Somewhere, Steve McQueen is rolling in his grave…
Crocs – the shoe for the kind of person who thinks books are too wordy, or thinks that putting something on your feet that doesn’t make you look like an asylum inmate is for other people – has recently posted that their financial future may not be looking so bright. Which is great. Because now people can go back to wearing proper shoes. And don’t give me that crap about “non skid” or “comfortable” or even “feet could breathe”. You’re not 4. You’re allowed to have laces and buckles and things that are confusing to other species on your feet. You’re allowed to buy grown-up person shoes. I don’t care if they’re comfortable. They make you look like a low-functioning elf.
From the report: The company said it is in discussion to replace its current revolving credit facility, which matures on April 2, but if it cannot secure additional financing and continues to lose money, “we may be unable to maintain a level of liquidity necessary to continue operating our business,”
Not even Mario Batali – who refuses to take off his orange Crocs – can really get away with wearing them. Not even Jared Leto – who has been sporting a pair of silver(!) Crocs – can get away with wearing them. Crocs are the bane of human existence and should be outlawed already if they were not about to go out of business. One day, people will look back and say “wow. those things suuuure looked terrible”. Much like the powdered wig, the fake mole, and the fact that no-one bathed in the 1700’s, future generations will look back and say “Those rubber shoes with the holes in them were for upper middle class people? What the f**k? Was that really necessary?”. It’s not like people who needed them could really get them, either. Not like you saw hobos wandering the streets in the affordable rubber shoes. Because a) they had friggin holes in them and b) I’d rather wear a boot with a floppy sole, too, if I was given the choice. Crocs are the single worst thing to come out of fashion in the 2000’s. We are not all Danish people from the future. We are not all Lilliput people, toiling away in the bubble gum mines in our brightly colored fancy rubber shoes.
Well America. We’ve still got it! If only GM and Chrysler could have consulted with Little Tikes.
The middle of June might seem like an odd time to release sales figures, but we’ve just gotten word that previous reports announcing America’s best-selling vehicle may have been all wrong. While the Ford F-Series pickup has topped the vehicle sales list for as long as we can remember, the car crown has shifted back-and-forth from the Taurus to the Accord to the Camry for the past few decades. Or has it?
A relatively unlikely American carmaker is now laying claim to that title. Little Tikes Co. of Hudson, Ohio has released sales figures for its iconic Cozy Coupe showing that it has outsold all of those four-door family sedans throughout its 30-year production run. That’s right, the red plastic coupe with the yellow top turns 30 this year, and last year alone the company moved 457,000 of them, handily besting the Toyota Camry and Honda Accord.
While the Cozy Coupe you’re buying for your kids today might look just like the one you remember unwrapping yourself 30 years ago, it has actually undergone three revisions in that time. The original Cozy Coupe was actually penned by former Chrysler designer, Jim Mariol, in 1979. It kicked off a riding toy craze that hasn’t subsided. Rather than resting on their laurels, however, Little Tikes has taken the 30th anniversary of America’s favorite ride-on car as a great opportunity for a makeover.
The 2009 model gets Pixar-like eyes up front, a floorboard to keep tiny feet from getting caught under the seat, and a handle and cupholders for parents built into the roof. Besides the classic Cozy Coupe, the company has also offered a variety of specialized models including the Princess edition, a Patrol police car, a Ride & Rescue fire company ride, a pickup truck and the uplevel Grand Coupe among others.
The American-made Cozy Coupe is even being enshrined in the Crawford Auto-Aviation Museum in Cleveland as one of the top twenty best selling models of all time. Congrats on turning 30 and for snagging that best-selling car title. Here’s to 30 more years of happy Little Tikes.
Keep on keeping on America. Show those Euro and Asian imports what we’ve got!
St. Tropez is a place where ballers come to play. It doesn’t have the immediate showing of status symbols like Monaco, but once you drive into the riviera’s country side, you see exactly why they come. Filled with quaint little towns, endless vineyards, chateus …there’s only really two things to do here. Kick it at the beach, or get blitzed out of your skull on France’s epic wine.
