June 10, 2008

• A few nights ago, while I was driving home on the freeway, I became involved in a car race. I don’t know how or why this happened, since I was too busy trying to decide what I wanted to get from McDonald’s for dinner (choosing between a Filet-o-Fish and a Big Mac: the ultimate test). However, I guess my very dirty, 13-year-old Honda Civic appeared extremely threatening to the driver of the shiny, blue ricified car that was in the next lane. And thus, he stepped on his gas and sped by—announcing his victory to all via the fart-knocking noises coming from his upgraded exhaust pipe.
  
  You know that is probably the extent of his racing career, i.e., speeding past people who don’t give a rat’s ass that he’s trying to reenact scenes from “The Fast and the Furious." Although he outfitted his car with expensive parts to make him a more formidable racer, he’ll never actually race his car because of those expensive parts. As in, he won’t make use of any of his upgrades for fear of causing damage and depreciation to them. That makes about as much sense as hiring a ninja to beat up people in a super stealthy and cool fashion, but not having him do it because you don't want his outfit to get messed up. So instead you have him following you around school and the mall, occasionally throwing a shuriken when people are looking.

  Therefore, I have to ask: what the hell was the point of doing all that sh*t to your car in the first place? Please, explain it to me because right now I just think it’s extremely asinine and totally poser to put in all that money for this:

  

  What the f*ck is this hideous piece of crap?
  
  

  Admittedly, I don’t understand the whole rice burner/rice rocket culture. I didn’t even know what those terms meant when I first heard them. I thought people were talking about cheap rice cookers (like the one I bought in college...damn you, Martin Yan! I trusted you!) and rocket-fuel made from rice. Of course, I later learned that this was ricification jargon when I started working at Tapioca Express, which—like all milk tea places—was a hub for the Asian kids and their fugly-ass, modified cars.
  
  Therefore, it is quite possible that within the ricified community it is actually a sign of awesomeness to have to lumber over speed bumps because your body kit is only an inch off the ground—and still end up scraping the bottom even though you’re going at 0.5 miles an hour. And perhaps you really do need that wing to temper the wind whenever you drive circles through parking lots and pretend to be looking for a space. Plus, how pointless would it be to leave your hood open for no reason if you didn’t have cool import parts to show off? You’d just look like someone who had legitimate engine troubles, and not a badass who needs to justify having all those Japanese auto parts put into a car he drives to the supermarket.

  • 4:44 pm
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