Word: drivered
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...writer-director Jody Hill two cheers for asking: What if we did a workplace comedy, and the focus of our attention and sympathy were on a fellow - played by Rogen, everyone's favorite jovial slob - who is this close to the simmering psycho Robert De Niro played in Taxi Driver? The gun love, the quiet surliness, the loner status, the head whisperings, the mistaken fashioning of other people's motives into paranoid scenarios - all echo the violent cabbie in Martin Scorsese's movie, whose script was inspired by the diary of Arthur Bremer, the would-be assassin of Governor George...
...Everyone came running. A group of five women - our saviors - pulled their truck over just past our crash. A few of them hoisted our bike into the truck bed, tied it down and piled in after it. Keirn and I climbed into the cab with the driver, who turned out to be the proprietress of one of the nicer guesthouses in town, Koh Kong Guest House (Street 1, Koh Kong; +855-16-654-171); she took us to a pharmacy before dropping us off at our hotel...
...pried ourselves off the beach for one day, paying a tuk-tuk driver $30 (probably too much) for a 6-hr. tour of town. If you like animals, ask someone to take you to the Buddhist monastery, where the legions of wild monkeys will eat out of your hand. And definitely set aside an hour to visit Boom Boom Room (Serendipity Beach Road; +855-12-219-657), where you can load up your iPod or MP3 player with supercheap music...
...unexpected lesson in the power of the U.S. dollar during a visit to Tashkent, the dreary capital of Uzbekistan, several years back. While heading into town from the airport, my babbling taxi driver kept one hand (barely) on the steering wheel while his other shoved a stack of local currency, the som, into my face. He insistently urged me to trade the money for dollars. After checking in at the grim Hotel Uzbekistan, a nattily clad porter showed me and my wife to a room, fiddled with a broken TV set, and then reached into his jacket pockets for large...
...need to find an appropriately high-minded approach to life's exit ramp. In this case, I mean the high-minded part literally. And so, a deal: give us drugs, after a certain age - say, 80 - all drugs, any drugs we want. In return, we will give you our driver's licenses. (I mean, can you imagine how terrifying a nation of decrepit, solipsistic 90-year-old boomers behind the wheel would be?) We'll let you proceed with your lives - much of which will be spent paying for our retirement, in any case - without having to hear us complain...