As my feet and body begin to ache less, I quietly reminisce my fourth experience at Dragon*con this past weekend. According to a staff member, I am now considered a veteran. I suppose I am proud of my status but I still have trouble finding my way around hotels and trying to get to places. But I am very astute in the art of forming lines to see famous people. Germanically so.
This experience was fun and worth the money but paled in comparison to our experience last year. Dragon*con 2008 will forever hold a special place in my heart as my first 4-day Con and as the catalyst of my relationship with Graham. I'm glad that we will have a Labor Day tradition that will always prove better than cook-outs and watching sports. Not that we'd do that regardless.
The best part of the entire weekend was meeting Terry Gilliam. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera and realized it on the way there, so I am still waiting for our photos. Beforehand, I remembered that my mother's favorite movie is Brazil, and I was pet sitting for my parents Friday through Saturday, thus I decided to open up her Criterion Collection copy of the movie (on laserdisc- does anyone else remember those?) and retrieved the insert so I could get it signed. And I did, along with a promo photo for Gilliam's new movie The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. Gilliam was very nice, funny, and he seemed pretty tired. I was glad we got to meet him
Other than that amazing highlight, there is not much to tell. I saw people I knew, I bought a few trinkets, I got some free swag, and I ended up not smelling too rank after the whole ordeal. We have endeavored for next con to obtain a hotel room and make epic sandwiches so we can avoid lines and blowing money on food. Graham and I are also planning costumes because he has now agreed to dress up. However, for fear of him backing out and for fear of jinxing it, I'm not saying what we will be:)
We bought a ton of comics on Monday and most were read today. Graham has also accused me of cleaning the apartment, doing the laundry, and washing the dishes just to get out of doing homework....which is partially true. So I will go do that. Until next time! Tchao!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
I'll tell you how I spent my summer vacation- abandoning my blog! I didn't really write at all this summer; I mostly wrote lists and amusing comments. But now to break me of that habit.
This summer, I dreamed the impossible dream. With the ultimate decision of Graham and the accruing of funds from various happenstances, we have now officially moved out of Cartersville. That's right, kiddies! That brainwashed, backwards, medieval asshole of America I spent ten months living in that I never will get back is free and clear of two of its most intelligent inhabitants. Rood giddance to rad bubbish.
We house-sat for my parents for two weeks whilst oggling over Craigslist and various neighborhoods in search of new residence. We were focused on houses but we ultimately decided on a small studio we found very close to the Marietta Square. And, as a bonus factor, we now live about 18 miles round trip from my job.
It's nice having our own place. I worry about our bills because I fear not paying them on time. But then again, I really see no reason why they wouldn't be paid by a deadline. We have a kitty, Artemis (or Arty), and she's absolutely adorable. We can have people over, I can cook, we are close to everything. It's pretty damned wonderful.
I don't really feel like blogging anymore today. I have told these anecdotes so much that they seem overly rehearsed to me.
This summer, I dreamed the impossible dream. With the ultimate decision of Graham and the accruing of funds from various happenstances, we have now officially moved out of Cartersville. That's right, kiddies! That brainwashed, backwards, medieval asshole of America I spent ten months living in that I never will get back is free and clear of two of its most intelligent inhabitants. Rood giddance to rad bubbish.
We house-sat for my parents for two weeks whilst oggling over Craigslist and various neighborhoods in search of new residence. We were focused on houses but we ultimately decided on a small studio we found very close to the Marietta Square. And, as a bonus factor, we now live about 18 miles round trip from my job.
It's nice having our own place. I worry about our bills because I fear not paying them on time. But then again, I really see no reason why they wouldn't be paid by a deadline. We have a kitty, Artemis (or Arty), and she's absolutely adorable. We can have people over, I can cook, we are close to everything. It's pretty damned wonderful.
I don't really feel like blogging anymore today. I have told these anecdotes so much that they seem overly rehearsed to me.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Forget It, Lee. It's Cartersville.
