Posted on 01/06/2006 5:49:22 AM PST by BJClinton
Cool, the first OFST of the new year. My only standing resolution was to make no more resolutions and I've already broken it. *shrugs*
Not me. I wouldn't have it done if it was paid for. I hear it's painful. Plus, I don't like my picture taken.
No worries! Yeah, Dash..exactly does one without any airplane mechanical training do, other than wax and buff?
Oh...I know..stand around and look pretty! :-)
We would definitely have to transport it, there are some shows here, and then there is the Las Vegas Motor Speedway that has a lot of events. As much as he says he wants to sell it, I think he's a little reluctant to deep down inside.
I'd have it done (planning to), but it's so common here, that it's not news. If I lived in a small town, I'd have to move out!!! I wouldn't want to have the story done on me!
The last one sounds like a full time job. Do you get to use a whip and chair? (insert bear photo, now)
"When you here a bell
a baby website
gets its own URL"
Ha ha ha ha
Hattend...
Badkitty IS the Bear Picture!!!
LOL!!!
Heavens no!
My ex- a**hole.
You can always take a look at my FR Profile!
Long .... but VERY funny!
From Sports Illustrated, by Rick Reilly
On a Wing and a Prayer
Now this message for America's most famous athletes: Someday you may be
invited to fly in the backseat of one of your country's most powerful
fighter jets - Many of you already have-John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger
Woods, to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with
the greatest sincerity.... Move to Guam. Change your name. Fake your own
death. Whatever you do, do not go. I know. The U.S. Navy invited me to try
it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast!
I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of
Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you’re thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like,
triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair,
finger-crippling handshake-the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic
alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way.
Fast.
Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice
of NASA missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting...." Remember?)Chip
would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would
wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, "We
have a liftoff." Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously
powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not
unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the
night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat
the next morning. "Bananas," he said. "For the potassium?" I asked. "No,"
Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up as they do going
down."
The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name
sewn over the left breast. (No call sign-like Crash or Sticky or
Leadfoot-but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my
arm, as Biff had instructed. A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety
briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed,
would "egress" me out of the plane at such a velocity that I would be
immediately knocked unconscious. Just as I was thinking about aborting the
flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a
thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph.
We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14. Those 20 minutes
were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like
being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell - only without rails.
We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose
and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per
minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us. We broke the speed of
sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree
turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if
6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating
life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie. And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the
pizza from the night before. And the lunch before that. I egressed a box
of Milk Duds from the sixth grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because
of the G's, I was egressing stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I
went through not one airsick bag, but two. Biff said I passed out. Twice.
I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a
banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like
a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the
first person in history to throw down.
I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman
making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like
Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there
again for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and
for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.
A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and
the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a
patch for my flight suit.
What is it? I asked.
"Two Bags."
Whew! Ok...mine lives in Reno...
Aw....LOL!
Speaking of racing, my father got my mother a used white '02 Mustang about 6 months ago. When she went in to get some things checked out (She had to find out what Catalytic converters she needed, as hers wouldn't pass the emission test), she found out whoever had it before her had modded it for street racing! She's very proud of this, apparently.
I just cannot imagine something that personal being covered in a newspaper article. It takes all kinds, I suppose....
LOL...I have an 02 Mustang...too bad mine isn't modded. I better get out my Summit Racing magazine!
Since then I gained about 50 pounds (another baby and thyroid) So I am going to be working my way down for bikini season so that I don't make anyone prefer men in speedos...
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