I turned in the second draft of my book on Friday. It was hard to let go of it, because there are still things I could do to make it better. But, as someone I trust advised, “You’ve got to leave something for the editor to do.”
In other words, there will be many opportunities for additional tweaks and revisions. The feedback has been positive enough so far, that I decided to just pull the trigger. I promised it in June, so it’s getting down to the final days, anyhow.
I feel reasonably happy with it, and will now be entering the phase where I start yelling at my cell phone, “Ring, bitch!” It’s the cycle of life.
My promise to you guys: I’m not going to mention the book again, until I have some news. I’m sick of talking about it, and stressing over the thing. I’m sure you feel the same. So, I’ll suffer in silence, and will let you know when something happens, good or bad.
I’m drinking some kind obscure German beer, made from a recipe that dates to 1036, or somesuch. A guy I know told me it’s the best beer in the world. My reaction to his claim: bullshit. It’s certainly not bad, but the best in the world? My big riffled ass.
Earlier today we went to a Wegmans beer and food pairing event. My favorites were Weyerbacher Hops Infusion, Yuengling Porter, some sort of crumbly and pungent cheese, and blueberry pie. They had a lot of other stuff, too. But those were the items I really enjoyed.
They were serving a peach beer, made by Dogfish Head. But I didn’t like it. It tasted like wine, and I believe it’s the only Dogfish Head product that’s disappointed me. I’m not even sure it could be classified as a beer. Whatever.
Yesterday I downloaded the latest albums by Jesse Malin, and Teenage Fanclub. Both are hitting the right buttons, so far. The Teenage Fanclub is a little subdued, but the songs are strong. And Jesse Malin hasn’t released a bad record. He’s one helluva great songwriter.
As promised, I removed the PayPal link for the new Evil Twin shirt this morning. Thanks to everyone who bought one! I’ll be placing my order with the T-Shirt Lady later today, or tomorrow morning. And will turn your orders around ASAP. I’ll probably have the shirts within two weeks.
Now I’m drinking a Saranac Irish Stout. It’s OK, but not great. I love Saranac’s Pale Ale and IPA, but I only like the Stout. It certainly is dark, though. Holy crap nodules. It’s like drinking a glass of 2 a.m.
And believe it or not, this might be the first update I’ve ever written while slightly drunk…
Toney just left to pick up a whole team of kids from a movie theater. The Secrets and some of their friends went to see Toy Story 3. For some reason it pleases me that kids their age are still interested in that franchise. They all grew up on the characters, but somehow it’s alright to continue liking them. That makes me happy.
We’re going to cook burgers on the grill later, and Toney will try (in vain) to catch-up in the drinking category. Ha! Good luck with that one. I am a seasoned professional.
I’ll leave you now with a Question about hitting cars, and cars having been hit… Have you ever run into a parked car, or had your poor, innocent parked car crashed into? Tell us about it, won’t you?
Use the comments section to tell us your stories about parked cars being bashed to pieces. Did anyone leave a note, or anything? We need to know.
And I’ll see you guys again on Monday.
Have a great rest o’ the weekend!
FIRST ON A SATURDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Jeff: If that German beer is Weihenstephan, it is in fact the best beer in the world. But only if it’s the “Original” “Premium Bavaricum” variety, and not any of the wheat varieties.
And if it was Weihenstephan “Original,” and you don’t recognize it as the best beer in the world, perhaps you got a skunked bottle. It’s a long ride on those ships from Germany to the U.S. of A.
Regarding that Dogfish peach beer, beer should be made only with water, malted barley, and hops. Nothing more. Add anything else, and it’s not beer anymore. That’s my creed, anyway. You can choose to adhere to it or not.
I bought a new car a couple of months ago and someone hit it while it was parked at Walgreen’s. I have no idea who did it. I ran into a human being one time, broke his leg. The idiot just darted into the road from the sidewalk. He was laying there with a bone sticking through this sock and all he kept saying was, “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have done that.”
As you might guess, I’m drunk on a Saturday early evening. Started at the local pub with four pints — a Yuengling Lord Chesterfield Ale, a Flying Fish Exit series (I forget which exit, but it tasted like a Belgian brew), a Stoudt’s Painted Lady (delicious), ending with the locally brewed Kenzinger. Followed up with four Strongbow ciders when I got back home to watch the Phillies on my new Big Ass TV.
A coworker in the back of my red Sunfire opened the door into a brand new and shiny Mercedes at work. He was used to the weight behind the doors of his Surburban and overestimated the incredible force required to gently ease the cardboard panels of my car open. So I parked around back. Screw the ahole with the Mercedes – he was a prick that worked next door. The big red wound was like a beauty mark – think Julia Robert’s mole….
