Model Jessica Plyler…LIVE on the Bad Side!


April 22nd, 2011

9PM

Bad Side…LIVE

Join Tyler as he welcomes in to the C.I.C, model Jessica Plyler!  Jessica will be in to talk about her modeling career, what she aspires to do in the future and her recent participation in the Hooters Bikini Contest.  Questions from the fans are welcome.  Just call 1-661-349-9255.  Live, Friday night (April 22nd) and only on http://www.talkradiox.com.

I Found My Thrill On Hoover Hill


“Should I ask what Hoover Hills is?” Rita asked.

“And where the or what the… is Hoover Hill?” Martha soon posed there after.

Ah yes. It’s always a blast getting back in touch with old friends. Old college acquaintances or at least three chicks I stalked around Winooski back in the college days when stalking was cool. And yes, I was put up to that even though the other party will deny it to her grave.

::toothy grin::

So in a recent comment discussion in a  Group on Facebook, the topic of Hoover Hill came up. Just what is Hoover Hill? Well, lets start with this;

Hoover Street (marked with the balloon with the letter A) is a side street that sits off Shelburne Road in Burlington, Vermont. As you can see by the picture above, it’s a street that runs through a small neighborhood. What you can’t see is that it’s a slow incline running west to east. Now, please note the arrows. The yellow arrow, pointing at a bush in the picture, is to represent where the hill of Hoover Street crests and then immediately drops off and takes a sharp right hand turn. The red arrows are basically showing the cliff face that is off in the distance. These are important because when you are doing 40 miles an hour up the hill and then crest it, all you can see is the cliff face staring down at you. Once over the crest of the hill you have to take a hard right or run into these huge cement blocks that line the road, preventing idiots doing 40 miles an hour from plunging into a natural pit created by mother nature. It should also be noted that in 1985, when Hoover Street was first discovered, the trees between the two arrows, weren’t there.

The Discovery

As stated earlier, it was fall of 1985 when Hoover Street was discovered. Not far from the corner of Hoover Street and Shelburne Road is another corner that hosts a Dunkin Donuts. I think it’s still there. At any rate, there was one day this writer was conned into going to DD’s for some coffee and Munchkins since he didn’t have class for a couple of hours and ended up flying by the corner that held the Dunkin Donuts. A left hand turn later and history was made. In my rush to just get turned around in my 1972 Chevy Nova I put the pedal to the metal (this was an actual true statement with this 1970’s muscle car) and headed up the incline of Hoover Street. I hit the top, sailed over, went wide eyed, screamed a silent scream and shit my pants.

Quick thinking had me jerking the steering wheel to the right to make the turn and avoid the home made car crushing machine known as 3X3 cement blocks. Brakes were hit and gravel flew from under the tires. The car came to a stop, the muffler rumbling a low growl as the car idled and my heart pumped four times faster than it should have been. Knuckles were white as it gripped the cheap, $8 steering wheel cover. It was quiet for a moment as the reality of what happen sank in.

“That…was fuckin AWESOME!” I exalted.

The Share

It was a week later that I finally decided to share this little ‘better than sex’ secret. I had experienced the Hill three more times during the week, one of those times, once the light of day had settled below the horizon. It got better each time. Two hours later I’m sitting in Freeman Hall waiting for my first victim to share this with. Larry walked in and I was out of my chair before the door could shut.

“We’re going to Dunkin Donuts! Lets go!” I said.

“You don’t drink coffee!” Larry replied as he blindly followed me anyway.

“But I eat donuts.” I said, barely containing my excitement.

A few minutes later we are zooming past the Dunkin Donuts.

“Uhhh….you just drove right past it.” Larry noted.

“Damnit!” I offered up my best acting job. “Oh well, I’ll take the next left and spin around.” I added.

The Nova was ready too. I could feel her hum as we took the left and started up the hill. I was focused on the upcoming thrill but could sense Larry grabbing onto the dash as we picked up speed instead of slowing down.

“What are you doing?” Larry posed with a sudden, nervous urgency.

“You’ll see.” I quipped back.

As we neared the top of the Hill Larry looked over at me, wide eyed. I caught his look out of the corner of my eye and laughed as we hit the crest and flew over the top. Larry let out a bellow and I followed with one of my own, if only to add to his terror. When I cranked the wheel and stamped on the brakes, I looked over at Larry, the car shaking in it’s own excitement. Larry was looking at me like I was the Devil, laughing manically at his expense. For a moment, I was. Breathing heavy and holding the dash like it was a life preserver from the Titanic, Larry finally sat back, a grin on his face.

“That…was fuckin AWESOME!”