I will say, the French do wine so perfectly. Almost too perfectly in fact…where 1,2,3,4 glasses is like nothing. Then you walk away after purchasing a bottle and wonder to yourself, “am I really hammered?!” We started our day and hung out on the beach for roughly two hours or so. Mitch and I stuck out like sore thumbs yet again, due to the fact that the French Connection failed to mention were beach bound. Sure enough, Mitch and I are stuck wearing black shirts and jeans AT THE BEACH. Awesome.
This is us blasting through the countryside. Terrible pic, but you can see Mitch here…
It’s here I realized just HOW rude these people are. Ever have that feeling people are talking about you? Yep, I got two hours of that shit. Lovely. So at this point we head off this badass place called “Le Chateu De Marr” or something to that effect. It was layed out like a giant house, behind it…and endless vineyard.
Some countryside action. Blurry too..
Pictured here, you’ll see the front facing the parking lot.
Sit down, kick back. Wine and Cheese anyone?
Tons o’ wine…
The day ended with us three heading up to one of Frenchie’s pretentious friend’s mini-baller home atop St.Tropez’s heavenly hills. Mitch and I basically showed our asses here as they brought out copious amounts of alcohol. Whisky anyone? What are two uncomfortable ass Americans to do in these situations? Drink!
Just an idea of this guy’s view. If he doesn’t crush pussy with this. He loses at life.
This photo is French for ‘money shot’
That same view, at night.
I had to be getting hammered to agree to these photos. Which one am I?…The one on the far right was a super-douche. Far left, way cool dude.
Mitch and I trying to get comfortable. Mitch definitely looks like he’s getting there.
Note the bottles of ‘Clan Campbell’…The French were quite amazed at the American tolerance for the amount of whiskey served.
I’ll leave you all with this as the end result.
It’s the weekend now and time to really start seeing some things. The French Connection decides it’s time to see Monaco. Monaco is truly a unique place for various reasons, one being that it’s one of the few standing city states left in existance, the TINIEST French speaking ‘country’ in the world and quite frankly, is the most concentrated/clusterfucked amount of ballerness ones eyes will ever see. Monaco is a place that crushes dreams, egos and offers a TRUE view of just how that better half lives. Most importantly about Monaco, it’s home to arguably the MOST important race on the planet. The Formula 1 Grand Prix of Monaco.
This is us blasting through a French tunnel onto Monaco. Now THREE dudes, one droptop. Definitely gay.
Beverly Hills? Eat a dick
Malibu? Don’t make me laugh
The Hamptons? LMFAO
Miami Beach? Welfare status
…The point i’m getting at here; there aren’t many places on this planet that can compare to the grandeur of this beautiful getaway.
So, boats/yachts are great, but what would a trip to Monaco be without the cars? A gross display of ballerdom requires a gross display of baller automobiles. Monaco did NOT fail to deliver. Full equiped with an army of raging bulls, prancing horses and more…it started getting disgusting. It was literally at the point where we’d see, a Ferrari 360 Modena for example, and begin hating because it didn’t quite match up with what’s around it. Ferrari fail as we’d call it. So what did we see?…
How about multiple F430 Scuderias. Not just normal ass ‘430’s…They HAD to be Scuds.
How about an Enzo?
One of DOZENS of Ferrari California’s…
R8 AND an R8 10.cyl Anyone?
(Warning shitty R8 10Cyl. Pic. Too many people crowded around it..)
How about a RICED out Lambo? LOL! Failside bodykit anyone?
Lamborghini of Monaco..
LOL random ass Tesla Roadster.
Maserati MC12, Veyron and a stupid Megan RS
no big deal…just a teaser….
and another letting it all hang out…
F1 Safety cars. No big deal..
AT&T-Phillips keeping it low-pro..
and of course, with money and fast cars. Comes with the F1 sluts. Love it.