I saw an older guy hit a parked car and he drove off. I stopped him and asked if he realized he hit the car. He said “what car?’ I’m not looking forward to getting old(er).
I hit a foot high concrete curb and put a nice gouge in my current car. It was dark and rainy and I swear it moved in front of me. Or waved me ahead or some damn thing. No, I wasn’t drinking.
Adherence to Reinheitsgebot does make for some tasty beer, but I’ve gotta make allowances for things like Kreik Lambic. Those crazy Belgian Monks can flat-out brew.
Not to say that Germans can’t brew…. 🙂
Last week, someone sideswiped my new rear bumper that was just replaced after some idiot rear-ended me in January, and they drove off and didn’t tell anyone.
Been hit while stopped on 75 in Atlanta. Been taken out by an suv while stopped in Chicago. Hit a few cars knocked over a motorcycle once. I’m on a southwest flight currently that has one of the Tuskegee airmen on board. As cargo. Bill Holloway I believe.
I once hit a parked Dog Law Enforcement Truck. The tie rod ends on my car had gone to shit and as I was trying to maneuver a U-Turn in a parking lot, not a good idea in hindsight. They guy that drove the truck saw me and came over and said they had just gotten out of meeting about what to do if they were in an accident on the job. Talk about a coincidence.
t-storm,
It’s William H. Holloman. He was 85. He died on Friday. Heart attack. Are you headed to St. Louis?
I ran into my father-in-law’s parked Renault Scenic. It was brand new and all shiny. I crumpled his wing in my old VW Polo which remained rusty, but unscathed!
The thought of pairing sweet foods with beer makes me shudder.
Its got to be, got to be, savoury.
Just landed now training it towards south city
I once drove up over the curb, through a yard and into the side of a brick carport at ramming speed. Not only did I propel bricks into the side of the Vistacruiser wagon in the carport I also launched a few into the kitchen. Large dollar damages.
Ran over a collie on the highway while driving a ’74 VW bug. All four wheels were off the ground at one point. Had a guy in an old wagon back up over my hood clear to my windshield in that same bug. that was friggin scary. Not two weeks later I had a woman driving a Town car pull out in front of me and stop. Again I was driving the Bug. I dodnt even have time to hit the brakes. Her car didnt even move but I bounced around inside the VW like a turd in a churn. I sold that Bug not long after that.
You could also be disappointed with a Dogfish 120. I nearly had a stroke drinking one of those.
Peach beer is just plain nasty. For the love of god, why?
This doesn’t really fit in the conversation, but – I was watching a thunder storm in Texas one time and I saw a bolt of lightning hit my neighbor’s dog, killing it instantly. I was glad. It was a barky motherfucker. I don’t know why the stupid bastard was standing in the middle of a pasture in the pouring rain.
I’ve been hit while sitting in a parking lot. Lady looked right at me in my mirror (the dumbo ears chevy truck mirrors) and started backing away, she almost hit another car that was driving down the parking lot lane, which afforded me the oppertunity to tap on her window… “I didn’t hit you!” “Uhm, I didn’t even ask you about anything yet…”
Been hit while waiting at a red light… “But I thought you where going! Uhm, hello lady, its a red light, there are two cars ahead of me… just how far do you think I am going to go?”
I worked in one place with a tiny parking lot, with one of those 8×8 post mounted barriers lining the parking lot. Being in a truck, that did not afford much room for people actually having to drive down what was the lane or get out of the spot on the opposite side, so I gently nudged the parking barrier everyday to push it back… then one day —crack— Oops.
I have had a door opened into me while I was sitting in my car… “Oh sorry, its nothing” they said… “I’ll be the judge of that, not you” I says…
I was driving behind some guy in a fullsize van years ago approach a lane shift set up with the reflective wooden construction signs… He plowed straight into it taking out about 20 of them before veering off and coming to a stop. He was alright, I think he fell asleep, it was around 1 or 2 am.
I’ve seen too many door stikes. A bunch of parking lot dings. Last year, I got to hear the sounds of a car plowing into a parked car 50 yards from my front door. The parked car ended up sitting in the adjoining lawn turned 90º with the trunk in the rear window, and the hitter taking the spot the parked car was in with its front end taking on an artistic flair. Surprisingly, no injuries.
