Propeller Skies

Recently, I reserved a premium car at Enterprise for a trip back to the old state. I made this mistake once before and received a shitty Ford Explorer. I did not count it against Enterprise, as the kind gentleman at the service counter mentioned the Passat I would have had was in the shop for electrical problems. Unfortunately, this was not a one off event and Enterprise issued me a steaming pile of goat dung in the form of a Dodge Durango.

performance (or lack thereof)

Conveniently, the roughly 10,000 pound Durango came with Chrysler’s weakest and most pathetic six cylinder engine. Because my travel itinerary included driving across the Appalachians and stopping in two cities with substantial hills, this was a complete disaster. Exacerbating the issue was the slushbox’s refusal to down shift as the truck lost speed going up inclines.

Steering feel was atrocious. I have been on sailboats that were more responsive.

Complementing the feeling free steering was a pillowy suspension, which made the SUV feel like it was about to tip over when provoked by the slightest change in direction.

Stopping power provided by the brakes was acceptable for a vehicle of this size, however advance planning was required.

positive characteristics

Lest the Prizzo Skeezy be accused of lacking fairness and balance, the Dodge Durango did exhibit the following good traits:

• Impossible to get a speeding ticket;
• Hauls a fuckton of crap; and
• Fun to drive across creeks.

inevitable conclusion

The Dodge Durango is not recommended. Even with the optional Hemi, this SUV would still be a dog, as simply adding more power would not address the atrocious handling. However, the Durango was useful on this specific trip for hauling several people around northwestern Pennsylvania and dragging loads of stuff at the same time. I still would have preferred the premium car I reserved.

Alert readers have probably figured out by now that I love India Pale Ales (IPA) like Michael Vick loves dog fighting. Recurring readers have also probably figured out I like Southern Tier Brewing products. Therefore, alert and recurring Prizzo Skeezy readers would be right to conclude I should like Southern Tier’s IPA.

Southern Tier’s IPA is bigger than The Beatles. The scent reminds me of caramel and the taste is large fruity hops. Setting it all off is a subtle grapefruit flavor. Generally, I prefer the citrus notes in an IPA to kick my ass and take my name like my favorite dominatrix. However, the balance displayed in the Southern Tier IPA trumps that predilection.

Southern Tier India Pale Ale is smoove as hell and, obviously, highly recommended.

The following post is a positive review. Our regularly scheduled anger will resume tomorrow. Or whenever I feel like posting again.

Despite the goofy name, Coffee AM is awesome. I have been ordering my beans from them for over a year now and am completely satisfied. Unlike Starbucks, Coffee AM does not over roast their beans. Coffee AM’s beans are as flavorful as Aurora’s, but they can be ordered anytime from the internet and Coffee AM accepts credit cards.

As mentioned in a prior anti-Comcast rant, I gave Comcast the boot and upgraded to Sprint. For the same price I was paying the cocksuckers at Comcast, I now get broadband that works everywhere in metro Atlanta and major cities nationwide. Work is the operative word - I did have to reset the computer once to take care of a dodgy connection, but that was a huge improvement over repeatedly going without internet for hours at a time. The only drawback of EV-DO rev A is speeds are noticeably slower than with the cable modem. However, as mentioned in the previous post, streaming video does work.

Alert Propeller Skies readers will recall I fucking hate Comcast. And judging by the comments, a few other folks do too. As I was bending over and getting cornholed by Big Brother, at the last minute as usual, Comcast crapped out on me*. Not wanting to file an extension because of balky internet service, I called Comcast customer disservice. After three hours on hold, they told me nothing was wrong with their infrastructure, so I scheduled a service call.

In the meantime, I borrowed some internet from a clueless neighbor and finished my goddamn taxes over an unencrypted connection. I then looked around the world wide web for alternate broadband services and found a few that were promising. I settled on Sprint and bought a card.** Even though plenty of internet denizens complained about Sprint’s coverage and poor customer service, their EV-DO rev A technology was far faster than Cingular’s bootleg EDGE*** service.

After easily installing my Pantech card and the Sprint software by my damn self (no douchebag technician or ridiculous eight hour window necessary), I confirmed the service worked and was indeed fast enough to stream video. I then called Comcast customer torture for the last time to cancel the service call and my (lack of) broadband service. The Comcast customer irritation representative cheerfully informed me there was no need to cancel the service call because the network problem was fixed and they canceled it automatically. Motherfuckers.

notes:

* Yes, I know this happened six months ago. Start paying me a subscription fee to read this and then feel free to bitch about the slow updates.
** Full review in the future. When I fucking feel like getting around to it.
*** More on this in the future too. Steve Jobs, what the fuck were you thinking?

Before The Republican was too fucking cool to hang around with us, The Photographer and I joined her at Utopia for tapas and drinks. For Prizzo Skeezy readers not located in Atlanta, tapas is Spanish for rip off. Since I do not like dropping thirty dollars and leaving hungry, I did not sample the food. Unlike the Studio Grille, Utopia had ambiance out the motherfucking trapdoor. There was so much high design ambiance, that by the time I left I was intimate with my feminine side, not just in touch with it.

the drinks

Nothing infuriates me more than douchebag establishments that produce Martini lists. There is no such thing as a fucking Martini list, because a Martini is gin, vermouth, and a twist. Period. Everything else falls under the rubric of cocktail. Unfortunately, marketing fucktards are convinced that the magic word Martini sells substantially more overpriced sickly sweet concoctions than the more pedestrian word cocktail. Goddamn wankers. In protest, I drank beer, which tasted perfectly fine. My companions enjoyed their cocktails.

