I thought about putting this up on my sports brog, but then I thought fuck it, this isn’t really something for BS,W. When I first saw these two storm out of the section, I said “hehe, they’re going to go break up,” not really thinking much of it. But then minutes later, I turned around and noticed the two of them hanging out on the railing, appearing to be having some intense conversation, based on the tepid body language. “Holy shit, I think they are breaking up!”
Instead of watching Brave after Brave helplessly flail against Tim Lincecum, I found myself voyeuristically watching this young couple appearing to be headed down Splitsville. My usher friend and I sadistically watched with enjoyment as with each pleading arm wave from him, and the dismissive hand through the hair from her, the negotiation appeared to be going nowhere but downhill.
And then came this moment of truth, that I managed to capture on camera, completely coincidentally – the wiping of the tears.
Continue reading “Owned at the ballpark”
The demise of Borders bookstores legitimately makes me sad. Considering I remember when I saw one for the first time at Springfield Mall when I was still just a young child, seeing their inevitable demise now is kind of like feeling the loss of something very familiar and a symbol of childhood.
Borders was always my preferred merchant of literature, over Barnes and Noble, and to some degree, even Amazon.com. Mostly because of the coupons that Borders sent out on a very frequent bonus, and it enabled me to purchase my choice of books at a discount, at mostly my own convenience. As opposed to Barnes and Noble’s bullshit “membership,” which cost actual money, in order to save 10% off purchases through the finite time frame of 365 days. I don’t like having time limits attached to my hobbies, especially ones that cost money.
Continue reading “Closing out Borders appropriately”
There’s something to be said about the culture of tagging in the world, but sometimes it’s funny to just see something kind of out of left field to get the mind wondering. Here in Atlanta, the popular tags are a head in a ski-mask, Pac-Man ghosts smiling broadly, the word “DOSE,” and a bunch of indecipherable marks that pockmark bridges, billboards, walls, and other public or private property that are illegally being desecrated. That being said, I can give some genuine appreciation to PULL MY FINGER, because there’s really no explanation needed. Most everyone knows what the joke is, and it’s kind of refreshing to see something that requires no explanation being used as vandalism over the esoteric, kind of bullshit tags that are scattered around the rest of the city. I mean, I like the Pac-Man ghosts as much as the next nerd does, but I have no fucking idea what the point of it is.
At least with pull my finger, there’s a modicum of sense being made, since it relates to fecal matter, and so many here in this fair city are full of shit, so there’s a connection there.
There’s just something so gratifyingly amusing by seeing a police car getting towed away. There’s no body damage, and the wheels are all intact, and in all likelihood, it’s probably a squad car with some sort of debilitating engine issue, but I like to pretend that this cop car belonged to an overzealous, power abusive Officer Farva who overstepped even his law enforcement boundaries, and the car was towed away by a tow-truck driver that simply doesn’t give a fuck. Or, someone villainous type, richer and more powerful than the police decided that they didn’t like a police car too close to wherever, and decided to have it relocated.
While I’m on the subject of license plates, with the exception posted previously, I tend to blur out plates, out of an unnecessary courtesy. It just seems like the right thing to do if I’m going to post the rest of these anonymous vehicles on the interwebs. That being said, I would like to state that the car in the proceeding image is 100% unedited. No Gaussian blur, no mosaic, no smudge tool applied. Yet, can anyone make out the license plate at all?
Which begs me to ask, how are these blackened-out license plate covers legal? The point of a plate is to provide identification to who might be driving the car, and to have a means of identification in the event that some accountability needs to be applied to a party. But these covers make plate legibility almost impossible beyond being right behind it. I guess I don’t have to guess too hard to imagine what effect they have versus camera-equipped traffic lights, either.
Does anything on a vehicle scream “I am a shady motherfucker who intends to push the boundaries of what’s legal inside of a vehicle” than these black-out license plate covers? Think about it. With these covers, the driver could drive like an idiot; speed, weave, aggro, HOV violate, all of the above, while witnessing motorists are hindered to possibly identify/report these perpetrators. These drivers could get into an accident, and speed off, knowing that victim(s)/witness(es) would be hindered to take a plate from an escaping vehicle. And so forth.
Continue reading “How are these legal?”
Ironically, being a 6.5-gen Civic DX with it’s 1.5 liters of Honda muscle rated at a warp-speed 2 horsepower, I’m sure this car certainly has a little bit of difficulty getting the fuck out of pretty much anywhere. But amusing to see nonetheless.
This picture sums up Myrtle Beach pretty sufficiently, for the crude, unabashed Redneck Riviera it pretty much is. To clarify one thing, the destroyed underwear was fortunately not mine, but I won’t specify whose. The rest of the weekend was horrendous but delicious foods, lazy rivers ruined by fucking idiots, drinking, humidity that made it difficult to differentiate between the air outside and the air around my balls, more drinking, Butterfly, persons of questionable age, jackhammers, and Four Loko. But for as many beaches I’ve been to this summer, it was nice to actually have gone into the ocean and wash about the waves for a little bit for a change.