My dad bought a new car every 5 yrs and every time, we received the “hand me down” car. So, the Evil Twin was driving a 93 Olds and I was driving a 98 Buick. His car was parked at his office parking lot and some chick hydroplaned and hopped the curb, took out 2 cars before coming to a stop by totaling the Oldsmobile. We had just found out I was pregnant with the 2nd child, so we had to go car shopping. First time we had a car payment in 15 years. We found an awesome van, but it seems to have a bullseye on the rear end. We’ve been hit and run in a parking lot, keyed and all manner of things. Now, the Evil Twin is driving the last car my dad bought (18 miles right off the lot), 2003 Buick. He’s only been hit in the parking lot of his office once in a minor parking mishap. Now, he parks on the far end of the lot or around back. LOL.
I’ve hit a parked car before…without knowing it. I was driving an 88 Suburban, and didn’t realize that I had left some rubber from my bumper guard on the side of a lady’s jetta. Luckily the plainclothes cop saw it and informed me right before he arrested my dumb 17 year old ass for a hit skip. Judge thought it was stupid and gave me 90 days suspended license with privileges for basically any driving I wanted to do. A real cake sentence. I’ve also been rear ended in my pickup once. Destroyed the front of the Aveo that hit me, scratched up my hitch–which I was none too pleased about. Got me a new hitch AND some cash. Can’t complain about it.
I just got my hands on some Sam Adams Coastal Wheat. Good stuff.
Oh yeah, I hit a parked car twice. The first time was post-coitus and so the blood hadn’t quite returned to my head yet. So I happened not to notice the car parked behind me in the driveway. In broad daylight. I only hit it going 0.5 miles an hour, but the embarrassment factor was fairly huge. Sobered me up right quick too. After that, there was a mandatory half hour waiting period between sex and driving.
The second time some asshat parked illegally behind me at a bank, just about blocking me in. Oh, I gave the Three Point Turn the old college try, but invariably the wheel hanging on the back of my truck made firm contact with the door of his assclown car. That’s why I said, “just about blocking me in”. Oopsie. Guess that’s why they tell you not to park there. And yeah, I drove away smiling, what of it? And you know, I still don’t feel bad about it.
Hit someone’s car in a college parking lot years and years ago. Her (it was a women’s college, so I assume the car belonged to a woman) window was open, so I wrote a note with my info and put it in her car, but I never heard anything back. Her car didn’t look any better than mine, so whoever it was probably did what I would’ve done – just shrugged and said “whatever…”
Ben and I went and saw Toy Story 3 last night and I’m 24 and he’s 23, he also had on a Trey Anastasio shirt giving the middle finger…But the movie was highly adorable and I would love to own it right this second and watch it over and over again. It was a little darker then the first two I will admit…that fricking monkey! OMG, he was making little kids cry in the theatre.
I am hitting your car right now
I hit your mom’s car last night.
Believe it or not, this is the first update I’ve read while totally sober.
Okay, I owned a Suzuki Samurai. Great gas mileage for all the drving around I was doing.
One summer evening, about 1 a.m., I’m awake and looking out the bedroom window. This small car comes down the street and slowy drifts to the left. Directly into my parked Samurai (just washed and waxed that afternoon). The back end gets smushed by our full sized van and the front by the drifting car. Then, the car driver wakes up and backs up and drives away.
Meanwhile, I grab some clothes and wake up my two brothers and we head out to the street and start looking for this car. I found it on another street. We call the police and then I ring their doorbell.
“Huh?” “You hit my car and I’ve called the police.” “Oh, I was going to go back in the morning and leave a note.” Yeah, right!! The cops wrote up a report but did not cite her for ‘Hit and Run’ because she came back to the accident. ONLY because WE tracked her down!
Turned 18 (drinking age in MD in 1979) and graduated from HS the same week. A friend (driving) and I left a party at a high rate of speed, went off the road into a WET front yard, did a 360 and smashed into a parked Thunderbird, which we find out later had all four tires come off the rims we hit so hard. Somehow we drove the five or so miles to my house, where I got dropped off. Oh, and the 5th time I called my friend, who had just wrecked his 6 month old camaro (figures) an asshole, he slams on the brakes and sucker punches me. That black eye was my only injury. He broke his wrist, and the cops found him a few hours later sleeping in his running car in his parents driveway. Did I mention we were hammered? Good times!
I hit your mom in a parked car last night.
I’ve ever been the victim of a hit and run ordeal, but I noticed that someone just recently put a nice foot long key scratch down the side of my new silver Santa Fe. I have a preeeetty good feeling its the psychotic lady I work with because she’s always parked next to me in the lot. That bitch is nuts. If Jeff ever asks about psycho co workers, I’m gonna be leaving a reallllly long post.
Lee Harvey / hot fuzz / The Queezy M –
simply excellent trifecta. this is why I read the WVSR comment section….
