Take exit 5A and head straight into oncoming traffic

Lately I’ve noticed a sudden influx of newly painted, brightly colored vehicles with matching window tint. As in someone took a 1984 Caprice with an original paint job in the dusty brown category, painted it candy-apple red with a hint of glitter and then tinted the windows to match. Red tint. What purpose does this serve? Are you attempting to distract us from the fact that you have windows? It must be some new thing, some new thing that involves the population making an attempt to be more white trash/ghetto/redneck than the previous generation. Perhaps it’s just some interior design fad gone horribly wrong. Someone misread the part in the design book that said keeping the room in the same color scheme makes it look bigger. Or something. I don’t really know what those interior design books say but I’ve watched a hella lot of decorating shows and I’m absolutely positive this is a theory. But them something went horribly wrong and it was applied to a vehicle. In candy-apple glitter red and sparkling green sherbert and fiery crackling orange. ALL WITH MATCHING WINDOW TINT.

Transition

The only time I advocate smoking is when it’s a radio personality. Because maybe one day they’ll get throat cancer and never speak again. Never inflict their nasal laugh or grating dialectical nightmare on the general public again. Never throw in an endorsement for Big Daddy’s Pawn Shop in the middle of the traffic report. Never say that Big Daddy’s will give you cash for all your jewrrry, when it should so obviously be pronounced jewl-er-y. Three very distinct syllables, SAY IT WITH ME NOW. Also, I’d never again have to sit at a redlight and ponder, even for a second, about Deer Widows. And why a nightclub if offering free admission and two-dollar well drinks for the aforementioned Deer Widows. I know I had to have heard that term before because it’s not like my father didn’t spend half my life at deer camp. In fact, he used to bring home the carcasses and string them up to a tree in our backyard and let the blood drain out of them. This probably bothers many people, this image of a limp deer dripping blood into a backyard, and I could not possibly care less. Because my dad can make some killer deer sausage and that deer was going to good use inside my belly. So my first thought when hearing that Deer Widows got in free was “Holy shit, there are that many women who’ve lost husbands in the deer woods to advertise this on the radio?” Followed by, “That’s really kind of sick. Who thought up this promotional crap, anyway?” A few seconds later followed by, “Oh. They mean wives whose husbands have gone off to deer camp. Clever. AND FUCKING STUPID.” Granted, it has never escaped my attention that I live in Arkansas. But I live in a city of roughly 280,000 people and for whatever reason, sometimes I mistakenly get confused and think this is, I don’t know, someplace where people don’t celebrate the first day of deer season with head-to-toe camo and a celebration that outshines Baby Jesus’ birthday.

Also radio related: I keep thinking the Outback Steakhouse jingle is a for-real song and I’ll stop the radio dial to get in a full ten seconds of head bopping only to realize I’ve been conned by the Outback jingle AGAIN.

Another Transition

Last night I went to Movie Xchange and perused their television series section. I love this section, love it like I love cheese sandwiches. They carry everything from ‘Friends,’ volumes 1-infinity, to ‘La Femme Nikita.’ I almost rented ‘Nikita’ last night and, laugh all you want, rented ‘Moonlighting’ instead. Bruce Willis circa 1987, BE STILL MY HEART. I rented season four because that was all they had. Obviously I had no idea what I was getting myself into, though it did suddenly become blindingly clear why my father would casually change the channel during the show. I mean, I always knew what he was doing. Someone was doing something naughty on TV and I wasn’t supposed to see it. Like the tongue-kissing scene in ‘Top Gun.’ Or the part in ‘Troop Beverly Hills’ where the wishy-washy troop leader says “Screw you, Velma!” It must be some strange dad-instinct because he’d always change the channel just as David and Maddie made sexual reference number 5,678. IN ONE EPISODE. Also, and maybe she just went a little crazy in season four, but Maddie was such a raging bitch. Jeez.