There are PLENTY of more Monaco pictures to come. I’ll most likely have to make a Monaco 2 entry.
Continuing from my previous entry, we have a few things to talk about. First off, I’ll take you to 5/21/09. It’s approximately 5:30 or so am France time, and The French Connection and I are basically trying to figure out what the hell to do while sobering up again. Mitch arrives in three hours at this point. We end up jetting around the A8 freeway and ending up back in Nice along the Promenade de Anglais. We stop at an Esso gas station, pick up some shitty sandwiches (still on The Connection’s tab) throw down two Red Bulls and decide it’s time to just hang out on the beach. One thing I can really say, is watching the sunrise over the Mediterranean is something I’ll never forget. Breathtaking.
Time flys and it was now time to head back to Cote D’Azur airport. Enter Mitch Mckee of VE Engineering…
World renowned ECU tuner, Mechanical Engineer, A good friend and certified dirt bag. He flew in through some other terminal then where I came in through. He flew Delta, apparently 50 cent flys Delta since he was on Mitch’s flight. Wouldn’t that guy have his own private jet by now? Wack. I can say I was relieved to see Mitch, now I wasn’t the only American for miles.
Off we went like a torrent through The Riviera’s freeways. For the record; The French Connection drives like a goddamn maniac. We sped at a constant 230 kph (that’s 140 mph for those not in the loop) This kid swerves and veers through lanes like a drunk college co-ed on a rowdy weekend. In France, it’s illeagal to pass on the right, yet he still does this and has the audacity to honk or flash his brights on people who passes on the right. I lost count how many times Mitch uttered “We’re gonna die!”
(Some very quick background information; The French Connection has a friend, whom we’ll call slutface. Slutface was in need of money that month for her rent. Being that he had two Americans coming his way, and didn’t want to expose his family to our filt. So he decided to go ahead and bargain with his broke friend. The French Connection went ahead and payed for half of her rent, or something to that effect in exchange for her to leave her apartment for two weeks while Mitch and invade)
So we decided it was time to get all of our stuff situated, and prep for the days ahead. Off we went to a little area called Mougins (aka Moogins, as we’d mockingly call it) where our apartment was. Moogins is a quaint little area, roughly 15 mins or so from Cannes and about 20 or so from Antibes. What quickly surprised me, was how the French often had resitential properties stacked ontop of commercial properties. Our little area had small little resturaunts, shops, Pharmacies and even a police station under a ton of apartments.
We arrived at the scene. Climbing two flights of stairs and arriving at the apartment. This wasn’t my first time here, as I had been there to drop my stuff off my first night prior to heading off to Cannes. For Mitch, this was an eye opener. The reason why I say eye opener, is because this is when he realized that him and I could never trade off on the fouton. His 6 ft. plus ass would never even fit on it as one of us still had to sleep on the floor. Super. This place was BEYOND Tiny. You couldn’t even call this place a studio, 200sq. Ft. MAX combining the kitchenette, living room and a bathroom. Oh but it had a balcony!
The surrounding area was very quiet sometimes, too quiet in fact. Then, once you’d get used to it some stupid scooter would come buzzing away and disturb everything. Oh, and for the record I HATE SCOOTERS. Here’s some more visuals of our surrounding area. This first pic is from the balcony, facing the left.
This is facing the opposite direction…*note the playground* Mitch was stoked to know he could he keep an eye on the kids…even in France 🙂
An arial view of our Pigeon coupe.
Once fully showered and situated, we layed low and bar hopped the next couple of nights. We frequented Le Sun7 Cafe quite a bit and would bounce back to the apartment. Fast forward to Saturday or Sunday, as we got prepped for one of the sickest places my eyes would ever lay eyes on – Monaco.
…Stay tuned. Part 3 is on its way.
Well my faithful haters, I’ve decided to go ahead and grace your ever-so-hungry eyeballs with more of my absolutely amazing words. In one of my previous blogs, you may recall my rantings on how absolutely ignorant, and quite frankly, stupid many Americans can be. Let it be known, despite our social…and ever growing physical short comings we still are the greatest nation on this God forsaken planet.