Despite the dip shit Martini list and lack of real food, I had a good time at Utopia. For people who like techno music, Utopia is recommended.

[This review is rather pointless, since Smoove took so fucking long to write it that the goddamn place went out of business in the meantime. But we be running short of content up in this bitch, so here it is anyway - Ed.]

After shooting some flicks, The Republican, The Beaver, and I rolled into the Studio Grille. We ordered some drinks, which were nice and strong, and glanced at the menu. Maryland farmer, the Studio Grille is overpriced. A 10 dollar hamburger - what the fuck? This is Atlanta, not London. In addition to affordability, the Studio Grille also lacked substantial ambiance. We finished our drinks and moseyed down the street to Slice.

In need of an excuse to get my buzz on, I decided to compare three different India Pale Ales (IPA) to Loose Cannon, my reference IPA. Besides the crunktastic flavor, my favorite thing about Loose Cannon is that every sip reminds me of Elizabeth, the smokin’ hot blond Taco Mac bartender who served it to me the first time. For the attention span impaired, Buckeye Brewing’s Hippie IPA wins the shoot out.

Dogfish Head

From Delaware* comes Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA. This weak pathetic example of an IPA lacks bite. Although it features some pine flavor, the beer lacks the trademark bitterness of an IPA. I find the Dogfish Head IPA far too subtle and supremely disappointing. This beer reminds me of Titan IPA from Great Divide - full of promise, but ultimately lacking follow through. Folks on Beer Advocate seem to love it, so give it a taste in the interest of scientific inquiry.

Sierra Nevada

I like Sierra Nevada’s American Pale Ale. However, they completely fucked up their IPA. The brew starts out appropriately bitter, but then an overwhelming tea flavor takes over. What the fuck? I think the geniuses in Chico misunderstood the India part of IPA. Sierra Nevada India Pale Ale sucks more dick than Nickleback. I took the remaining five bottles to a party and unloaded them on unsuspecting suckers.

Buckeye Brewing

Participate. I have no idea what the hell that means. Mission accomplished. See my previous review of Buckeye Brewing IPA.

notes:

*Motto: Bigger than Rhode Island, bitches!

As background for my Swedish readers, The Colonnade is an Atlanta institution located on Cheshire Bridge Road*. The restaurant serves food indigenous to the American south. This can include such disgusting dishes as collard greens and okra, however a limited number of southern foods are fit for human consumption.

the first colonnade trip

Fuck. The Colonnade is not in the GPS, therefore I can’t go. Never mind, a cracka needs to learn to spell is all. I turn right after 300 yards into a fucking monsoon**. Eventually, I manage to meet The Republican, The Photographer, Mizzo, and Deezy for dinner at The Colonnade. I order and consume some type of fried fish. What kind is irrelevant***, after getting battered and fried it all tastes the same anyway. I choose macaroni and cheese as a side, which is stellar. My other side was sweet potato fries. They are most excellent.

colonnade trip number two

On my second trip to The Colonnade, I get fucking nuts and request some other type of fried fish. Again, the fish and sides are mighty tasty.

the point

The Colonnade is recommended. However, the institution is full of geezers. Also, keep in mind The Colonnade is stuck in 1952 and does NOT accept credit cards. Apparently they had this strange thing called cash back then and that is the only way to pay.

notes:

* Which alert readers will recognize as THE Atlanta porn destination.
** Relevant because Atlantans can NOT drive in the rain.
*** Except for catfish, which are not ingurgitated by me, because they eat shit.

Every now and again, the denizens of the Acurazine TL board argue over whether or not the optional navigation system is worth the $2,000 Honda charges for it. Recurring Propeller Skies readers can probably guess my whip has no rip-off navigation system.

Tom Tom recently released Navigator 6, so I picked up Navigator 5 on sale. I already had a Palm Tungsten T5, so I saved 190,000 pennies and got a better system than Honda provides.

the test

Over the last eight months, I have dragged Navigator 5 all over metro Atlanta (including OTP) and to the Southern Tier. I have used it in the car and on foot.

initial impressions

Overall, I really like the system, as it is easy to use and the maps are generally very up to date. Using the GPS, I have discovered several ninja routes for avoiding traffic. However, user discretion is advised, because the software does not know the location of economically challenged areas. On foot, the GPS leaves something to be desired - it often loses track of the direction of travel and is confused when sidewalks are located more than 10 feet from the curb. However, Navigator 5 is especially useful when wandering around shooting flicks - I never have any trouble getting back to my car or figuring out where I am in unfamiliar territory.

the good

• Wicked fast at recalculating routes - handy when the doughnut eating fools have closed roads for no apparent reason*;
• Portable; and
• The three dimensional map display and voice directions are supremely easy to follow.

the bad

• Does not understand more than one occupant needs to be in the car to use high occupancy vehicle exits;
• Takes for fucking ever to warm up and obtain a GPS signal; and
• Often won’t find addresses that clearly exist and have existed for some time.

why buy?

• Very easy to use
• Powerful - features include multiple stops on an itenerary, traffic, and a huge points of interest database; and
• Interfaces extremely well with Palm products.

notes:

* Every time a major event occurs at the Georgia Dome or World Congress Center, the fucktard pigs close a bunch of streets in downtown and Ghettoberry Hood so the tourists can enjoy sitting in legendary Atlanta traffic. Cocksuckers.