I hit a parked car once while I was backing out of a small driveway on a small street while attempting to manuever a huge rented moving truck. Funny thing was that the car I hit was so old and so beat up that it was impossible to discern the damage done.
Ever since, I have only damaged shiny new unparked cars.
My Grandfather hit a parked car while driving a work truck. The work truck was fine, nary a scratch. The parked car was totaled. Unfortunately the parked car belonged to my Grandfather. I guess that was a bad day.
Our fire house got called to the local psych ward for a fire alarm a few years ago. While the crew went inside to check it out, the driver tried to turn the truck around in the car park. He was having some difficulty so this guy comes over and asks if he needs a hand. He says yes and the guy guides him back…. Into a tree…. He was a patient. We found it pretty funny.
My RAV4 has a nice long key mark along it’s side too. Most likely because of the Eagles sticker and license plate holder that I insist on sporting in the heart of Steeler Nation.
Once the manager at a Sherwin Williams, whom I had earlier reported to her home office for denying me the 20% discount their sign advertised (she had forgotten to take the old sign down, which = too fucking bad in my book), was so upset after her upbraiding that she went out in the parking lot and forklifted her car….as in put the forklift through the side of the car. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?
1983, Salvation Army parking lot, with the ink on my license barely dry. In my haste to get into the store after hearing that the family of a recently-deceased old man had donated the contents of his closet — at the time, my drug of choice was cashmere cardigans of the Mr. Rogers variety — I swung the family Cutlass Cruiser Wagon a little too wide as I was pulling into the parking space and rammed the side of a beat up Chevy van. I was horrified, jammed it into reverse, and fled the scene. Parked a block away and wondered whether the owner would notice the 18″ dent in the side of his rust bucket. Yea, verily, the guilt abides.
I remember sometime in 85 or so, being packed into a car with a bunch of other teenagers. The driver, a girl whose driving talents were, um, scary, was backing out of a parking space in a mall parking lot, cut the front wheels to the right way too soon, and slammed the left front fender into the brandy-new monte carlo SS that was parked next to us.
Her front bumper hooked on the wheel opening of the right rear quarter panel of the shiny new car, and she tore that quarter panel fuckin’ good.
THEN, in a panic, she puts her car back in drive, then park, then drive, then park, etc, and commences in trying to disengage her car, succeeding only in really, really fucking up the victim, raming, ripping, etc.
When the deed was over, and unbelievably, no witnesses, I remember all of us snot nose teens standing there, looking at the battered monte carlo, silent, and the girl says, “do you think they’ll notice?
Holy crap. The poor car looked like it’d taken out the wall in turn three, for chrissakes.
Ever the fine, law abiding, honest and caring teenagers, we did “the right thing”.
Put a note under the windshield that said nothing but “sorry!” And tore ass outta there.
At first I thought you might have had Dogfishes Aprihops confused as peach, but it appears they do have some sort of peach offering for the summer. Their web site isn’t running real smooth. Their Aprihop is made with Apricots somehow. I’ve not tried it as I tend to steer clear of “frooty” beer.
Speaking of steering I backed into a friends car while it was parked in another friends driveway.
Being a fortunate one, most people run into me but my first experience was at the tender age of 16. Just came home from filling the 68 Ford Custom my parents let me drive and paked the car on the curb. As I was walking up to the driveway to the house, I heard the screeching sound of a bus and then a loud bang. I dare not look, but I did. The bus had run square into the back of my car just slightly folding the backend downward. I ran in the house and cried to my dad, someone just ran into the back of the car. My dad goes out to look and then all hell broke loose as his cuss switch turned on. The kids still sitting on the bus looked on in amazement as my dad cussed the poor bus driver up one side and down the other. Surely they had never heard this kind of language before. It was as if he were speaking in Russian and they were trying to ascertain every syllable in an attempt to decipher its meaning. I drove the car in dismal shame for another 6 months until the insurance company finally payed to total the car because the bus bent the frame. Thankfully it wasn’t a Ford Pinto or I would have had an even better story to tell you!
I still feel bad when I remember this…When I was 17 (?) I had to wake up one Saturday morning and drive to a local high school to take the PSAT or the SAT. At the time, I thought that splitting a bottle of Bacardi 151 with my friends was the epitome of a high old time on a Friday night and that was exactly what I had done the previous evening.
