I hate calling to make appointments, I hate calling for support and I hate calling to order pizza. I’m lucky that this hasn’t hindered my work life but I’ve always had people to make phone calls for me. I will do crazy amounts of research in hopes to avoid a call to a help desk. I will drive to a restaurant to order my carry-out in person and wait instead of calling ahead and making something quick of it. This one must be more common that it seems. I’ve only known one other person with the same fear and we always had perfectly lovely phone conversations.

I am terrified of birds. The fact that they exist is fine with me as most birds are content to just fly about and leave me alone. Pet birds, though, really frighten me. My mother had a cockatiel that she found (no joke, it was in our Pecan tree and it flew down to her and pretty much didn’t leave her side for the rest of it’s life) and I think this animal is the one that cemented this fear on my psyche. Those things bite … HARD! Birds are not friendly little things that wish to be held and petted – NO! They are the terrors of the sky! They peck, chase and nibble and I’m always sure they are going after my eyes. The problem is that birds know no fear themselves, therefore, I must fear them to protect myself. Sea Gulls will walk right up and peck at your hands to get the food from your grip. Chickens are assholes, too. I was chased by a chicken when I was a kid and I had done absolutely nothing to this animal. A Sandhill Crane tried to fight me once a few years ago and that was the scariest dealing I’ve ever had with a bird. He was taller than me and pecked me right in the face – and you know that whole crane deal from the Karate Kid? They are hovering in the air screaming when they put on that pose so it’s much more intimidating than it was on Ralph Macchio.

I fear the dentist so much that I can’t even write about it.

In an effort to save a little face and not look like such a pussy here’s a list of commonly held fears that don’t bother me: bugs, spiders, snakes, heights, public speaking, being on stage, doctors, needles, blood, boats, water, tests, vampires, zombies.

So while I may seem like a superhero when I trap that bleeding snake and take it for a sea-cruise during a lightning storm please, don’t ask me to call an exterminator. I’d only pawn that off onto my secretary.

Randoms, 012108

A few random thoughts that are floating around in my gourd this evening.

  1. Everyone on earth loves Alton Brown, right, or am I just the king of the nerds? Don’t answer that. Perhaps it’s because he’s a drama nerd (educated at the same university my brother attends – UGA) … but I think the reason is less the drama and more the nerd. He puts the same amount of research into the reasoning for seasoning that he puts into the different places one can stick a television camera (you’d just have to watch Good Eats). He’s the one that taught me to keep a pizza stone in my oven and the man I have 12 different vinegars in my pantry for. Don’t think I don’t double check his facts, though. What good follower of AB’s would I be if I wasn’t a research hound myself? He does need to get off of those pesky Apples, though.
  2. Why doesn’t Bright House’s East Pasco lineup have Monday Night RAW anywhere in HD? This is the sports entertainment viewing experience I’ve been dreaming of – but it’s not to be for me tonight. They are debuting a new set tonight and I have to watch it in 4:3. Boo.
  3. Watching Malkin v. Ovechkin in HD on Versus has proven to be pretty fun up to this point.
  4. I’m a hater. I always have been. I love to rant and I think being critical and negative is much more fun (not to mention, usually more entertaining) than being completely in love with everything the world has to offer. Of course, either of the aforementioned over-simplifications are better than hearing how “eh” and “OK” everything is. With all of that said, the Creative Loafing cover story for the Jan 16 – Jan 22 issue seemed to be an exercise in how much prime-time hate two people could pack into one story. The title “The Week In Craptastic Television,” with it’s huge gold font and smirking photo of TVs favorite germaphobe really did it’s job in piquing my interest. That cover was the best part of the story. Creative Loafing is my favorite local newsprint rag, so I’m really always expecting something funnier than this piece – especially when the inspiration is how much network TV sucks lately! So much to work with. That cover sure is pretty, though. Props to whoever did that!

Brain, cleared.

I Know a Thing Or Two About a Thing or Two

I am (oh, so modestly) a jack of all trades – or as it was called in old-school geek code – a geek of all trades. There are a few subjects where I can offer knowledge that should at least (to turn a phrase into something to turn a stomach) be taken under advisement as to whether they should be taken under advisement. As I sit here watching the Packers-Giants game I’m reminded that I know a thing or two about how things go in a sports venue.

