Originally intended to document my experience of DeLorean ownership, focus is often radical and strange, boring and obtuse.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Six Cracker Challenge

Martini attempting the 6 cracker challenge avec bib.

Krevin is a bad influence on me, but I just can't seem to resist his scruffy charm and his various challenges. When asked to consider the "Six Cracker Challenge" I tried to resist, but instead succumbed to Krevin's adorable scruff and abominable eating habits.

The Six Cracker Challenge is not for the weak. In fact, it's not for anybody, as it is pretty much impossible. The goal is to eat 6 salted Premium Plus crackers in 60 seconds. I thought it sounded pretty easy. I was pretty wrong.

Before I began the challenge, Krevin told of his official record - 1 minute and 7 seconds. I made a mental note that this translated to 67 seconds, then cleared my head. Concentration was the key, especially with half a dozen spectators.

"GO!" said some guy with a watch. I shoved the first cracker in my mouth and instantly knew I had failed. My mouth dried up faster than something that was already dry before the challenge began. But I pushed on, ramming two more crackers into my mouth, and declaring that this challenge was "imbothible."

Cracker Boogers anyone?I could barely chew, and the 60 seconds was almost up. With the absurdity of the struggle everyone began to laugh, including myself. The entire scene was hilarious from almost any perspective: me in baby bib, trying to simply eat some crackers.... really really fast. I choked for a second during a simultaneous mid-laugh-mid-swallow, and clogged my nose with cracker mush. I was disqualified after firing cracker snot balls out of my nose, instead of swallowing everything.

It didn't matter. I didn't have a chance. My saliva glands just couldn't handle the abuse of the Mr. Christie's Weapons of Mass Dryness. I suppose someone would have to have an overproductive saliva gland in order to get through this gruelling challenge. Either that or a throat of steel. Swallowing dry crackers, painfully, was an option, but my throat just wasn't strong enough to force them through.

Krevin became excited by all the action and decided to try and break his record. Two at a time he shoved them into his eating hole until he could shove no more. 67 seconds came and went, but Krevin was still chewing, albeit a lot slower.

Who dares take on the Six-Cracker-Challenge? Any results posted in comments become the property of DMC & ME and I may assume any and all records as my own.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Halloween Special Delivery

I know what you're thinking - ''that's Martini!'' Well... Stop it.

Work is sometimes a tedious thing that needs disruption to become exciting again. Not that work is an excitement-inducing thing, but if you're not having fun or excitement at work, you're probably going to look back at your life 60 years from now and think "why?".

Then, suddenly, while lying in a long-term care facility, you will bite it.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing. Death is neat. It's like a roller coaster. It scares the crap out of some people, and doesn't even phase some others. And regardless of how you feel about it, fun stuff comes from death in many forms, including the most bestest time of year - Hallowe'en.

But some people have too much fun with death and Halloween. Some people have an obsession with it. And if some people don't stop having Hallowe'en based packages delivered to him (or her) in the workplace, the fraidy-cats are going to have a mass freak-out.

If this person wants to avoid that kind of unwanted behaviour from "the norms" at work, he (or she) better start concealing his (or her) boxes under his (or her) desk - or at least tell the stock room guy not to deliver this gory stuff in the middle of the day. This person simply doesn't know what sort of creepy thing or severed body part is going to strike panic into the hearts of his (or her) co-workers.

On the other hand, people shouldn't be afraid of gruesome, horrific, terrifying latex Halloween props. After all, they aren't real. They're just for fun, created by some twisted mind in the hopes that some even twisteder mind out there will find enjoyment in it. And use it to scare the bejesus out of those fraidy-cats.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Car Show Swag

Despite this pic, I swear I can contribute to society in a positive way.

You (Rainypete) asked for it, you (Rainypete) got it. Car Show Swag.

The car show I recently attended with the DeLorean cost $10.00 to enter, which included admittance of both Suz and myself. In exchange for my Sir John A., we were given a goody bag full of goody bag goodness. And like a kid just arrived home from a night of Trick-or-Treating, I dumped the bag all over our table, pouring out the swag in no particular order.

The bag contained 1 wooden 33rd Annual Kinsmen Club of Brantford Car Show plaque that has the capability of being hung in many different places, all of which Suz has said "no" to. Alongside that plaque was a smaller, matching metal "dash plaque" with 3M sticky backing. There was only one place Suz would allow me to stick that plaque, and the sun doesn't..... well, you know.

