erotic baked goods...what's wrong with me?

I went to lunch today with some people from work. Gary tells me there is a good philly cheese steak place that recently opened up and got good reviews. Though I'm not much into sandwiches unless it's me in the middle, I decided to play along. Rule number 11, never disagree with the boss on trivial stuff such as lunch.

So we come up to Philly Bilmos, An East Coast Deli. At first I read it as "Philly Bimbos", but then I corrected my dyslexia. We walk up to the door and I came across this sign:


I paused at this sign for more time than is normal. Why? Because of another word that popped into my mind when I read "TASTYKAKE" -> "BUKAKE". "Tasty Bukake?" Thought I. "Can't be! Too extreme!" Thought I some more. Bukake is a Japanese term, where tens, sometimes hundreds, of men masterbate and deposit their outcome onto the face of a single, kneeling female. "They made a food product from that?!" Thought I again.

Disturbed about what kind of sandwich shop I'm getting into, I reluctantly enter. Turns out, Tastykake reads much like tasty+cake, not tasty+ka+ke that made me associate with Japanese facial. But for some reason, I didn't want to try a Tastykake.

The sandwich was really quite good. Instead of the 6 and 12 inch that is common, Philly Bilmos has 8 and 16 inch cheesesteaks. I'd hit it again.

my new pontiac solstice

Ever since I drove my friend Glen's Miata some 12 years ago, I wanted a two seat roadster. I remember the day. It was February, and it was muy frio. I wake up to the sound of ringing door bells, and then someone helping himeself in. My bedroom door flung open and there stood, at 5 foot 5, a disheveled Singaporean.

"My computer is broken and I have a project due tomorrow. I'm going to use your computer."

Great. I thought. Thanks a lot for waking me up so early in the morning at... Shit! It's 2PM?

I walk to my computer, turn it on, log in, and turn to Glen, "Don't do whatever it is you did on your peecee and break mine. Oh, and, gimme your keys."

"You're not driving my Miata."

"Then I guess you're not getting your project done. Give it or I'll beat you with this beer bottle."

Five minutes later I was in a shirt, a sweatshirt, a parka, snowman gloves, top down and on the road. Oh and pants too. It was a beautiful sunny day, but there were much snow on the ground. People were driving by looking incredulous. Mostly likely they are thinking "WFT?!"

Fast foward 12 years. There I was, only a few days ago, poking on the internet looking for a dealer with a black Pontiac Solstice. Some months ago Patrick told me about this car, and breaking men's law (never date your friend's ex, and never get the car you friend might consider the possibility of financing), I decided that's the car for me.

Sure, I already own a convertible Mustang, but I consider it a compromised between what I wanted and what is practical. It's quaint that the Mustange can hold 4 people with a decent trunk (which currently holds two chainsaws, a can of Miller Lite, Mo's shirt from last year, pair of jeans, first aid kit, some books, socks, sandals, and god knows what), but it is not true the unpractical waste of money that I truly desired.

Last Saturday I had a morning class, Global Human Resources conducted by the ever capable Dr. Taylor. I did not attend. I had arranged for a test drive of a black Pontiac Solstice, the only one within 500 mile radius.

It was a joy to behold. The front reminds me of a early era Porsche with its rounded wrap around bumpers. The top disappears into a clamshell, giving it a true roadster look. It is like a teardrop, which is exactly what I shed when I rubbed up gentle against its hydroformed body.

It is practical? With the top down, the effective trunk space is about 1.5 cubic feet. Not enough for my briefcase. Curiously, it has three cup holders for this little two seater. Performance? At 177 BHP, it's not super fast. But it does have a near 50/50 weight distribution running on massive 18 inch chrome wheels, making it entirely tossable around corners. The facial expression of onlookers as I drove by is almost enough to warrant a purchase, not to mention the hokey smile permanently etched on my mug.

Life, and this summer, is turning out to be very good.