  • Friends – if you’re sitting anywhere near a microphone or a guy with a camera and you care whether or not people know you are an idiot, don’t act like an idiot. Don’t yell stupid things, don’t do stupid things. All of us in TV-land are going to know you soon and we’re not going to know about all of that money that you gave to charity and we’re not going to see you perform brain surgery. We’re just going to know that at the beginning of every, single play you scream in the most dead-waking, shrill voice. “AAHHH!” “AAAAAAAHHHH!” “AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” Someone is going to know it was you and they are going to have recorded the game and they are going to make fun of you.
  • If it’s -2.8F outside, you have a pretty good body and you can stand to wear a little, yellow bikini top – YOU WILL BE ON TV. You will probably, also, if I know camera-dudes (and I know a few), be on the video boards in the stadium and (as happens in my imagination) people will buy you beer. Sweet, sweet beer.
  • If it’s -2.8F outside and, for some reason, you are out in the elements at an NFL game at which you cannot help but look like it’s -2.8F outside even though those around you look perfectly comfortable – YOU WILL BE ON TV. The director doesn’t care that you’re cold. He doesn’t care that your heart is on the verge of ceasing to beat. He is actually in love with the fact that your cheeks are as red as the Giants socks and that there are mucus-snow flakes coming out of our nose.
  • If you’re the one playing the sport … uh, well … you are on TV. Be careful how long you hold on to your teammates rear-end.

If you didn’t know this stuff, you’ve obviously never worked in a sports venue.

If you didn’t know this stuff (or, in the case of the hot girls in bikini tops, DID know this stuff) – you were on TV. For my entertainment. I hope you can live with that.

Just so you’re aware – I know that you are not daft and you all know these things even without the experience of working for a sports team. You just forget in the heat of the moment, right? That, or you’re way too cold to care.

(Side note: if you are an NFL Official and it’s cold outside so you’ve all decided to wear your long pants, there will be purists who whine about it. Yeah, it’s silly, but they will. They are dorks.)

(012208) Clarification: I know a man who happens to be a knicker-wearing football official – and he’s not a fan of the long pants or my insinuation. Jason Dixon is a very funny, talented human being and is not a dork. He is a geek, though, and that is not at all a bad thing. Sorry for the terrible misunderstanding! Everyone else, though … still dorks.

FOCUS!: A Rant About People Who Want to Hurt My Evo

I recently got my beloved daily driver back from the body shop. Fortunately for my frequent passengers (I like to refer to you as “navigators” as the world is my rally) you’re already used to my parking decisions – because this experience certainly did not render me any less neurotic about where I leave my car. Good thing you’re already used to the walk the store from my parking space being longer than the drive was.

The damage to my car didn’t occur while parked, though. Due, in no small part, I’m sure, to my very protective parking procedures my precious has never possessed a careless shopping cart scratch or a door ding on her Tarmac Black skin. She did, though, receive slight minivan burn when I happened in the way of some guys U-Turn (me = right-of-way, him = blind, perhaps?). I’ve never had to deal with a car insurance company other than signing up and paying the bills – now that I have I certainly don’t recommend the experience. Since the other gentleman was at fault and was cited at the scene and the whole bit it was suggested by my insurance company that I make a claim against his insurance. Since his insurance company wasn’t really there to represent me – the person who had never paid them any money – they weren’t happy and smiley when dealing with me. Recorded statements, adjusters out of town, lack of communication – a whole lot of non-fun was had by yours truly. I have my car back, though, and now it’s time to get protective again.

So, today, I’ve already been cut-off twice. Twice on the same road – but by two different cars with the same name. More on that later.

When dealing with the friendly Florida Highway patrolman on the side of Bruce B Downs that day I said something that, as of today, I’m sure must be wrong. I was angry – sure – but I was calm, not screaming, doing my best not to cause any more of scene. This representative of Florida’s Finest noticed this and I told him, “It’s not like this guy is happy this happened. Nobody wants to get into an accident.”

They do, though, at least today. They want to be slammed into at highway speeds by a black Evolution. I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS! In fact – I’m confused, dismayed and generally ticked off to the point of over-italicizing! What happened to defensive driving? I’m not talking about driving slowly and allowing 20 car lengths – I’m talking about driving as if you don’t want to be turned into a vehicular pancake! Why not wait to enter traffic until there is enough space between cars that no one has to slam on their brakes from 55mph to avoid your rear bumper? Do you really want to take the chance and hope that I’m paying attention and not sending an email on my Blackberry while changing my radio station, putting on eyeliner and lighting a cigar? What if I wasn’t super paranoid about keeping my car beautiful and wanted to slam into you to prove some sort of point? Why not show some love for your own car and your own precious time – after all, that whole FHP, insurance, body shop experience was not fun! On top of that, I now know from experience that YOU would be the one getting cited and YOU would be the one having your insurance rates go up. I don’t drive defensively ‘cause I’m a pussy or because I don’t know what my car is capable of, I pay attention because I care about myself, my time, avoiding hassles and, oh yes, I care about my Evo. Not everyone else is paying as much attention as I am.