In the writing utensil category, the bag contained 5 pens and 1 pencil from various companies like State Farm Insurance, Crime Stoppers and Coldwell Banker Realty. The pencil has already gone missing.

I don't use Armor All any more, after 197 people told me how it cracks rubber and vinyl instead of protecting. I've never seen it happen, but everybody who doesn't work for Armor All says it has happened to them. Despite that, I was still excited to get 2 sample size, lint-free, not-for-resale Armor All wipes. And if I happen to cut a finger while rubbing those Armor All wipes all over my dash, I could use the package of emergency bandages that came in a nifty plastic container. Oddly, or coincidentally, it reminded me of a little coffin which was approximately the right size for a severed finger.

But with safety in mind, they also included 1 pair of high impact polycarbonate plastic lenses, which were made in the most safety-conscious of countries, good ol' Taiwan.

And if that wasn't enough, I also got a sweet dog-safety colouring book, 3 mini-packs of emergency sunscreen which don't expire until August 2008, 3 magnets and 2 business cards from various companies, a Crimestoppers sticky-note pad and a State Farm Insurance keychain.

A big surprise was the totally dope beige Castrol Racing cap, with velcro adjustability, so it even fits my small head. And finally, an even bigger surprise was the 17, that's right, seventeen "Sulley" glow-in-the-dark sticker/tattoo combo packs from Kellogg's. I don't really get the relevance, but oh well.

I think somebody got tired of filling the goody bags. Too bad it wasn't the Castrol cap guy.

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Tuesday, September 26, 2006

The Bleeding Smurf

Smurfs are only 3 apples high before you pop 'em in the blender.I couldn't have hoped for a better childhood than growing up in the 1980s. With Hanna-Barbara cartoons and PSAs like "Time for Timer" molding my brain every Saturday morning and every day after school, it's a wonder I have any social skills. The 80s was a happy decade, full of puffy Pac Man stickers, Robotix, and Smurfs. And who doesn't like the Smurfs?

I'm sure this drink has other names, but "Bleeding Smurf" is probably the most appropriate. The Bleeding Smurf is a super-sweet blue and red Martini served in one of the local bars which our old neighbour used to own. Since she doesn't own the bar any longer, and since she probably didn't invent the drink, I don't feel bad about posting the secret ingredients of this super-awesome beverage.

I have reverse engineered The Bleeding Smurf for everyone's drinking enjoyment. After experimenting a few times, I believe I've perfected it. In a standard Martini glass pour:

• 1 shot Blue Curacao
• 3/4 shot dry Gin
• 3/4 shot Malibu Coconut Rum
• 5 ounces of fresh-squeezed Smurf blood. (Kidding! Only 3 ounces.)
• Fill the rest of the glass with lemonade.

Finally, slowly pour some cold Grenadine down the side of the glass until it forms a small pool of red in the bottom. For a tasty alcohol-type flavour, drink the juicy goodness from the glass slowly. For mega-sweetness, stir up the blood and have a sip.

With the pain in my feet growing more and more unbearable by the day, I sometimes need to find relief in the world of alcohol. I don't want to become an alcoholic, and I don't plan on it, but I sure do enjoy a sweet, sweet drink.

For those coming to the 'Ween bash this year, The Bleeding Smurf will be the house drink. It's a fine replacement for last year's Zombie and I doubt there will be any disappointed taste buds in the house.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Diversity At Car Show

God parted the clouds so he could get a better view.

Trying to squeeze in some summer fun a few days before fall strikes, Suz and I found ourselves cutting through a thick, misty fog on our way to the Brantford Kinsmen Club's 33rd annual Car Show and Swap Meet.

After nearly an hour's drive, we arrived just after 9 a.m. We followed a string of muscle cars onto a grassy field and parked the DeLorean between a purple Z28 that had been modified for drag-race purposes and a 1978 New Yorker, which separated us from an amazing 1960 (I believe) Corvette.

The morning was grey but we didn't have to wait long for the sun to come out. We registered the DeLorean, grabbed our goody bag full of goodies, and went back to clean the misty water from the windows. We threw a blanket down on the grass and watched more cars pull in while a dog chased a horse around an oval track.

