We here at X|R have friends in low places, and the story behind this one all started about two decades ago with an innocent suggestion that to some, may just seem disturbing. I’m not saying we were disturbed by it, but in any context and given the situation, disturbing makes us giggle.
We were setting up for a day of training. We had a full class and had unloaded everything we needed on a range we had booked at an undisclosed location. The instructor cadre had to check in at range control, so we walked about a quarter mile on the main road to check in. On our way back, one of the guys who trained with us regularly was driving toward the range, sees us, and sharply pulls to a sliding stop in a white contractor van no less than 10 feet in front of us. Let’s call him CM.
CM is an absolute ninja who looks like a Visigoth and who lost an eye in [REDACTED] so he wore an eyepatch at that point (he has since been fitted for prosthetic eye which matches quite nicely). But imagine a white van pulling over, a viking-looking mf with an eyepatch jumps out, slams the side sliding door back, and looking at multiple rolls of black plastic sheeting and 5 gallons of generic bleach bottles on the floor of the van, smiles and yells, “GET IN THE VAN.” RJ and I looked at each other and we just started to giggle. It has been in our lexicon ever since.
When in doubt, get in the van. ~X|R
It started with my then pre-teen daughter, teaching her to change the oil on “her” BMW M3 track car a few years ago. Her observation of, “That’s gross,” was met with the description of used motor oil being the, “Forbidden Gravy.” From there, she applied the same logic and adjective to car parts, her first being during a brake service on same M3. “Forbidden Pizza” was born when she saw the new rotors in their boxes.
~X|R