fit 3 fit dutchies into a tiny cabriolet

I have a knack for harassing people on the road with newer versions of the 911. I can't help it! They are almost always snobby and uptight. This is in comparison with encountering other 964 or 993 owners, which is usually accompanied by big grins, flashing lights, beeping horns, and childishly frantic waving. Like last week when I passed a 993 and he flashed his lights in comradeliness. And another time I had a race with a 964 Targa, followed by smiles and waves. That was cool.

But the 997 drivers are just too cool. Not that I expect big grins or childishly frantic waving, but don't you dare sneer at my baby with your dismissive air of superiority! And so, when my roadrage level is cruising at the moderate to high mark, I will pull up to the window of a potential victim- to examine his or her demeanour. And if their aloofness floats above the variable aloofness threshold (depends on roadrage level), then they are punished. 

How? Well, the 997 engine sounds great at full tilt, sure, but it is nothing to the 964's intoxicating burble and roaring scream at WOT (wide-open throttle). So I scream past the victim with my glorious flat-six hurtling towards red-line. Now I know what you may be thinking- how is pulling a typical asshole road manoeuvre going to in any way punish the snobby dude? Well, after he sighs and rolls his eyes at my antics, he will inevitably realise that: his car will never, ever, sound half as good as my little old air-cooled monster. And he will be sad. His dismissive airs were sucked through my engine and shot out into his frowning face, without even the common decency of being filtered through a catalytic converter first. 

But roaring past them was getting old. I needed some new burns. So I came up with others, like calmly cruising past Mr super serious silver turbo, the back of my open soft-top bristling with surfboard, guitar, and cool. What's wrong Mr serious, would you like to learn to surf? Oh I'm sorry, you wouldn't dream of bringing your silver phallus on wheels anywhere near the sand. Do you want to get a guitar too? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot the only music you ever listen to is trance and house, even when you may decide to venture to the beach... to tan.

The other night I found my newest way of burning those snobs. I was cruising down Al-Sufouh road with 3 Dutch cuties that I managed to squeeze into the little 964, their hair flying wildly in the wind. I spotted a 997 cabriolet up ahead. Top down, as well... and same colour too! So I cruise past and give him a little beep beep to rouse his attention. "Oh hey snobby bald guy wearing shades at night, I have three cute girls in my Porsche, how many do you have?" 

But his brow doesn't furrow in contempt. Instead, he throws his head back and laughs, returning my gesture with a beep beep of his horn. We all laugh. He was aight.

Took a few photos recently, I needed them for emailing something to Top Gear. Let's see how that goes...


For those who care:

1990 Carrera 4 Cabrio, european spec, manual
Modifications:
Lightweight flywheel and RS clutch
Steve Wong DME chip
Wevo black engine mounts
Rennline engine carrier reinforcement
Rennline strut tower brace
Cat bypass
Drilled Airbox

tier their dreams

Several weeks ago I was at work, tired, and on my lunchbreak. Instead of going to eat I slip into a dark unused vocal booth, recline the chair, put my feet on the table, and doze. Soon I was in the middle of some epic dream, running away from these dark, mysterious figures. And when I say dark and mysterious I mean genuinely and not some stupid laughable apparition out of a Harry Potter movie.


Anyway, this is unusual because most of the time anything threatens me in a dream, I either destroy it or it cowers and surrenders. I have so much power and prowess in my dreams that I won't mind if some of it runneth over into the dimension that actually matters. Let's just say that in real life if a shark bit off my arm I wouldn't punch the crap out of it with my good arm, and then regard the bloody remains of the other with indifference.


So yeah, these evil guys are chasing me relentlessly. They get quite close to grabbing me and I wake up. This startlingly accurate re-enactment follows the events directly after. It was shot in its original location, too:

So what happens? Well these two random indian guys walk in, and they look at me, looking with their pertrubed look. I don't know, I just stare straight back at them. He then carries on and explains to his associate the contents of a box, before they both exit. I then check the time on my phone, rise from my reclined state, and get back to my desk.


I had a similar (but lucid) dream a few days later, inspired by the first obviously (how original right?). I just 'woke up' 3 or 4 times in the same reclined position, walked out of the booth and wandered around my office. One iteration had the carpets in purple, and it was deserted... in another the carpets were blue and it was bustling with employees. There were no terrifying evil pursuers this time, though this version of the dream wasn't PG-13 either...


Now before you start accusing me of a mind heist from the Inception plot, know that I had layered dreams way before C Nolan conceived his masterpiece. I have had so many that it would take many blog posts to recount half of the cool ones.


But they weren't always cool. I recall as a kid I would wake up in my bunkbed desperately needing to pee. So I would drag myself closer to the edge of the bed, and then doze back into dreamstate. I'm peeing in my dream, but never relieving the real need. Angry, I wake up again... and draaag myself a little closer to the edge of the bed and... back to the eternal urinal. Rinse and repeat till I mustered enough conscious frustration to spring out of bed like an animal and stride to the bathroom like it owed me money. Did you ever see a kid pee with a vengeance? You would have if you saw me that night.


But that's not even the worst scenario. The worst is when I was even younger than that and still wetting my bed- well past the toddler years. Same bathroom dream, but regrettably, it wouldn't recur. There was no second chance. Toilet dream is game over, bro. You wake up- sleepover at your friend's house. It dawns on you that you've just massacred your pyjamas and left your friend's spare mattress with a yellow stain the size of China. Those were dark days, indeed. And wet. Let's see you explain that in the morning :(

have these quirks

Am I the only one with these ridiculous accomodations? For example, last night I was heading to the pool, expecting it to be empty so I could do some laps. Instead there was this couple there whispering to each-other. Plus I realised I would rather go to the pool that had the gym, so I decided to leave. 

But I couldn't just, like a normal person, immediately swivel on my heel and leave. I didn't want them to perceive that I changed my mind because of them. So I pretended to look at my watch and then mutter "Oh shit...", then as I walked out I pick up my phone and have an imaginary phone-call where I just blab "Hello? Hello? Psshh.." and finally, walk away. My little performance is complete. The random pool-goers, if they ever gave a shit in the first place, will just think I had some minor emergency to attend to and not that I was pool-touring the compound for the one with the least weirdos in it...


Check out who was chilling with me in the pool shower!

He got a bit annoyed when he got splashed by a little water... so I told him, "You're chilling in the damn shower guy, what did you expect?" ...and he begrudgingly agreed, retreated to a corner, and resolved to the situation.

Frist Psot

This is going to be my shameless, often immature, sometimes pretentious, and usually self-indulgent blog to post whatever I want. These will include everyday musings mostly, as well as experiences, photos and videos of:

Music

Ocean riding

Space

Girls

Girls in space

Cars

Girls on cars

Girls in cars (just kidding, girls can't drive)

.....KITTIES! (awww)

Silly things

My mind-blowing art

And more...