I learned about the show through an email from members of the Ontario DeLorean Owner's Association. I waited all morning for them to show up, but by the time noon rolled around, I realized I was representing John DeLorean's dream alone.

I tried to walk around and view some of the other cars, but was in too much pain. However, I made a special effort to check out the green Bricklin that pulled in shortly after me. I was very interested in the unusual double-strut system which held the gullwing doors in place, but was never able to track down the owner to talk about the rare car. Although I still think the interior is kinda icky-pants, I find I love the wild exterior more and more each time I see one.

Throughout the day some really nice people came over and asked me questions about the DeLorean, including a couple from Scotland. They had heard about this car show last year, and made a special point of checking it out while they were visiting.

A really nice guy who wasn't much younger than me even wanted me to pose with my car while he took a photo with his really cool Samsung digital camera. At least a dozen kids walked by all declaring the D to be "that car from Back To The Future!" and just before we packed up for the day, a girl with a French accent took a few pictures and thanked me.

It was a very fun day because of all that was shining: the paint, the chrome, the sun, and the attitudes of everyone walking around. Two Martini-thumbs up for the Brantford Kinsmen Club's 33rd Annual Car Show.

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Friday, September 15, 2006

Insight Twins & Nasty Comments

No, you're not seeing double. The Insight twins are back for double-fuel-saving action.

Suz and I were up at the Home Depot shopping for blinds for our bathroom. The blinds we bought were supposed to be 24 inches, and therefore fit inside our 24" wide window. We had to return them after we discovered they didn't fit. Why? Because they weren't 24" wide. They were 24 and 1/8th inches wide. But that's another story.

When we emerged from the big orange store I had a mini-freakout. I saw our car, but it was not sitting beside the small, grassy boulevard thingy where I parked it.

"I didn't park there!" I said to Suz, pointing at the silver hybrid. "What the hell is going on? I did not park there!" Thoughts went through my head: did somebody play a prank on us and move our car? No. It's automatic. They would have needed a key. Am I losing my mind? Possibly. Wait. Maybe not.

It was at that point that I saw our Insight, parked beside the small, grassy boulevard thingy in the adjacent aisle, facing the same direction. Suz laughed. There are less than 400 Insights in Canada, and most Home Depot patrons drive massive trucks capable of carrying all sorts of building materials, making this a bizarre event.

I moved our Insight next to "VALEN" and took this picture. Suz and I started wondering aloud: Does his wife drive an Insight with the licence plate "TINE"?; Did this Insight driver park where he parked because he saw our car?; Did he think it was cool to see another Insight?; Did he look inside ours?; Or did he just park there and go inside, not even noticing?

Whatever the answer, we thought it was trés cool. We smiled all the way home, until we discovered the blinds didn't fit.


Last night I did some thinking after I received some really nasty, ignorant comments on my blog. The comments were related to some very old posts I did about the Smart Car, which were based on facts and incorporated my personal opinion.

I started to ask myself if I should continue blogging if I'm going to receive closed-minded visitors like this leaving their insults on my blog. I don't delete comments because I encourage free and open discussion. But this was not discussion. Some of the attacks were personal, and intended to insult. This is not acceptable.

If people want me to see their point of view, they should try to convince me of it using logical discussion and proof. It's obvious, by what many of them said, that they did not read my entire post. Instead, they read a few points which angered them, and inspired them to write some thoughtless comments.

Which brings up another point. Amongst the insults there are actually a few valid points made. It's hard to dig them out, however, because they're buried in opinion stated as fact, rudeness, and stupidity.

As I always say, Everybody is entitled to their opinion. But some people seem to feel threatened by my writings. Controversy is nice, as it breeds conversation. But I'm forced to impose "Blogger Only" comments as a result of this.

If you're up for it, please read the comments here, and leave your thoughts if you like.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Thank You General Motors

Struts offer super-sweet lift action.

Every 100 years the forces of good mysteriously weaken while Dracula's powers grow stronger. Similarly, every 5 years or so, the gas-charged struts on most DeLoreans weaken while gravity's power, uh, remains the same, resulting in unwanted droopiness.

The louvres over my engine wouldn't stay up any longer, after the gas struts gave up the ghost this summer. At the DeLorean 25th Anniversary show in Chicago, I purchased a new set from DeLorean Motor Center. It was a super deal, and I avoided shipping charges by bringing them over the border myself.

