Tag: road trip

Our Exodus From The Great Southern Swamp Once & For All

As all these stories start we woke at dawn (or the ass crack off dawn for my fellow non morning friends) and proceeded to try to drink Dunkin Doughnuts out of coffee. We had to wait until 11 am before we could pick up the small army of Uhaul trailers the reason being our Slumlord wouldn’t allow us to park the vehicles in the parking lot overnight like an asshole. So we set out to finish “Tidying Up” and do last minute patching, painting and deep cleaning while we waited. I don’t personally have the patience to wait which is why I hate waiting. Patience is a virtue I was born without.

Finally we get the Uhauls lined up out front of the office and for the next 4 hours did nothing but load the trucks up one after the other. We then packed up our office animal and put rubber to asphalt. Just our luck The Great Southern Swamp had one more fuck you for us as we made our final escape. The entire east side of The Great Southern Swamp was hit with a series of brutal tropical storms. The storms were so intense you couldn’t see the tail lights of the car 6 feet in front of you thus slowing down our progress severely. After battling the tropical storms for almost 8 hours we crossed the state line leaving the Great Southern Swamp looming in our review mirrors.

The rest of the trip to the Southern Country went relatively smooth in spite of god knows how many fueling stops, bathroom breaks and other minor difficulties. We reached our new home office (which since moving have decided to dub “The Black Lodge” a tribute to the band Anthrax, what I told you I’m older than dinosaur shit?!) a little past 3 am and were needless to say exceptionally glad to have reached our destination and get the hell off the road. As we started to unload My Wife suddenly informed me the only key we had was missing. We stumbled around road weary and some what sleep deprived (everyone was excited about the move so no one really got any thing resembling actual sleep) looking in vain for the lost key. It was the brought to my attention there was a back up emergency key stashed about 30 minutes away. Not thrilled in the least my Wife and I got in our car, leaving the kids (staff) and critters on the front porch of The Black Lodge. Once we reached the house where our emergency key was at we had to enter the code given to us by the owner to shut off the security alarm. Needless to say in our delirious state we instead of shutting the alarm off we set it off. I can not begin to describe the sound this alarm made it was not only deafening (even with your fingers in your ears so far their tickling your brain) and disorienting in it self. It was so insanely loud we actually could think coherently, it was like the kind of shit the police/military/government agencies do when they blast music to end a standoff.

I managed to hold my shit together long enough to clock the alarm company’s phone number off the alarm box and ran across the street to call them. The alarm company was cool as shit and the problem was taken care of, well that one at least. My Wife then went in to retrieve our emergency key and I shit you not it wasn’t there. I then tried to contact the owner which took awhile being at that point it was around quarter to 4 in the morning. I did catch up with the owner in the end who then informed me they had our key with them. The only issue with that was the owner was on vacation in motherfucking Las Vegas which obviously left us high and dry.

With no other option my Wife and I got back in the car once again and headed back to The Black Lodge. Once we arrived we informed the Kids (Staff) we would be sleeping in the same vehicles we were so happy to get out of in the first fucking place. Fortunately that would only translate to approximately 4 hours or so because it turned out our contractor still had a copy of our key which we retrieved at 8:30 am the next day.

All in All it seems like a fitting end to our chapter in The Great Southern Swamp and our the start of our new chapter here in The Southern Country.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

 

The Staff Speaks: Here is WTF is Going On

Hey good readers this is the first (and more than likely the only) time we the staff here at f-yourblog.com will be able to address you directly. Les has given us this unique opportunity due to well a few things actually. To keep things short and concise we will list WTF is Going on here in no specific order.