I decided to walk around Main Street in Cartersville today while waiting to pick Graham up from work to see Up! It was a fairly nice day, really sunny with puffy white clouds and a little bit of a breeze and as I parked Bruno, I decided that today would be a perfect day for a chocolate croissant and a cup of strong coffee.
I had parked by Agan's Bakery, an old brick shop along the old town strip close to the building labeled "Butcher Shop." I was excited because along with the charm and quaintness of old Cartersville (one of its only saving graces), it actually had an operational bakery. I had never been but I had seen its 1970s pale orange lettering every time I drove through. I walked in the door, not quite sure if they were open.
I entered to find there were no chairs or tables. Three glass display cases bordered the foyee and there were no menus or prices listed anywhere. There was a small handful of cakes displayed, a few breakfast pastries, and a small smattering of pies on the thin top shelf to my right. And despite my optimism, things looked dismal.
I searched for croissants but to no avail. I looked at the girl behind the counter who was rather young and not entirely enthralled with the idea of working in a bakery for the rest of her life. Her somewhat cheerful smile could not completely disguise her lack of legitimate enthusiasm. Yet she was the only one who could reveal to me where the tasty, buttery, flakey, sweet French pastries were horded. With a slight grin she asked me how she could be of assistance and I asked if they had any croissants.
She apologized first which could have lead to many other following statements like:
"I'm sorry, but we ran out! There will be some tomorrow!"
"I'm sorry, but they all were scorched because our baker is German!"
"I'm sorry, but the only one we have is plastic."
But no. She just flat-out told me that they didn't have any. I tried to mask my horror and disbelief with a dash of self-deprecation and endeavored to search for something else. I gazed through the abysmally small selection of much inferior pastries, staring at each one hoping to turn them into chocolate croissants with my eyes.
I decided to choose the apple bread that looked like a muffin but was, in fact, not. I figured it would be inexpensive but I still wasn't impressed with the lack of price display. I asked for a cup of coffee and did not see her prepare it nor even did she bestow me a small vessel for it. The total for my breakfast was $2.12, which pleased me seeing as I received a heaping pile of disappointment for free just by walking through the door. I gave a smile and thanks and then miraculously found where I could get my coffee. Two pump carafes were sitting on a small table next to an automated cappuccino machine, like the kind you get your quasi-coffee from at the waiting room of the ER. The Styrofoam cups were directly behind the carafes with the equally sorry looking lids. I saw a canister of powdered non-dairy creamer before I saw the liquid creamer cups underneath.
The best I can say is that at least the coffee was hot.
I retreated to the bench outside the building next door and removed said apple bread from the little white paper bag. I noticed the sugary glaze that covered most of the pastry and considered it rather unnecessary. Tearing off a warm piece and popping it into my mouth, I was greeted with a soft chewy fresh-baked texture, the sweetness of sugar, and the subtle savory kick of cinnamon. My next bite had a baked apple in it, syrupy and sugary. The bread was not as good as I had hoped for ( I had not anticipated much but I was still hopeful) but it was not entirely disappointing.
My visit to Agan's Bakery was a blow to my optimism. I left feeling cheated, aghast, and felt that this particular bakery was a sham. I could not, and still don't, believe that they didn't have croissants. Is that not a bakery staple? They didn't even have eclairs. All in all, this glorified donut shop should suck it up and change their name because it is incredibly misleading.
I had parked by Agan's Bakery, an old brick shop along the old town strip close to the building labeled "Butcher Shop." I was excited because along with the charm and quaintness of old Cartersville (one of its only saving graces), it actually had an operational bakery. I had never been but I had seen its 1970s pale orange lettering every time I drove through. I walked in the door, not quite sure if they were open.
I entered to find there were no chairs or tables. Three glass display cases bordered the foyee and there were no menus or prices listed anywhere. There was a small handful of cakes displayed, a few breakfast pastries, and a small smattering of pies on the thin top shelf to my right. And despite my optimism, things looked dismal.
I searched for croissants but to no avail. I looked at the girl behind the counter who was rather young and not entirely enthralled with the idea of working in a bakery for the rest of her life. Her somewhat cheerful smile could not completely disguise her lack of legitimate enthusiasm. Yet she was the only one who could reveal to me where the tasty, buttery, flakey, sweet French pastries were horded. With a slight grin she asked me how she could be of assistance and I asked if they had any croissants.
