JJ Johnson

Where it says Records on the main menu.

Traffic is running smoothly along the Ambassador Bridge. It's not very busy at 9 PM - rush hour was three hours ago - but there are still a few cars crossing between Windsor, Ontario and Detroit, Michigan. One of the cars crossing into the States, a black Hummer H2 that assaults anyone driving close to it with the death metal blaring from within, is notable for two things; one, it's extraordinarily poor gas mileage, and two, the passengers it carries. "Can we listen to something else?" whines Landon Maddix, laying across the backseat with his fingers plugged in his ears, struggling to be heard over the abrasive groove riffs and shrieking vocals of Strapping Young Lad's "Shitstorm." Jay Hawke, in the passenger's seat, nods in agreement, the bounds of his maturity stretching like a pilates master in order to keep from complaining further. The driver, one JJ Johnson, shakes his head no, staring out over Lake Michigan - what he can see of it in the darkness - as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, mouthing the words. This time last year, he could sing along, but his throat can't take the strain required to alter his voice so drastically. The Canadian reaches down near the gearshift and grabs a bottle of water, taking his hands off the wheel only momentarily to rip the cap off and take a swig. "When you're driving, you can listen to what you want," says Johnson, firmly. Maddix sighs. "Well, can I drive?" inquires Maddix, hoping that Johnson has grown weary of his transportation duties. "I'll fight you for it," responds Johnson. Jay smirks despite himself, and Landon sighs again before cramming his fingers back in his ears. He doesn't want the station changed THAT badly. Suddenly, the cacophony that is Devin Townsend's shrill screeching is interrupted by something that plays such a sharp contrast that Jay jumps - a MIDI version of Frank Zappa's "Dirty Love". Landon heaves another sigh, this one of relief, as Johnson reaches out and adjusts the volume to allow himself to hear, then whips out his cell phone before taking a quick glance at the caller ID. PETERS Johnson pours some more water into his mouth before flipping the phone open and bringing it up to his ear. "Speak," commands the Canadian. From the other line comes a rush of static, almost like somebody sighing into the phone - both Johnson's musical tastes and phone manners have that effect on people. "Johnson. Peters," barks the SWF's head honcho, fighting monoenumonical sentence with monoenumonical sentence, "got you booked for Lockdown." "Damn straight you do, Peters," snaps Johnson, still bitter from being left off of the Toronto card some time back, "and it better be a title defense. I'm not going to sit on this belt." Johnson glances at Hawke in the passenger's seat. "Like some people." "Well, you're in luck then," comes the Eminem-lookalike's voice from a phone tower between Detroit and Cleveland, "because it is." Johnson smiles. "Good," he says, relaxing slightly, "against whom?" "Zyon." *SCREEEEEECHH!!!* *WHAM!* "OW, SHIT!" "What was that?" asks Peters as Johnson slams on the brakes of the gas-guzzler, the seatbeltless Maddix rocketing into the seats in front of him before falling to the floor and sitting up, looking slightly disheveled. "Nothing," says Johnson, a thoughtful look in his eyes, before muttering "bastard" under his breath. With that, the Ultimate Fighter slams the phone shut, stuffing it in his pocket before reaching down and unbuckling his seatbelt as Jay gives him a funny look. "What're you doing?" questions the Dean of Professional Wrestling as Johnson opens the door before looking back at him. "Scoot over here and drive," says Johnson as Landon perks up, his eyes wide with anticipation, "I've got DVDs to study." Shrugging, Jay moves over into the driver's seat as Johnson walks around the car, people passing by on the bridge giving him funny looks as he gets in the passenger's seat, pulling his portable DVD player out of the glove compartment, along with a few labeled "ZYON SEPTEMBER," "ZYON NOVEMBER," and "ZYON DECEMBER." "Oh, and one last thing," smirks the Canadian as he flips the DVD player open. "I call radio."

For the record, Bruce, you aren't allowed either. I'm certain that's what Spike meant to say.

So, what does everybody's record online look like? I'm a lowly 16-24.

My challenge still stands, Downhome.

Gorgeous George, man. The ORIGINAL gimmick.

More accurately, constant drifts that move you from one side of the track to the other. Like a snake.

Argh, why is it so damn hard to find people online? Takes forever, it seems, and I've got a fast connection. We should race, Downhome.

I despise snaking. I try it, if I'm really far behind, but I'm so bad at it that it doesn't have much effect. It's a legitimate tactic, and good for the people who can do it, but I don't like it.

Yeah, you're going to have to go with nintendo.com for that, Hoff.

Out of at least 30 people I've raced on Mario Kart DS, two have known the Delfino Square shortcut. That's become my trump course because of it.

So, who would be interested in some sort of TSM Mario Kart league? Between Thoth, Ced, claydude, Smues, myself, Downhome, Magnifico, and one other person (maybe Hoff or Matt Young), we could have quite the league. I was thinking something along the lines of SMARKCAR~! for the name, but don't name your competitions before they start. Or however that cliche goes.

You'll wrestle that refrigerator, and you'll make it look like a million bucks while you're at it. Any less than ***1/2, and we'll be having a discussion.

I find the lack of "Shake That Laffy Taffy" in this thread disturbing. For crying out loud, the beat sounds like something out of an NES puzzle game, and that's the best part of the song.

I am, in fact, an Insider, and have been digging through the old boards before. Found nothing related to title histories, but that may partially be the fault of my not looking. Also, Ben Hardy's British and Funyon's friggin' huge.

Heh. Lord David. I remember him. Happy birthday, you capitalist X-Net dog.

You know it says "Kaybafe" in your sig, right? Not trying to be abrasive, just letting you know.

At the time, Toxxic. And because nobody put it there.

Mole

180450 640455 Anyone found some sort of emblem template? Or emblem site? I always sucked at the one on Animal Crossing. EDIT: Found one. This site, while a bit glitchy with complicated stuff, is still really good. You have to ignore how it insists on changing blacks and whites to pink, green, etc. EDIT 2, Electric Boogaloo: I've added Ced, Thoth, claydude and Downhome. So, basically, everyone who posted their friend code so far.

Ouch.

So did Men Without Hats. One good song means nothing.

...so, you're saying that the Angel's Wings is Daniels' only redeeming quality?

I spend the better part of an hour trying, by any means necessary, to get back in here, and there's one person. ONE. Talk about your wasted effort.

For the last time, nobody's going to name an animal after you. lolz But then what would you call it? Frigid Penguin? Failed Penguin? Penguin Mascot? Penguin Soul? I'm confused. Penguin Soul. The other three are taken by emperor penguins, kiwi birds, and Youngstown State respectively.