Perhaps the name of the car you pick to drive implies something about you? Those two cars that cut me off both had the name “FOCUS” in silver emblems across the back. Good thing I do. Maybe their drivers should, too.

 

Mayor Dangleschlong

Alright, friends. That’s it! Not only is it time for a new state song but it’s also time for a new state shape joke. We get it, kids, Florida, for some odd reason, reminds you of male genitalia. Perhaps it’s that we are ALSO a one-eyed monster (yes, I’m talking about Lake Okeechobee). Perhaps, even, its because the state seems to be spewing the Keys much in the way one would pump out baby seeds – but I gotta be honest here – I don’t see it. Sure, it’s hanging down – long and strong like all young boys hope to be some day – but I’m thinking they don’t hope to have a panhandle. Or several bays. Or be home to a few endangered species.

I watch Stephen Colbert’s show and like a whole lot of other hip and cool folks I think he’s extremely funny – with or without a writing staff. Tonight he made a joke (a joke I found amusing) about Mitt Romney winning Michigan last night not because of dad’s political history there and his being a home-state boy, but because his name is Mitt and the state is shaped like a mitten. Trust me – it was funny with graphics. He then offered his suggestion for Rudy Giuliani’s campaign in Florida … and the joke involved some phallic allusions.

Growing up I saw the shape of the state of few different ways and that wasn’t one of them. Now, you might be tempted to say, “Denise, you are talking about being a child. Of course you wouldn’t have thought those sort of things then!” Let me, quickly, clear up any misconceptions. I would have. I’m naturally profane. I’m one of those whose mind is always in the gutter and if a phrase can be turned into a joke that’s sexual in nature – by God, it’s my duty to do so. I’ve been this way since I was a young child. In fact, I think I was way worse then. So if I agreed that Florida looked like a giant cock, I’d be the first to pipe up in agreement. I, instead, saw two distinct things. The first was always (yes, this is intricate, but please remember: the mind of a child!) the head of an animal leaning down to graze. A giant, sweet eye glaring blankly like the eye of a cow and a tongue made of islands. Florida was the face of the United States while it was bowing down for a long drink of the Atlantic Ocean. The other thing I saw was a fish. Not quite as imaginative but also (c’mon!) pretty obvious. Panahandle is kind of fin-ish or tail-ish or whatever, eh? Kinda like a big Grouper or something.

I can’t be the only one that saw those things! Other people must have the same great (and somewhat twisted) visions of our glorious state!

I do appreciate, though, that I live in a state that’s has a cool enough geography to have jokes made about it’s shape – am I right? We all know that the easiest states to draw are the hardest to find something to do in.

Right, North Dakota?

At least South Dakota has that little dick thing hanging off the bottom – geez.

Egg Salad, Yummy Yummy: My Sad Attempt At Blogging About Crohn’s

I don’t know why I’ve always instinctively stayed away from those pre-made sandwiches in convenience stores. They look fresh, they have a date on them, the store is clean – but I still stayed away, no matter how hungry I was.

I don’t eat much, as is. I’m a small meal (I believe you people call it a “snack”) eater. There are a few reasons I’m like this – chief among them that I have Crohn’s disease and my particular brand of this ailment happens to affect my stomach a well as large intestine.

WHEW! I typed it – and I’m only kinda-sorta worried about who I’ll gross out! There is just something about the word “intestine.”

It’s not the most common variety but it’s also not entirely rare. A lot of people must have digestive diseases – I mean, c’mon, there are enough commercials on television for IBS medication! I can’t eat normal amounts of food without pain. For me, there is not much that’s enjoyable about eating. I’m a terrible date because going out to a restaurant is weird. While I’m used to being in pain after I eat, other people aren’t used to seeing someone writhing in their booth after their meal of a breadcrumb.

Back to the sandwiches: So, I was on my way down to Fort Lauderdale to watch Lightning strike Panthers (a hobby of mine) – it was about 6pm and I hadn’t eaten yet that day. Not a bite – unless pills count and really don’t think they do – although, it would certainly be nice if they did because I take a lot of those. The convenience store in Sarasota that I ended up in was super clean. They had a barista on staff waiting to make me a brevé latte and I wouldn’t even have to talk to her – I’d just have to punch in my drink of choice on a touch screen ordering system. I don’t even know why I looked at that case full of sandwiches in their little plastic box homes. Perhaps it’s because my favorite (and the least irritating) thing to eat is bread and since having something between two slices of bread gets some nutrients of some sort into me I tend to eat a lot of (very small) sandwiches. Like, if Subway made a 3” I’d eat every meal there. There was roast beef (nope, I’m a vegetarian), tuna (nope, I’m a vegetarian), turkey (nope, causes vampirism) and egg salad. Egg salad – I could eat that,” I might have thought but don’t really recall. It said the hens were cage free and I am a lacto-ovo vegetarian – hmmph. So I gave it a try.