At home I started the strut-swapping process. I braced the louvres with some stuff I had lying around the garage.

Removing the louvre strut.I slid a flat-head screwdriver under the metal retaining clip and pried it outwards. I gave the old strut a yank and it popped off with a little effort. The louvres dropped on the one side so I speedily propped up them up with my head. This was important business as my louvres, amazingly, aren't cracked. Having un-cracked louvres is practically impossible, except on the Concours-calibre DeLoreans which are meticulously cared for and guarded with ferocity.

According to Don Steger, owner of DeLorean Motor Center in California, every DeLorean's louvres have cracked at some point, which is why a louvre brace was developed. When I told Don that mine were not cracked, he simply didn't believe me. But I'll gladly take looks of disbelief from DeLorean experts over having cracked louvres.

One ball, two nutsUsing the flat-head screwdriver I popped the second strut socket off as well. Once the socket popped off, the ball was exposed. My balls were really dry, so it was a good thing the new struts came fully lubed. The new struts snapped easily on and looked really great as they were a little thicker, beefier and juicier than the old ones.

Everything looked good, but it was completely naive of me to expect perfection. I was completely shocked when I tried to open the engine cover only to have it bang into the louvres. The new Stabilus struts were too short! I couldn't lift the engine cover high enough to lock it into place.

My old struts, at 18 inches from centre to centre, were almost exactly one inch longer than the new struts. I phoned Don at D.M.C. and told him of my woes. He agreed to refund my money and I ordered a new set from P.J. Grady in New York. I nearly had an aneurism when I discovered that they, too, were 1 inch too short.

Since both Don and Rob deal exclusively with DeLoreans as their livelihood, I came to the brilliant conclusion that my DeLorean must have been modified. The original owner, upon the demise of the DeLorean Motor Company, must have feared parts would become unavailable. Logically, he had custom strut mounts created using struts from a more modern vehicle - one that would likely be in production for years.

Canadian Tire blew my mind when they found a replacement for my old struts. A hearty Martini-thank you to the 1989-1994 GMC Jimmy & Chevy Blazer.

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Wednesday, September 13, 2006

An Experiment

Supplies required: 1 banana, lots of Sprite, 1 idiot.

According to my pal Krevin, the Banana-Sprite Challenge is designed to test the mettle of even the toughest stomach. Thinking the Banana-Sprite Challenge was lameass, I accepted.

It was a mistake.

The rules of the Banana-Sprite Challenge are simple: Eat a banana, then immediately chug as much Sprite as humanly possible. According to the laws of banana-carbonation-lemon-lime dissention, your stomach will purge its contents.

"No way" I contested. I just could not believe that was possible. I was confident that I would not regurgitate the creamy banana-spriteshake in my tummy.

Phase one was acquiring the banana, for eleven cents at Food Basics. Bananas were 33¢ per lb., so my banana was a 1/3 of a pound. We then purchased a 2L bottle of Sprite, made by the Coca-Cola Company. With all our supplies, our shopping was done and the experiment entered Phase two.

Krevin is radical.Lorbo had invited us over to her place for the experiment, so that her and baby Carter wouldn't be bored. With Krevin documenting everything, I sat down and ate the banana. Lorbo and Krevin had poured me tall glasses of Sprite. I drank the first glass very quickly. I usually don't drink pop at all, so it was slightly difficult to swallow with all the prickly-hurty bubbles in my throat. But, I toughed it out and drank the second glass as well. By the time I had finished the 2nd glass, Lorbo had filled the 1st one again and, obeying my thirst™, I grabbed it from her. About half-way through the third glass I started feeling a little odd. But I powered through and started on my fourth glass.

Things were really slowing down at this point. As well as feeling really weird, my stomach was basically full. I only downed half of the fourth glass, for a grand total of 1.5 litres of Sprite. From start to finish, it had taken me around 7 minutes to eat the banana and down the Sprite.

When I stood up I discovered I had a problem. I did not feel well at all. In fact, I couldn't stand completely upright. It was like being stuffed full of the biggest roast beef dinner ever, and totally hammered, but without any of the awesomeness associated with being wasted. After 20 minutes of feeling like I wanted to die, I decided I had had enough. The fingers went down the throat.

