Hot Stepper

Here come the hot stepper, murderer
I’m the lyrical gangster, murderer
Pick up the crew in-a de area, murderer
Still love you like that

Sorry, but when I think of a small group of middle-aged white guys running around downtown Matthews with blinkie lights and headlamps, this type of lyrical hardness pops right to the top.

Thang:

4 dudes on a mission, cover some ground without dropping the Q or getting run over. Mission Accomplished.

Cruise the Matthews back alleys through the secret trail near the Building Supply that spits you out at a sketchy Hwy51 crossing with no stoplight. Roll that dice and hit the Crews Road business park for some exercisin’ in the Charlotte Eagles parking lot. Next, head over to Crestdale Middle for a giant burpee starfish. After this, head back down to the Jekyll and Hyde for some suicides and merkins. Finishing Blow, AYG wind sprints back at Matthews Elementary. I’m sure that there was more, but nobody really cares about this stuff anyway. I think it was 5 miles or so.

Skin:

Nothing like jamming some Kidz Bop to get your head right for a big Q. If you like to hear songs that you already hate taken to the next level, I suggest you give it a whirl.

Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, and Starship are a musical Bermuda triangle with a Venn Diagram on top. I couldn’t find the Kidz Bop version of any of their songs this morning, so I went with the Hot Stepper in my opening monologue, but I’m still searching. I think this is where I got the inspiration for the Giant Starfish, but it’s hard to really pinpoint this complex kind of emotion.

So we’re coming back to home base and I get this big loogie stuck in my throat. Seriously, I almost harfed right on the sidewalk. I figured that some wind sprints would either dislodge it, or my head, and decided to give it a whirl. It was an interesting call, but it did set us up to check out the P51 crew who were also out in the back. Turns out, they were taking turns beating Slim Fast with a bar of soap in a sock for telling them that the BRR was a “nice little jog in the mountains”. I think the gig is up. He’s playing chess while we play checkers out here though, so I’m probably way off base.

Those sprints got me fired up all right. It was like when the Axl blows the whistle in Paradise City and you are at the skating rink. You’re out of quarters for Street Fighter, so it’s go time on the hardwoods. Panama Jack has been giving you the business and it’s time to show everybody that you can still dominate, even with the orange rental skates. At least, that’s how I felt at the moment.

As a side note, just because they offer corn dogs as a side item at Cook Out doesn’t mean that it’s a good call. I had some trouble keeping up with Tony Stark and the two kids this morning and I fully attribute it to this. They dropped me like Brian Dunkleman on the 2nd season of American Idol. BTW, Clay > Ruben. Don’t @ me.

I will note that there was a failed attempt at naming one of the P51 FNGs as “VanillaNutTaps”. Cruller was the substitute. Maybe VNT would have been a better call. It came from this Bushwood documentary video.

Gotta roll. Working on my TJ Hooker costume for Scarowinds. Come and check it out.

P.S. Somehow, I’m on Q for Kevlar tomorrow. If you made it this far, you need to come on out and see Part 2 in person.

– HH