I am now obsessed with egg salad sandwiches. I can’t really explain it but I really fell in love with the stuff. Perhaps it’s that it can be enjoyed in very small amounts – half sandwiches, on a cracker or on a fork. I have pre-made egg salad in the refrigerator, I have all the ingredients I need to make more should I run out and whenever I’m asked what I want to eat I say answer with a decisive “egg salad sandwich.” If you know me you know I hate making this decision when there are other people involved. Why should the girl who doesn’t eat pick where people who ENJOY food get to eat? Now I know – now I have an answer.

RaceTrac on Fruitville Rd in Sarasota.

Weekend Round-Up, 011307

This week was spent doing things I don’t do every day. Being a bridesmaid and the planning that comes with that, still driving a car that’s not my own while mine is being repaired and making one of my many trips down south to watch my guys play hockey. There were a few surprises along the way that immediately come to mind when I think about what’s worth mentioning. Most of these were discovered in SoFla:

We’ve all been there – if it was not in appreciation of the massive array of menu items it was probably for the cheesecake. We’ve got one in Tampa but, seeing as how I do most of my drinking at home in front of the game (that, and the fact that I never think “HERE BE BEER!” when I’m in this place – it’s the weird MUZAK), I’d never really looked at their beer selection. Well, friends, I’m here to tell you (drumroll) … it sucks – overall – BUT, they do have my favorite beer: Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. That automatically elevates them to the status of my second favorite national chain restaurant. Yes, it only takes beer. I have a digestive disease – I’m not an eater.

Sure – it’s an outlet mall – but does one have to be living in poverty to enjoy discount prices? NO, I say, NO! Wow – I sound like a real champion for humanity, don’t I? Anyway, I was in South Florida this past weekend to watch my Lightning WIN and on every trip down I seem to spend my pregame warm up at this mall. This time it was the entire day and I realized that merchandise in outlet malls in South Florida is MUCH more high-end than what’s available in most places. Truth – we don’t really have much outlet shopping in Tampa. That and perhaps this shout-out is to make up for the mean things about this place I, no doubt, have to say in a yet unwritten blog post – but, I cannot tell a lie – the best discount shoe shopping in Florida is, in my humble O, at this mall. I even got some new, sweet hockey skates for cheap. All of that and they have a Cheesecake Factory which has my favorite beer!

I’ve been hearing about this damn movie for months – especially from those who know me closely. Well, I finally saw it (at Sawgrass, of all frikkin’ places) and I was blown. Beautiful movie. I thought, half way through the flick, I wouldn’t suggest it to friends who were having fertility issues or were looking to adopt. I thought this while thinking about my own sad fertility state and then I realized that I was loving every second of the film. Good piece for the ladies out there – especially those of us who were kinda weird, uber-intense, smart ass, tomboyish musicians who made some mistakes growing up. Perhaps, also, those who weren’t – or I suppose it wouldn’t be as popular.

Weekly advice: Don’t be afraid to use the definite article (the) extraneously as a comedic grammar element in storytelling. Ex: “Denise love the grammar. She’s such a word whore or, “I loves me the grammar.” I avoided this urge for years but have two friends who use it and it’s terribly adorable. Don’t overdo it, though.

That’s it this week – feel like I’ve done a brazillion things worth linking to or mentioning but I’m feeling their presence in posts to come, so, until then … XoXoXo …

Sugar We’re Goin’ Down Swingin’

I’m currently playing in the coolest fantasy sports league that’s ever existed.  Or at least the idea is the coolest ever and while I’m sure we’re not the first to play it this way, we’re going to be the best.  We’re only half way through our first season and this fun league has really made me look more closely at what we can do to really fine tune our sport watching – and fantasy sport playing – expertise.  Any amateur can see a player develop over the years into a points leader!  HA!  I’ve met four year olds that can accurately predict how many points Vinny Lecavalier will have in a game after two minutes of play.  Playing based on points in the plus column is yesterday’s game.  Today’s game – and the game of the future – is playing fantasy NHL for a stat that players are trying to avoid – PIM!