I rushed through the test exhausted with my head pounding and beat everyone out to the parking lot. I jumped into my parents 1971 Plymouth Fury. I started to back out and cut the wheel way too sharply. I heard a crunch as my right front bumper impaled the front quarter panel of the car on my right. “Holeeey Shit!” I thought as I panicked, stepped on the GAS and proceeded to rip an 8 inch wide gash about four feet long down the side of this car. I glanced around, saw no one, straightened myself out and peeled out of there.
Ohmygodohmygod-all I could think of was what my parents were going to do to me when they saw what I had done to my Dad’s precious Fury. I pulled over into a gas station down the road to assess the damage and there was not one single scratch on the car or the bumper.
Embarrassingly enough it wasn’t until that very moment, awash with relief, that I even thought about the person who’s car I performed surgery on with my ’tank’.
OOOOO, I just remembered a story from when I was in highschool…I didn’t have a car yet at the time so I was driving around my mom’s Plymouth sport van. One day, I was driving around and I drove past a friend’s house where a bunch of guy friends were standing outside admiring one of their dirt bikes. So I stopped and rolled down the window to say Hi, and the one with the dirt bike decided it would be funny to come up behind me on the bike and pretend he was going to run into me. My radio was blaring, and I started to back up to go talk to them, not realizing how close this kid actually was, and ran right over the front tire of his bike and practically crushing it. He’s screaming at me through the back window, so I pulled forward and sat there while this major asshole proceeded to scream at me that I was a ‘dumb bitch’ and ‘why the fuck wasn’t I looking where I was going’ I screamed back at him, “Why the FUCK were you behind me?! Did you not see my reverse lights?!’ And in a fit of fury, panic and humiliation (it was a nice summer day, so there were all kinds of curious onlookers coming out of bushes and what not) I drove off. The first thing I was thinking that I needed to get my parents since I was a little 16 or 17 year old, but I think I ended up driving around for about a half hour thinking of how this was going to go when I got back to school the next day…
The kids dad called my parents and my parents offered to pay half the damage since we were both apparently at fault, but like I said, this kid was a major asshole and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The dad proceeded to lecture my parents and tell them that the bike was vintage and it was going to cost close to $900 bucks to fix the front tire. The kid actually worked at a bike shop and ‘claimed’ that this was even with discounted parts. So my parents reluctantly paid the fucker for his ‘vintage’ bike tire, and the kid and his friends proceeded to harrass me my entire junior year about it and pretty much ruined the year for me. This was almost 8 years ago, and to this day, I’m positive these guys still hate me, because that’s how cool they are. Ha! That’s a small town for ya.
The van was fine by the way. It’s still kickin’.
I had just turned 21 and went to meet up with a few people after work at a local bar. Got there around 10:30 and closed the joint down. We were walking out to the parking lot talking about getting either omelets or Taco Bell when someone started yelling about my car. Still in it’s spot but the trunk was smashed all the way up to the back seat. It looked like an accordion! The bar tender called the sheriff and all my friends split. The deputy thought it was hilarious. He did make one good point. You’re lucky it happened, at least I’m driving you home and not to jail. The car was black and never looked right again because the paint didn’t quite match.
Got to work today to find out my girlfriend (and co-worker) was in the South Side in the Burgh Saturday night. When she got back to her car, her driver’s side mirror was dangling by a thread. I then logged on the the Surf as I hadn’t been near a computer all weekend to find out the QOD. Funny.
As for me…. Some years back I had a Toyota Celica, white with turquoise and purple lightening streaks on the sides. I loved that fucking car. On my way to work one morning I am sitting in a line of traffic at a light behind a huge dump truck. My foot slipped off the clutch and shot forward landing the front end of my super bad Celica under the bumper of this 3 ton truck. The light changed and he took off….never had a clue I hit him. I got to work and found a foot long scratch on the hood. Mother F’er.
Brittney, I think you have some well deserved revenge to dish out…
Yeah, I have always thought the same…I mean, these guys were ruthless…they were also fairly popular and all the parties I was once always invited too I was no longer welcome too, even after many aplogies and the repair money. To the best of my knowledge, I don’t even think they got the bike repaired. I think he just pocketed the money. Vintage my ass…
Valve stems are easily messed with. 😉
One of my goals in life, once I attain too much money to care, is to buy a fleet of quasi-beat-up early 1970’s land-yachts (I’m partial to the Olds Custom Cruiser wagon, or fleetwood, ) insure myself for millions against personal injury lawsuits, and go usrping my right-of-way. Especially, fire-lanes in strip malls…..that yellow-painted diagonal lined area right outside the store that says ‘fire lane?” If you are parked there for more than 20 seconds, and hear an engine revving, and then get plowed into at about 35 MPH such that your 4 door is now a 2 door, don’t forget to say hello……