Last month, I wrote about a gas station running out of gas for no apparent reason. This month, gas stations all across Atlanta are out of gas because of Hurricane Katrina. According to the Atlanta Journal Constitution , which is always right, Atlanta will completely run out of gas in ten days. So, Head Fucktard In Charge, how about stealing us some of that Iraqi oil we fought a war over?
The other day, I read several long winded letters on the topic of fixing GM. However, only three words are required: stop making crap.
A few months ago, in a post entitled Fuck. The. Viper. I complained that Samuel Hubinette would win the Formula D series title in a totally lame Mopar piece of shit. My psychic prediction, like most psychic predictions, turned out to be wrong. Rhys Millen went on to win the drifting title. This outcome is slightly better than Hubinette winning the title, but my all time favorite drifter Alex Pfieffer or my second favorite driver Taka Aono winning the title would have been totally sweet.
[This post will offend some people. To those people: go fuck yourselves in the corn hole with a large diameter fire hose - Ed.]
First, a big Propeller Skies shout out to Devon at Pull My Finger for accidentally reminding me I was going to post about women drivers by posting about a classy lady in a red Jetta.
In our never ending quest to solve the traffic woes of this fucked up joint called metro Atlanta, we here at the Prizzo Skeezy have brought forth the concept of a Great Wall Of Gwinnett. Unfortunately, it has been brought to our attention that this solution is probably unconstitutional, because it would impede interstate trade.
My last few weeks on the cluster fuck of a parking lot named Georgia 400, I did an informal little survey with absolutely no scientific validity. Roughly 80 percent of unsafe lane changes were committed by women. Therefore, I propose we ban women from driving. Myriad safety benefits from this action include a significant reduction in the accident rate and the total number of accidents. Additionally, MARTA ridership will skyrocket, thus increasing the financial stability of the authority and benefitting the environment by improving metro Atlanta air quality. Also, by cutting travel demand in half, congestion will be solved without raising taxes.
[To those alert readers who are about to point out our obvious lack of facts, we respond the lack of actual facts with regard to weapons of mass destruction did not stop The Head Fucktard In Charge from wasting thousands of American lives in a pointless grudge war, so why should it stop us from advocating a policy that would clearly increase utility for everyone - Ed.]
Last Saturday, a friend was in town visiting. In her honor, recurring Propeller Skies characters The Dog and The Rabbit hosted a party at their place. Sandra arrived late, as usual, and brought a smokin’ hot friend (SHF) with her. However, SHF asked for water when she was offered a drink; setting a new record for least time elapsed before a deal breaker. I thought the party started off a little slow, but a bottle of wine and a few high performance Margaritas improved the situation immensely. Thanks to The Beaver for driving.
I dropped into Octane this afternoon for a tasty espresso drink and to ogle the smokin’ hot red headed steam extraction engineer. While ordering, I was distracted from my primary main objective by the art hung on the coffee house walls. I found the abstract design vaugely familier and noted the composition alluded to street art. My attention was brought back to the counter when the steam extraction engineer announced my zesty beverage was ready.
I grabbed my cup and wandered over to get a close up view of the art. Several elements in the piece were abstractions of somewhat familiar letter forms. I also noticed the sophisticated layering of elements in the composition. Finally, I glanced at the plaque with the artist’s name and realized why I recognized the style - Hense had produced the artwork.
After viewing all the pieces, I was impressed with how Hense succeeds at producing a feeling of urban alienation on paper. I also liked how the general aura of forgotten spaces where his writing is often found came through. I highly recommend visiting Octane and checking out his work.
First, however, complete the following homework assignment to become familiar with his graffiti. Start with this classic tag, Hense on DeKalb Avenue, move on to one of my personal favorites: Hense flick in Inman Park, detour through the hood and enjoy a photograph of Hense at ghetto car wash, and finally appreciate another Hense image at ghetto car wash.
Friday night I stopped by the worst micro brewery in the country for a brewery tour and tasting. For the clueless, by brewery tour and tasting I mean free craptastic beer. Unfortunately, pretty much every student at Georgia Tech had the same bright idea.
After standing in line for a while, I finally got inside and had the privilege of being packed in with a bunch of Tech students tighter than a gerbil in a certain famous actor’s asshole. Now if these had been Georgia students, life would have been grand. For those unfamiliar with public institutions of higher learning in Georgia, all the smokin’ hotties attend the not very academically rigorous University of Georgia, located in Athens, while Georgia Tech, an engineering school with actual admissions standards, is conveniently located here in Atlanta.
While standing in line waiting patiently for free beer a retard who worked at the brewery kept yelling one line was for some kind of not so tasty beer and another line was for some other shitty beer. Newsflash: I am here to get wasted and I do not give a fuck. Just fill my motherfucking cup with the free beer, bitches. During my wait in line, some douchebag guido wannabe standing in front of me tried to start some shit because allegedly I stood too close to him. By this time, I was cranky and regretting ever showing up. If there had been room to swing, I would have destroyed his punk ass for thinking he was special.
I finally got some beer and headed outside. Things improved, as a smokin’ hottie showing off some sweet cleavage was standing in the parking lot. I had a great view from my vantage point on the loading dock. Later, some dumbass wandered up and asked if anyone knew the house number. Apparently the shit for brains cab dispatcher he was on the phone with had no idea where the brewing company was located. It irritates me to no end that these fucking foreign cab drivers do not know where a damn thing is. I cannot count on two hands the number of times I have needed to provide them with directions to my apartment complex. There ought to be a law. Finally, my night was ruined when I witnessed some pervert making out with a fat chick. Get a damn room!
While school is in session, I do not recommend this event. I might stop by again next summer to see if things are better when the Tech students are not around. More likely, I will buy a six pack of Sierra Nevada with my five dollar tasting fee and have my own goddamn tasting in air conditioned comfort.
The other day, I came across an article about mission statements. One sample mission statement, I blog to pick up chicks, stood out. Fortunately, this is not the mission statement of the Prizzo Skeezy. So far, writing Propeller Skies has been about as effective at getting me laid as driving a lime green Buick Century on Jordans with an ICE worth more than the GDP of a small country.
Last Wednesday, I ate at the Lobster Bar with some of my future co-workers. I knew it was a classy place, but when the bartender asked if I wanted olives or a twist in my Martini, I knew it was a top notch establishment.
After chilling at the bar, we were seated and ordered. As an appetizer, I had the lobster bisque, which fucking rocked. I ordered the sea bass as an entree. It was mighty tasty, but not nearly as stunning as the bisque. I highly recommend this joint, but don’t leave home without a black American Express card.
A big Propeller Skies shout out goes to Envie for the link, even though it did take them a flippin’ year to find the Envie concert reveiw. Prizzo Skeezy readers are strongly encouraged to check out thier next show, because they totally rock.