Now – the way we’re playing it is pretty laid back.  We didn’t put any money in and there are only ten teams.  Loading up on goons was the way to go with this draft.  I’ve been one lucky mo-fo to have gone with the guy who’s turned out to be the PIM leader so far this season – Daniel Carcillo.  He’s head and shoulders above the rest of the league with an outstanding 172 PIM.  Of course, now he’s on the IR and I’m stuck with my second highest PIM scorer being Zack Stortini.  So far he’s knocked around his opponents to the tune of an impressive 111 PIM but, like I said, there are only ten teams so, while nobody beats my Danny C, a team with two guys like Zack can load up.

The truth is, I don’t take this league as seriously as I would if it was a pay league.  I didn’t even draft myself and sometimes (fantasy hockey Gods, have mercy on my soul!) I forget to set my line up.  I know, that’s my own fault – but bragging rights only go so far and a little moolah would certainly turn me into a better GM for my team.  Not that I was ever play fantasy sports with REAL money on the line.  I’m talking about goods and services, of course.  Or maybe a trophy.  I just like to call it money to make me seem cool.

There are a few small things (besides money, which I would never do, OK!  Geez.) that I feel we – and others that may decide to give this type of play a try – could implement to make this league a little more fun for those who want to take it more seriously. 

  • 12-14 Man Roster.

Right now we’re playing with ten.  It’s not just the goons who get PIM and we’re all learning who the chronic offenders are when it comes to minor penalties.  Yeah, having that one guy who gets 25 in a game is great but he usually doesn’t get the ice time.  I think looking at it from this angle is fun, too, because it’s so strange.

OR 

  • 12 Team League

 … another way to make it a little more intense and spread around the minutes. 

  • Goaltenders

As of now we’re playing with no goalies on the teams.  I think throwing in this in as a mandatory spot to fill would just add to the fun.  Also, talk about bragging rights if you had Rick DiPietro.  I know this one is silly – but I like a little silly fun.  Playing in a PIM only fantasy hockey league is pretty silly, too!  I acknowledge, though, that this is completely unnecessary.

Anyway, yes – I am a crazy fool for actually taking this seriously – but it’s turned out to be pretty fun to watch.  It really gets you looking at the game in a new way and what’s ever bad about expanding ones horizons?

And you should see us – as well as the looks we get – at sports bars clapping whenever one of our guys commits an offense!

The idea to do this was put forth and is being overseen by our benevolent Commissioner Clark and, this season, is being played by me and a bunch of my really cool coworkers.

We Don’t Need No Water

I pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall the cigar shop is in around noon and the first thing I noticed was that a minivan had pulled into the fire lane directly in front of the door. This really pissed me off for a few reasons and, I’ll be honest, the first was not a reason involving fire trucks. It had more to do with the driver’s sense of entitlement. There was no disabled hang tag displayed and he didn’t have one of those license plates with the little wheelchair guy pressed into it – so I was pretty sure he was just lazy. I was completely sure when I saw him hop out of his car and bounce into the shop. Dude was probably in his mid 50’s but you could tell he didn’t care what people thought about his age. His grey, wiry curls were sprouting unkempt from his horseshoe and the few hairs he was saving on top of his head were just sticking up every which way. I drove on and parked the behemoth of a vehicle I’m driving while my precious Evo is being repaired in a proper parking spot.

I think the true reason I was so surprised and angered is because I haven’t seen anyone commit this act in such a long time. I suppose that’s actually a bright spot.

By the time I made it to the front door Mister Fire Lane was done with his purchase. I opened the door and was a little surprised that he didn’t say something like “after you.” I don’t expect people to hold open doors for me but the truth is that it usually happens, especially with older gentlemen. This was no gentleman, though and, also, no fashion expert. While holding the door open and with the guy directly in front of me the first thing I noticed was the he was wearing boat shoes with no socks, sweatpants and a polo. These sweatpants were the bad kind, too. They had the elastic at the bottom – and he was utilizing those stretchy bands to hold the bottom of his pants about 3 inches above his ankles.

I noticed his shoes first because I was looking down trying to avoid eye contact. This sounds terrible but I was actually kind of miffed about the fire lane thing and I didn’t want to convey that with a disapproving glare.

As he walked out the door he pointed at my feet and said something to me. It took me a few seconds to process it but as he climbed into his car cackling like a wild man I realized what he said.

“You have a hole in your shoe.”

I was wearing my favorite Crocs – the Mary Jane variety – and I did, indeed, have a hole in my shoe. Several, in fact and on both feet.

He thought this was the funniest thing he had ever said. He probably says it every chance he gets.

Now I’ll never forget this guy – but he’ll never know how pissed I was about the fire lane.