The Girl Stories

Details from that day forward are a little foggy only because Hoover Hill became an addiction, much like crack to a dope fiend. Like fresh baked cookies to a fat kid. Like latex to a dominatrix. Like KFC to Mark Halburn. Like Jack & Gingers to Nancy. Like, well, you get the picture. I couldn’t shake the thrill of the Hill. I remember one day taking Liz and Jo over the Hill. I think Jo punched me in the arm hard enough to leave a mark and Liz had an asthma attack. Or maybe it was Cindy that had the asthma attack when I took her over. Maybe it was both. I don’t recall. But there were many more.

Then there was the time I decided to put the old adage of violence (or thrills) turns a woman on. I was dating a gal named Kelly when I took her and her friend over The Hill one night without telling them anything. It was a sneak attack and a last minute decision after pizza one night on Shelburne Road. A slow grin crept over my face as I took a right onto Hoover Street under the guise of looking for a friends house “since we were there.” The Nova roared up the hill and actually caught air (to this day I believe we did, even though it was improbable) before coming to a 90 degree power skid and stop. I sat there giggling as Linda (name has been changed to protect the guilty) poked her head up from the back seat and asked;

“I better see white puffy clouds and hear harp music so I know I am in Heaven, because I just died.” She laughed nervously.

Kelly sat in the semi darkness listening to me laugh. I could swear she had a small grin on her face as she rubbed her legs together. That was before she slapped me across the face and called me a bastard.

Heh.

Long story short, I did prove that chicks get all worked up over thrills (and violence, as evidenced to the hand print on my cheek) because after dropping Kelly off at home due to curfew, I got a kiss from her that straightened my tongue, shoelaces and other things that shall go unmentioned. But it was the back seat romp with Linda (hence the guilty name change) that proved the theory correct.

Epilogue

It’s been nearly 25 years since I took another person over Hoover Hill. Oh, yes, I have been over a few times since the good ole college days but the thrill isn’t what it used to be. Trees have grown up, blocking the view of the cliff face, which was the highlight of the cresting of the hill. The cement blocks are gone and so is that element of crushing danger. Plus, when you do something hundreds of times, you become a pro at it and it becomes mundane. But, for a brief few months between 1985 and 1987, Hoover Street and the Thrill of the Hill was the best thing ever.

Life Is Just A Fantasy


“Hi there.  My Name is Tyler. “

Crowd: Hi Tyler.

“And I have an addiction.”

::crowd murmurs::

“It all started when I got my first table top baseball game when I was 11 years old.  I’ve been addicted to fantasy sports ever since.  Like a mouse to cheese, like a cat to nip, like a deer to headlights. “

::more crowd murmurs::

That, my fine friends, would be the scene had there been some sort of AA like support group for fantasy sports players.  I know what you will say;

“But Tyler, there are support groups for…”

Yeah? Whatever, I don’t care.  I am going to choose to ignore that you just started your sentence there and will allow you to live just long enough to finish reading this post.

Yes.  I am a hardened fantasy sports player.  I got my start with the aforementioned table top baseball game called LongBall when I was indeed eleven years old.  You know, fantasy sports has been around much longer than you would think.  Just not in the form you are most common to see in this Internet age.  It started way back a long time ago when the first kid put a spinner on a piece of cardboard with 1B, 2B, 3B, HR, Fly Out, Pop Out and Grounder marked up in a pie chart.  Imaginations took over and kids could find themselves shagging balls with “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, hitting the game winning dinger off of Tom Seaver or serving some heat to Babe Ruth.

Eventually, games came along like LongBall or Sports Illustrated Football (eventually becoming known as PayDirt) where that spinner and felt tip marker were replaced by charts, boards, dice and pads of score sheets.  However, the imagination remained.  Now you were the coach or even player coach of these stars of the diamond or gridiron (or court or ice rink for your lesser know sport aficionados) that you could control.  The thrill of trading Ted Williams to a team other than the Redsox was in your hands.

Eventually, those childhood games gave way to watching the real ballplayers and keeping their stats on your own, only now, instead of Jeff Bagwell hitting clean up for the Houston Astros, he was knocking longballs in the four spot for a team know as Dangerous Intentions, a perennial 5th placer in the North Country Fantasy Baseball League.  I’m still in that league too, by the way.  Nearly 20 years now.

