Sinister: sinister, your sweet ass gives me pause

[Kevin Hyde]

Hi everyone, 


I've been off-and-on contemplating what sort of compromises I would have
to make to transition into a career as a male softball player. In this
kind of job market and economic atmosphere, I don't think I can afford
NOT to consider all my options, and at this point, breaking into any
traditionally distaff sport looks like my best bet. I figure I can
create some sort of either media frenzy or storm by portraying myself as
a mysterious drifter who's gotten out of the game, but is now realizing
that, for the sake of beer-gutted men everywhere who play at company
picnics, it's time to cast aside any self-doubt and just roll the dice,
etc. This way I can say things like "I'm just going to keep doing what
I'm doing, and if people like it, well, that's a fucking bonus." during
my inevitable interviews with Bryant Gumbel and Bob Costas and ESPN. 

Anyway though, I did want to mention, for those of you who are
sedulously keeping track of all the personal details I reveal through my
extremely standoff-ish and gruff email tone, that my family bought a new
car. Without telling me. Again. Ok, so this wouldn't be such big news, I
know, hardly a drop in the bucket of Sinister Big Time personal
accomplishments, but here's the thing: it's a Pontiac Aztek (do you
U.K.ers have these cars over there? If not, try to imagine an automobile
designed by the bastard child of Frank Lloyd Wright, whose coalminer
mother drank more than the recommended daily allowance of Nyquil during
trimesters 1-3). My Mom apparently fell in love with it. It was not
until I actually saw my Mom driving and enjoying this car that I
realized that if there were such a thing as genetic Venn diagrams of
aesthetic disposition, hers and mine would have a union of: null (which
wouldn't that make an awesome greeting card?). So, yeah besides the
shape of the car, notice the spelling of the name, with a 'k'. And plus
the motto of Pontiac is (or was) "driving excitement". An odd thing to
name a car after, that- the extinct indigenous peoples best known to me
through the Julio Cortazar story "the Night Face Up", which freaked the
juvenile shit out of me. But, perhaps the worst thing about this car is
that it has an unattractive backside. You know what I mean- there are
some cars that just have nice booty, and the Aztek is not one of them.
It would take the Sir Mix-A-Lot of mechanics to appreciate the ass on
the Aztek.

So, maybe enough sexing of American vehicles for one post. 

I have to go respond to an email from one 'heinzyguc at lycos.de' who keeps
writing to inform me of opportunities I might have to casually accost
'barely legal teen pink', which, when you think about it, that's some
pretty impressive synecdoche for a porn mail. 


Sleep tight, 

Kevin

   

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