  1. We are all extremely psyched with our new home offices in the southern country (which we have already named The Black Lodge), and to be out of the soul sucking great souther swamp. We have almost completely resettled and ready to get f-yourblog revered up to its fully awesome potential
  2. We are aware Les claimed to have our operation up and running by July 15th. Les in all actuality shot a glance at a wall calendar (yes he’s that old) and went with the 1st number he saw that at the time he thought made sense. WE APOLOGIZE for this miscommunication and inconvenience.
  3. We are also aware of the fact the Les has launched the Road Tripping with f-yourblog.com series (posting Navigator rules/regulations for example) without actually explaining wtf it is exactly. So with out further a delayed ado here it is. Road Tripping is an experimental brain child of Les’s in Gonzo-Gorilla photography and videography. The teams consist of two people the driver and the aforementioned navigator. The road trip has no designated destination or itinerary the rules are simple return on time and keep content from the road coming consistently. The pictures/video taken will not feature the usual bullshit such as standing at the grand canyon, posing by the statue of liberty, standing by a star’s star in hollyweird, no disney postcard crap, no posed pictures all subjects must remain oblivious of photographing/filming (people act fake as shit all bowing up and grinning like court jesters while posing in some cliche pose when they even see a camera, man’s natural born vanity) Bottom line: All photos/videos must be viewed through the absurdly insane artist’s eyes to see the bizarre world that they live inside the confines of their skulls.
  4. Fuckbook (facebook) update of sorts?! The fact that fuckbook locked Les out of his accounts (Personal page and promo for f-yourblog.com) because for personal privacy Les used a pen name. Meanwhile on fuckbook live assholes and psychofucks posted murders, bragged about killing people and posted violent police chases filmed by the suspect. ANYWAY the point is fuckbook threatened to dismantle Les’s pages unless he could prove his identification in 2 weeks THEY HAVEN’T. While Les being barred currently YOU CAN STILL CHECKOUT LESS SOBER and f-yourblog.com’s PAGES for shits and giggles or to kill time while your perched on the crapper.

5. Les unfortunately still has the displeasure of selling our old home offices in the great souther swamp, and as of a phone call Friday afternoon, has been virtually unavailable. He’s had a phone attached to his ear and paces feverishly as he remedies whatever the issue is (we don’t honestly know, but Les keeps saying something about a shitty handyman who if Les ever sets eyes on again he will stab said handyman in the face repeatedly with a rusty fork?!)

6. While Les has an affinity for Twitter because its the 2nd most effective form of free promotion, and lets face it we are bout broke (we survive off a steady diet of toilet wine and sardines and saltines) WE HAVE BROUGHT TO LES’S ATTENTION that we should run the road tripping series simultaneously HERE and on twitter. Les agreed with a patented  “Fuck it. Do it.” As we already have compiled over 800 photographs and a large handful of videos already we can get the series up and running tomorrow easy as a $2 crackwhore.

7. We have lost SpaceDog along the move and don’t know his current whereabouts as of late. Though Spacedog is not clocked on our radar Les assured us he has caught up with SpaceDog who was pounding Singapore Slings (like his name was Hunter S. Thompson) and killing it at the casino. We look foreward to having SpaceDog back with us as soon as he gambles himself broke

8. Lastly Les is trying to get another chief contributor by the name of Bujo to complete what he is referring to as his “3 pronged trifecta” We have absolutely no further information or details pertaining to this artistic collaboration.

Thats all we have to report now, thanks for reader’s continued support and encouragement.

sincerely the silent staff

Editor’s Note From Les Sober

Attention Readers: If you are interested in becoming a Navigator on a f-yourblog.com Road Trip as part of our f-yourblog.com Road Tripping Series,  Just enjoy Road Trips ,Appreciate uniquely absurd Photography or are just curious to see what f-yourblog.com’s Road Tripping Series is all about PLEASE CHECK OUT OUR TWITTER ACCOUNT TO SEE PHOTO’S AND HEAR STORIES FROM CURRENTLY ONGOING ROAD TRIPS (& A DAILY DOSE OF INSANITY)

Less_Sober@f-yourblog

We’d like to Thank our readers for all their continued Help, Support,Loyalty, and Encouragement.

The Cop, The Crooks and The Kegger

It was a night as another night in the small town of Phucitville USA when I along with my friend Space Dog ran into a couple of friends of ours at a local shit strip mall. their names were Firefly and her on again off again love triangle entangled boyfriend Hermoor which is Scandinavian translates into ”War Spirit”. Now the gruesome twosome had gotten themselves into a bit of trouble (selling counterfeit acid) and needed a ride out of town about as fast as they could get one. They asked Space Dog and myself (though I was the one with the car) if they could bum a ride, but this wasn’t just a spin around the block as it were they needed a road trip into the deep south. With Space Dog as my copilot as well as my traveling companion for the return trip I said it be no problem so we planned to meet up the next day and hit the road.