My 5 minutes in the bathroom completed "The day of vomiting" or "Pukefest '06", following baby Carter just doing what comes naturally, and Krevin - due to a night of drunken Karaoke.

An hour later, at my parents house, the rest of the Sprite came out naturally - for about 3 minutes straight. I had a hard time explaining that one to my dad, but at least now he knows not to accept the Banana-Sprite Challenge.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Ferraris Fancify Festival

Photobucket - Video and Image HostingOn the weekend Suz and I attended the 3rd annual Westitalia festival, which I've blogged about before. The weather was good, but I was reluctant to go because of the pain in my feet. After a discussion, we decided to ride our bikes.

The first year I went I was told by an event employee to get off my bike and walk. I tried to explain to him that I was unable to walk, but he refused to listen, interrupting me only to tell me again to get off my bike, while rowdy teenagers rode their bikes in a rowdy fashion, knocking old ladies over only 10 feet from us.

Furious at how I was singled out despite my cautious & mature riding, I angrily walked away, then hopped on my bike and rode home as fast as possible. I emailed the event organizer (who happens to know my mommy) and told him how I was treated poorly and how I hoped the 2nd Westitalia festival would be different.

The organizer felt badly about the situation and assured me that would not happen again.

This year I was able to ride my bike freely through the streets and around the stages and tents without incident. We admired the massive sand-sculpture, ate Willy-dogs and talked to the Green Venture lady about idling cars. She was pleased to learn we drive an Insight which shuts off when stopped. With a smile on her face, she accepted my offer to bring the Insight to any event they organized in the future.

The highlight of the day, at least for me, was the display of super-cool rare Ferraris. The owners stood nearby while gawkers took in the incredible sight with cameras made mostly in Japan. Combined, there must have been nearly 3,000 horsepower on display, including the ultra-cool Dino 308GT+4 that I wrote about last year. And a car whose owner I had the pleasure of meeting this year.

The new Ferraris are gorgeous cars - there is no doubt about that - but I still prefer the styling of years gone by, and chrome, which the Dino has plenty of.

A week earlier I spoke with the organizer of the event and was disappointed to learn I wasn't able to bring my DeLorean to any of the car displays. Even though it was designed by a famous Italian designer, Guigaro, it certainly wouldn't fit in with the Ferraris. It doesn't really fit in anywhere.

As the sun dropped lower in the sky, the Ferraris started disappearing from the lot as their owners took them home. Suz and I bought $2.00 cupcakes and rode our bikes home. Somehow, it's just not quite the same.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Double Chocolate Isn't Double Yummy

NEW! Extra Chocolate! In Cookie Form!

A very good co-worker friend surprised me this summer with a box of awesomeness: Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp, featuring diabetes-inducing double-chocolate chip cookies.

The box, with a bright red "NEW" banner across the top, states that the flavour is "Double chocolate chip cookies and milk." I temporarily disagree with 50% of this statement: Until the milk is poured onto the cereal, there is no milk flavour.

Regardless, the cereal is fantastically sugary, yet lacking, however, still awesome. Original Cookie Crisp tastes like, well, little cookies. And they're damn tasty. Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp, the newest cookie/cereal combination product from the brilliant minds at General Mills, tastes more like a blast of sugar, with some chocolate chip cookies hidden in the background.

'Size increased (or decreased) to show detail... or not.The cookies in both cereals are effectively identical. I almost discribed them as virtually identical, but I hate the overused word virtually. Anyway, the only difference is that the 'Double Chocolate' cookies are coated in a chocolate confectionary coating, turning them into dark brown sugar demons, devouring your soul in the guise of nutrition. It makes sense. The cookie factory doesn't have to make different cookies. It just has to run overtime to create extra cookies, then blast them with the confectionary coating. That's how you keep jobs in America.

Upon consumption of the ultra-chocolately cookies, I discovered that they weren't quite as good as regular Cookie Crisp. I found that for snack-time, dry Cookie Crisp wasn't totally great, but pour some milk on 'em and they explode with deliciousness. Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp (DCx3) was essentially the opposite: It was fab dry, but didn't taste super great with the moo juice.

