Commuting Bliss-
or (How I learned to love my Hondo Accordo)
*Signifies brilliant footnote below
My car is a 2000 Hondo Accordo. 4 Doors. Rough grey leather seats. Sun Roof. Crusty ass floor mats, and a stunning passenger-side quarter panel dent that I refuse to repair. He* is a supple road goat who guides me in my daily battle verse an imbecilic squadron of California** roadtards. Like a pudding snake, Hondo weaves in and out of traffic with such prowess that big sunglass wearing trucker hat hoes can't help but to lick there chops. Sometimes I drive so hard and cool that I require a pre-turn palm licking to ensure maximum hand to steering wheel grip. This move may seem excessive to some, but for me, it is a daily necessity in my constant street fight. Before yous' guys begin calling me sally pants, please understand that my commute averages an hour each way. Now some of you back in the Chi that commute into the City from Aurora, Joliet or some other boon factory might be faced with a comparable jog. Sure, you too are in the car for an hour or more but unlike me, distance is covered. My ass goes 14.7 fucking miles in one hour. GAY. See below for a detailed google map of my route.
A stupid 14.7 miles in one hour. Mr. McMathmaster can you compute my average daily speed? Yep, 14.7 miles and hour! Zinger.
Enough of this rant, I didn't spit genius to winy wine like a toasted whore. I posted this to celebrate the fact that after 2 years in this town I have achieved maximum in-car tranquility. Now some of yous' guys might be thinking that the cause of my new found in-car happiness might be a blast of doob***, a upgraded car, or a new labradoodle puppy riding shotgun. Nope sister, my bliss is a direct effect of my new surpluss of in-car entertainment, or what I've shortened to the rock hard name of car-tainment.
I don't even make cell phone calls while commuting anymore. I SIMPLY DON'T HAVE THE TIME. Why? because of the barrage of sick options on my god damn dashboard. Count em'. One (1) direct IPOD hookup and One (1) brand new Sirius Sportster Replay Receiver, complete with REMOTE FUCKING CONTROL. FUCK YEAH!
Between my award winning**** collection of music on my POD and the panty-removing amount of entertainment available on Sirius, I now pray for red lights and Korean motorists. "What is this bullshit, no traffic! Come on!" I turn my car in the morning and are now fully prepared for what ever the 134, the 101, Coldwater, or Little Santa Monica throw my way. Bring it on cockslider, bring it on.
Being a Stern fan, I not only get to catch him in the morning and on the afternoon replays but I can pause his live feed in order to call me moms. When I suddenly slam my clamshell celly closed, I get to return to my program or song and then rewind, fast-forward or pause, AGAIN. So much more than talk too. They have a Jam station devoted to stuff I jammed out to while baked and chubby in high school and college. Soul-Town spins monster motor city deep cuts. Left of Center plays music for people who like ferrets and finger blasting. How about some Sinatra and Prima, hit up #113 on the unit and consider you passenger’s panties removed. Every damn thing imaginable.
All this wonderment does not come without consequence. Now I am dealing with intense fallout from the car-tainment bomb that was dropped on my dash. My Wifey keeps jawing that I don't call her no more. Countless voice mails saying, "hey Bro, where the hell you've been, we going to get a Beef in Anaheim." Do you need a lift Jimmy? Well don't expect to be talking the whole time, Daddy's got a date with technology. Why deal with the outside world when I'm straight as a bean and happy as a clam? I just don't care anymore.
My tires are very low, but I just don't have the discipline to get out of my car and fill them up. The windshield wiper fluid light has been on for a month. This fact is ignored dispite the fact that my windshield is spackled with water spots-the world is barely visible. My personal relationships, health, and saftey are slowly disintegrating. Things may become dangerous soon. Car-tainment is coming in between me and my loved ones. Car-tainment is strong. Car-tainment loves me more than my wife and parents. Car-tainment has pretty hair and soft lips and delicious titties and s..........
Pictures of the setup tomorrow.
footnotes
*My Hondo is a man. When referring to modes of transport, Dudes are always using feminine pronouns. Boo to you. My car is a dude and he is rocksteady. I am quite positive my car was forged in Cleveland and has gotten into several knife fights.
**I use the term California lightly. My Midwest instinct says that majority of the drivers on the road in CA are indeed from Billings, Montana and/or Playa del China.
***Occasional hitters will be smoked, of course.
****jeffmauro.com Ipod Content Award 2004.