When the morning arrived I drove over to Space Dog”s, picked him up and headed out to meet up with FireFly and Hermoor at the designated location. Once we got to the spot we had to find them in a crowd of people who turned out for some fundraiser “fair” that had been scheduled for the same day. Finally we found them collecting money owed (as he was the biggest drug connection in the entire county in spite of his acid antics) and peddling whatever contraband they had left to fund their/our road trip. At last with cash in hand and out of contraband (accept for the personal head stash Hermoor kept at all times.) we managed to get going as it was going to be quite awhile on the road to say the least. We spent the entire day limping down the highway as my car (being older then dirt) kept over heating every 45 minutes or so (turned out once we arrived to be a minuscule hole in the radiator hose) and smoking weed at every rest area along the way waiting for the car to cool down. Once the sun set traveling was much more productive since obviously it was much much cooler.

It was around 1 am I was driving (Hermoor and I were trading off driving as Space Dog and FireFly where old enough but yet still didn’t have a drivers licenses) I had been driving 6 hours or so straight and started to suffer white line syndrome, thats when your so tired you start to see double as your vision becomes increasingly blurry. I took the next exit I could find and pulled into a gas station at the bottom of the exit ramp. I woke the crew up for refueling the car and ourselves then decided it was time I called home since my family hadn’t seen hide nor hair of me in 72 hours (friends used to call and where told by my family that wasn’t there and had the caller seen me and if so when) I moseyed over to the pay phone (Yup life before cell and smart phones) and called my family collect. No one answered because it was after 1 am in the morning , but the answering machine (yup life before voice mail hard to comprehend even for me) so I left a message saying I was on the road with friends headed into the deep south and would be home in a couple days or so. As soon as I hung up the receiver out of the corner of my eye I saw a fucking cop drive into the gas station and park. Now he didn’t park at a gas pump nor near the gas station’s front door instead he pulled up next to the curb where he could see us and us him (common cop tactic to intimidate so if the civilian acts nervous because fuck their being intimidated on purpose then the cunt cop can fuck them over 9 ways till Sunday.) The first thought that went through collective conscience was “FUCK! Now what the hell we do??!”

What you must understand is the following facts:

  1. I was 19 and my friends were 17-19 years old so to the cops we were a group of young punks.
  2. There was the matter of the various contraband items that comprised Hermoor’s head stash in the car.
  3. We all were exhausted not to mention stoned as Tommy Chong at the time.
  4. We had out of state plates on the car (a natural attractant of unwanted police attention) too.
  5. We had by this time ventured into the religious region of the south and we obviously weren’t church going folk.
  6. Cops are BIGGER assholes in the religious religion of the south BIG TIME.
  7. The way we were dressed made us stand out like the Las Vegas strip. I was wearing a leather biker jacket (no shirt), worn as worn can get jeans, a pair of shot out shit kickers and a dog collar with pad lock. Hermoor was sporting his Black Metal Scandinavian heritage gear that consisted of a Leprous Troll T-shirt, combat boots and some sort of Norwegian viking kilt. FireFly was sporting a tie dyed sun dress and was barefoot like some wannabe woodland hippy elf. Lastly Space Dog was wearing a Sonic the Hemp Hog T-shirt, ragged jean shorts and a stuffed pair of Doc Martins.

At this point we figured all we could do is prepare for the worst and hope for the best as we were destined to get royally fucked with and likely over by this deep south son of a bitch pig. The cop after pausing an exorbitantly long pause (also designed to instill unease in citizens by the cocksucking cops.) rolled down his window and asked us strait away if we were coming from the local collage kegger party to which we responded that no we hadn’t been at the party as we were out of staters just stopping off to get some gas before moving along. Once again there was a longer then normal drawn out pause on the crappy cops end. After his 2nd planned pause the cop said something we had never anticipated so much it almost turned our brains into shit with utter surprise and awe. What follows is almost verbatim but time has worn my memories so its not quite a direct quote.

Cop: “Have you all coming from the kegler down at the college?”

Us: “No just getting some gas and heading out back on the road and not aware of this or any kegler.”

Cop: “Well then, I’ll tell you how you can get there….”

The cop went on to give us complete details and directions to the party before telling us rather cheerfully to be safe, take it easy and safe travels before rolling up his window and slowly driving off into the shadowy vail of night.  As soon as he was out of sight we jumped in our car and drove like a motherfucker as far away from there as we could get.

Nice not to get arrested for once, not to mention a cop has never given me directions to a college kegler or any party for that matter. Luck be a lady tonight.