DCx3 certainly isn't raunch. Some might find it to be the most supreme cereal they've ever eaten, and would gladly trade a kidney for a bowl. I think that it's an average cereal despite the hype of more chocolate. I would not trade an organ for this cereal. I prefer the regular Cookie Crisp.

In conclusion, I don't think the Cookie Cop has to worry too much about the Cookie Crook - if they even still exist. These cookies will be relatively safe from any stealage, while regular Cookie Crisp still needs protection. One Martini-thumb up for Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Monarch Butterfly Invasion?

Black Swallowtail. Mmm, I bet he's a juicy one, too.

Apparently, this summer, we are experiencing an invasion of monarch butterflies. I say 'apparently' because I've only seen one. And I'd hardly call that an invasion.

Instead of the throngs of Monarchs that are supposedly darkening our skies, clogging our car's air filters and taunting the caterpillars who are "late bloomers", I've seen mostly other butterflies. Like this brilliantly-coloured fellow here, who landed amongst our monster irises.

From the half-assed research I've done on the interweb, I believe this particular butterfly is a male Black Swallowtail. If I'm wrong, I'm sure some creepy, unemployed butterfly fanatic will let me know. You know, the kind of guy who has a poorly lit basement full of glass cases displaying dead insects pinned to the backboard? Yeah, that kind of guy.

Anyway, most of the images I found showed either lots of orange, or lots of blue, but not so many had both the blue and orange markings, like Cameron.

Yeah, I decided to name my butterfly Cameron.

So Cam was more interested in sitting on the leaves and daydreaming about sexy girl-butterflies with hot submarginal bands and a big butterfly abdomen than with sucking the goodly flower juice out of the irises. Probably because the irises were dead, dried up and shrivelled. And nobody likes dried up shrivelled things. Except for those few weirdos who like raisins and prunes.

Cam was probably the kind of butterfly that ate butterfly mushrooms all the time to get high. I don't have any proof, but I could tell that his reaction times were slow when I took pictures of him. He just sat there while I snapped away. Finally, I got bored and went inside.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Seeing Double? A mirror trick? No! It's two Insights, for real!

It's a small world. It's a small car. Seems to be a perfect combination.

Chances are slim that you would see an Insight at a gas station, what with its 1250 km range on a mere 10.6 U.S. gallon fuel tank. In fact, chances are slim you would even see an Insight at all, considering there are less than 400 in Canada. But can you imagine seeing two Insights? Side by side? And, at a gas station no less?

While filling up for the 2nd time in as many months, I was approached by a man who was being eerily silent. "Oh no!" I thought. "What does this guy want?"

The silent dude nodded his head in a westward direction. I couldn't dig what he was communicating. He nodded again, smiling. Now, my clueless brain was thinking, "what the heck is this guy doing? Distracting me while he robs me? Distracting me while he slips a wad of hundreds into my pocket? Distracting me while he sucks my soul out through my nostrils? WHAT?"

He realized I was not catching his drift, and he added a little thumby-thumby action to his nod. I finally looked over and saw his silverstone metallic Insight parked in front of our car. My jaw dropped.

This was our first face-to-face encounter with another Insight owner, and it was bizarre. He told us he was passing by when he saw us filling up. He too, was shocked, and said he just had to pull in and talk to us.

And that's exactly what we did. And, boy were we surprised. Turns out that this mysterious stranger, an environmentally friendly dude who thought it was so cool to see another Insight that he just had to stop, knows, and has jammed with, one of Suz's best friends: Dave Gould.

I hate clichés, but that's all I could of think of: What a small, small world. I wonder if they would play it for me.

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Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Weekend Alky Disaster

Southern Comfort Reserve. Full=awesome. Empty=nasty swear words.Like some twisted Stephen King novel it would appear that I foreshadowed a nightmare, but in reality, I'm just not that smart. I'm not saying I'm not smarter than the above-mentioned hack, I'm just sayin' that I ain't done none of that foreshadowing hooey.

On the long weekend, Suz and I settled down to watch the time compressed, edited-to-fit-my-screen, Ella Enchanted, on TBS, starring Anne Hathaway and featuring Eric Idle of Monty Python fame. In preparation of an enjoyable evening, Suz poured us some "fancy drinks", as we like to call any alcoholic beverage that is tasty in nature, and set them on our coffee table.