Before I even bother to equip my flame suit, many would ask…what prompted this sudden declaration of patriotism? Simply put, I’ve been able to do, what only so many Americans dream of. I’ve recently returned from abroad. I’ve met many different people. Some very open to dialogue, others who frankly don’t give a shit, drunk Finnish people, Scots, Brits, Italians…but no other people on this planet thus far cease to not only piss me off, but further solidify my burning hatred then whom?…
You know, it’s a damn shame that these people have been blessed the amazing real estate they call home. Never in my existence, have I locked horns with more self-righteous, rude and pompous people. So, as an American, just WTF was I doing there? Well, here it goes…
A fellow hater, and comrade in arms Mitch McKee of VE Engineering and myself set out from the United States to this ever-hostile territory for a few reasons. Mitch, being the world renowned ECU Tuner he is, set out to tune our French Connection’s APS Twin Turbo’d 350Z. His payment would be a free trip to France and tickets to the Monaco Grand Prix Formula 1 Race. Not familiar? It’s a big fucking deal. More to come on that later…My reason? I had a rotting credit with American Airlines that I refused to let expire this year…and frankly, I needed to fucking see this world. So off we went.
Destination – The French Riviera.
5-20-09, I spend two hours straight conversing with a drop-dead gorgeous British girl named Charlotte. I always had this thing for their accent, this British Airways flight from London assured that. She rocked, loved hip-hop and had a pretty good sense of humor. Her teeth were all in the right place too. Too bad I didn’t get an opportunity for that number. She was headed to Monaco. We ended up getting separated in customs anyway.
I now land in Nice, France’s Cote D’Azur Airport after layovers in Dallas and London. It’s at this point I immediately notice the smell of burning that France seems to have in the air. It’s terrible. Anywho, Cote D’Azur is a teeny, tiny airport that shoots out international flights, and domestics within France. It’s pretty unique. It reminds me of Burbank’s Bob Hope Airport, but with mini-baller shops, customs and international flights.
I’m fortunate enough to quickly grab my luggage. I call The French Connection (his real name is Charles) he’s on his way at this point. I kick it for about 45 mins or so. Not half bad.The time is about 6pm in Nice, the weather is very similar to California’s at this time of year – fucking perfect. He proceeds to rush in, get me and tell me about our rental…
It’s a 2009 Audi A3 Cabriolet 2.0TDI. We don’t get these in the U.S. Normally, I would say this is a car I wouldn’t be caught dead in, especially with another dude. Unfortunately, I had no choice at this point. Couldn’t we have gotten a gay ass euro-hatch? Whatcha know about two dudes, one little droptop. We looked about as straight as a circle together. Off we go storming down Le Promenade Des Anglais. It’s a gorgeous strip of asphalt that sits along the Mediterranean. Here you’ll see people jogging, sun bathing, walking…doing whatever.
From there, we basically proceed to go straight to drinking. The French Connection likes to frequent this place called Le Sun7 Cafe in Cannes. Quick French lesson for you folks, 7 is pronounced “set”…put the two together, The Sunset Cafe, kind of clever. Needless to say, I quickly find out why this guy frequents this joint. It’s a intimate little bar, with an extremely youthful vibe that stays up for MANY hours. It’s here I quickly learned about European’s love for being out fucking late. You can see in the link HERE how this place looks from the outside.
Needless to say this place gets rowdy. Decently priced drinks, if you even want to call it that coming from the US, good music…not a bad start to a trip. There’s alot that happened that night concerning this place, but I’ll touch on that, on another day. Bear in mind, this whole time The French Connection will NOT allow me to get Euros. I’m still stuck with US Dollars. He’s forced to foot the bill. We get thoroughly blitzed, and end up having to pull an all nighter, due to the fact that Mitch is arriving at 8:30 or so the following day. Definitely a start to a trip.
….definitely more to come in the next session folks!