Now?  Now we have the Internet.  Gone are the days of scouring Sport Weekly for the stats at the back of the paper and the hours going through box scores.  Now we have the Internet keeping track of all the players we have amassed for our fantasy teams.  Gone are all those things that made the game fun and exciting to some or cumbersome and monotonous to others.  What remains though?  Imagination.  Only imagination can put together a team of Peyton Manning, Jamaal Charles, Jason Witten, Ochocinco and a few others to form the Black River Pirates.  A team that would go on to win the Sorry Honey It’s That Season Fantasy Football League in 2010.

::takes a bow and pats his own back::

That’s right, I won the 2010 Championship of the S.H.I.T.S. FFL.  I was also 1-2 in the USSCF NASCAR Racing League of 2010.  I was third in the NCFBL (the real and only money league) as well as winning the March Madness Tourney 3 our of the last 5.  Yeah, I am hopelessly addicted.  This didn’t even mention the leagues I was in where I was unsuccessful;

::coughsTRXFanatsyFootballcoughs::

Congratulations on that win, Stevo.

So, you may ask what this was all about. What is the point other than to pat myself on the back and gloat in the faces of my vanquished foes?  Well, that’s it really?  We fantasy sports players do that.  Those who are good at fantasy sports are good because they know sports, because they play to win, and because they are champions.  They don’t run down the entire 90 seconds during their picks.  They don’t get rattled when someone scoops their guy.  They talk sh*t and drink during the draft because they are better than you. Then they rub it in when they win.

However, if you must have another point to this post, other than my shit eating grin I am flashing because I WON at a fantasy sports league, I’ll give you this.  My Fantasy Addiction gone overboard.  Come join me, won’t you?  If you don’t like that, then check out my fantasy opponents in next years Fantasy Football Fantasy League and forget I am going to beat the crap out of you.

 

Halburns’ Work Hours?!


Found this when I checked out that abandoned building Mark Halburn supposedly has his “business” located at.

10-2.  Fridays.  I bet that is what is on all his resume’s. “Available 10-2 on Fridays.  Otherwise, I am running a successful business!”

What a maroon.

Wait.  Maybe 10-2 is the hours he has set aside to not be a douche bag?

::buzzer::

Yeah, I know.  What was I thinking.

Sasha Gray: The Girlfriend Experience


Being a fan of dirty talking porn stars (Belladonna, Ava Devine, Audry Hollander, Sasha Gray, Daisy Marie) I decided to check out The Girlfriend Experience with Sasha Gray. It was late on a Saturday night (actually, Sunday morning) but a bout of insomnia prompted the bleary eyed time of day viewing.

Sasha plays Chelsea in a The Girlfriend Experience. A drama set in the days leading up to the 2008 Presidential election, and centered on a high-end Manhattan call girl meeting the challenges of her boyfriend, her clients, and her work.

It’s an interesting piece of work for Gray who is one of the more popular porn stars out there that have done a decent job of crossing over to semi main stream film.

Gray is quite active in her career and has certainly carved a niche. A popular search on Internet clips, hundreds of movies, an AVN winner just about every year she has been in the business, Sasha represents herself through her own company, LA Factory Girls.

The movie centers around Chelsea/Christine, a high priced call girl that gives you more than just an hours worth of her time. She will give you the entire girlfriend experience. The film doesn’t move fast and it jumps around while telling the story in bits (reminded me how The Limey unfolded) but as it moves along you can see how her life unfolds on her way to making several big decisions. At the start she is very confident, has a boyfriend, job opportunities, is working on a web site and has an opportunity to go away for an extended week end with a client she is hitting it off with. A rule that she and her boyfriend agree’d she would not break. By the end, she’s been black listed by the Internet web site guy because she rebuffed his advances, she has broken with her boyfriend (who’s kind of a prick to begin with) after an argument and she decides to spend that week end with her client…and he basically no shows, leaving her to return to NY alone.

I liked the film. As slow as it seemed, it did keep my interest and despite the panning Sasha Gray gets for flat and emotionless acting (Rotten Tomato reviewers are somewhat pointed of nose and pretentious), I thought she nailed the character dead on. Chelsea is a flat and emotionless person in my opinion. She has to be considering her own rules of being a $2000 a night call girl that offers a better package. It doesn’t hurt that Sasha Gray has a hell of a body, a potty mouth in bed and oozes sex appeal naturally. Fan of her or not, Sasha Gray would be one hell of a Girlfriend Experience.

Bad Side…LIVE! (02/01/10)


Tonight on The Bad Side…LIVE! Is it two thousand ten or twenty ten? Tyler gives an Overlord decree on how you should state this year. Also, Tyler talks Cougars, looks at some bullshit in the news, and answers some commentary on the terrorists trials. Kristy reads One Line Letters and the Angry Teddy Bear is back in the studio!

Are you a cougar hunter?