Getting ready for an exciting evening of Ms. Hathaway and company, I picked up the goose down couch pillows and began plumping the sh*t out of them. During the plumpification of the pillows, one of them hit my glass of Southern Comfort & Coke and sent it crashing down atop our glass coffee table.

"What the f#@%?!" were the words that I think came out of my mouth. I'm not entirely sure as the panic escalated with Suz yelling, and both of us scrambling to grab paper towels.

For the next 15 minutes, I basically ran back and forth from the kitchen, mopping up the sticky spots on the hardwood. During those 15 minutes there was a heck of a lot of cursing. Why couldn't it have been water? Why couldn't it have been juice worth 6 cents a glass? Why did it have to be my most favourite drink in all the land? And slightly expensive at that? And, why did it have to be the very last of the Southern Comfort?

Gone. All of it. (Except for the mouthful I slurped from the tabletop before Suz yelled at me)

In a foul mood I sat my angry ass down and tried to catch up on Ella Enchanted. Thankfully, the plot was not so difficult and the movie turned out to be the kind I enjoy. At least when I'm not in the mood for guns, karate, explosions, race cars or monkeys.

And, thankfully, TBS is one of those crackpipe stations that doesn't have enough programming to fill its broadcast day. So, while the end credits were running, squashed on the bottom of the screen, Ella Enchanted was starting all over again, squashed in the upper left-hand corner. So, in the end I got to see everything I missed. However, what I really missed was my drink of yumnicity.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Sexy Sony GPS

Sony Nav-U GPS sitting on my front steps. Please don't step on it.

As Sony is my witness, I will never get lost again. Nope, never. And it's all thanks to my new toy, Sony's Personal GPS Navigation System called Nav-U. It's also called NV-U70. I don't know why.

This Nav-U GPS is the first one Sony has attempted. And they deserve a hearty pat on the back, because they did a darn good job. The menus are beautiful, clear, and incredibly easy to understand. That kind of quality is something I expect from Sony - and it's the reason I applied for a "Sony Card" Mastercard about 7 years ago.

Sony Points can be used towards any Sony product, including any DVDs released by Sony Pictures. It's a sweet card for shizzle, yo. I saved up my points and bought my first digicam back in '03, then started the process all over again.

I had been saving my points for almost 3 years when the Nav-U came on the market. But the $800 price-tag was a little too high for me. With a recent huge influx of GPS units from other companies such as Pioneer and Alpine, the competition was getting tough and Sony lowered the price. Twice.

With metallic grey paint and 4.5 cm woofer, the rear of the Nav-U is awesome.I realized I had enough points to snap it up for free so I did just that. I was even able to talk the Sony Store sales dude down another $50, which is something I've never done before. I felt proud when I walked out of the store and opened up my new toy.

The lithium-ion battery was already full of ion-power so I started playing with "Mr. Navington" almost immediately. The touch-screen overjoyed my excited fingers and the sound effects pleased my ears. The speaker system is totally kick-ass, with dual tweeters sandwiching the touch-screen and a big 4.5 cm woofer pounding out the bass from the rear. It's too bad the English babe's voice wasn't as hot as the French chick's pipes. The beefy "Now, turn righTTTT" just doesn't sound as sexy as the French girl's, "Maintenant, tournez à gauche."

I don't know much about computers, but I was surprised to see it used an Intel PXA255 processor running at 300 MHz. Planning a driving route to my parents house took approximately 5 seconds while a slightly longer trip, to Kipling Saskatchewan, (where Jodster will be this weekend) took 20 seconds longer. What's super sweet about the Sony GPS is that if you miss a turn it will re-route you instead of telling you to make a U-turn, like many of the GPS units on the market.

I slapped the "Mega Super Suction Cup" (yes, that's really its name!) to the windshield and clicked the Nav-U into place. It looked like a tiny TV, especially at night, with strong contrast between the bright screen and the blackness. I was giddy. I drove around and watched the 3-D map spin around while ATM and gas station icons whizzed by. I even mounted it in the DeLorean and imagined taking some long, exciting trip. Right now it's still a toy to me, but it will be a sweet tool for us when we take our trip to Burlington, Vermont in November.

Two Martini-thumbs-up for Sony's GPS navigation system, and three Martini-thumbs-up for just how damn sexy it looks.


This many people accidentally stumbled upon my site
...while searching for porn.