She apologized first which could have lead to many other following statements like:
"I'm sorry, but we ran out! There will be some tomorrow!"
"I'm sorry, but they all were scorched because our baker is German!"
"I'm sorry, but the only one we have is plastic."
But no. She just flat-out told me that they didn't have any. I tried to mask my horror and disbelief with a dash of self-deprecation and endeavored to search for something else. I gazed through the abysmally small selection of much inferior pastries, staring at each one hoping to turn them into chocolate croissants with my eyes.
I decided to choose the apple bread that looked like a muffin but was, in fact, not. I figured it would be inexpensive but I still wasn't impressed with the lack of price display. I asked for a cup of coffee and did not see her prepare it nor even did she bestow me a small vessel for it. The total for my breakfast was $2.12, which pleased me seeing as I received a heaping pile of disappointment for free just by walking through the door. I gave a smile and thanks and then miraculously found where I could get my coffee. Two pump carafes were sitting on a small table next to an automated cappuccino machine, like the kind you get your quasi-coffee from at the waiting room of the ER. The Styrofoam cups were directly behind the carafes with the equally sorry looking lids. I saw a canister of powdered non-dairy creamer before I saw the liquid creamer cups underneath.
The best I can say is that at least the coffee was hot.
I retreated to the bench outside the building next door and removed said apple bread from the little white paper bag. I noticed the sugary glaze that covered most of the pastry and considered it rather unnecessary. Tearing off a warm piece and popping it into my mouth, I was greeted with a soft chewy fresh-baked texture, the sweetness of sugar, and the subtle savory kick of cinnamon. My next bite had a baked apple in it, syrupy and sugary. The bread was not as good as I had hoped for ( I had not anticipated much but I was still hopeful) but it was not entirely disappointing.
My visit to Agan's Bakery was a blow to my optimism. I left feeling cheated, aghast, and felt that this particular bakery was a sham. I could not, and still don't, believe that they didn't have croissants. Is that not a bakery staple? They didn't even have eclairs. All in all, this glorified donut shop should suck it up and change their name because it is incredibly misleading.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Month of "Yes, You May"
I feel bad that I have committed adultery against my lovely little blog to have an affair with my moleskine. So I suppose I have to dust off the keyboard with one of those stupid cans of compressed air that they sell at Officemax. As you are fully aware, we are at the tail-end of May. Which is just so weird to think about because I don't remember nearly six months passing by so quickly ever.
Since my last entry, I have completed yet another semester at Kennesaw State University, changed my major twice, and received my first A in a college course. I maintained a B average for the semester which boosted my GPA a wee bit so I'm on track to get the HOPE back. I am now a declared English major, licensed to judge the rhetoric and grammar of others for the greater good of humanity. So mind your Ps and Qs and where you place apostrophes. I have also decided to go with a French minor! There are so many French people that come through my line at work that I get to practice with that I've decided to push myself some more into that department.
I'm still employed at Trader Joe's and have almost been there an entire year, working steadily (11 months on June 1st!). I have come to love my job a little more every single day because I get to be surrounded by food, help people on choosing between two different foods, interact with some of the cutest children on the face of the earth, and make being dorky really cool. My job has helped me grow as a person over the past few months, teaching me to get over myself, teaching me how to describe foods better, and helping me deal with all kinds of different people. I used to complain a lot about living so far away but now I make a conscious effort to not bring it up in a grouchy way because I know that a few of my past coworkers lived around the same area too.
My aforementioned April trip to Athens was an experience. I had never experienced a genuine college town, where everything is so centralized that I saw not even a sliver of the real world. The dorms were small and a little uncomfortable; they had to share a hallway bathroom; you had to have your palm scanned to get in the doorway. I know that I could never deal with that. I like to go out and do things, I enjoy having my own space, I like having a kitchen and not having to go to the dining hall to get food. I like having a real job with benefits and really great pay. But it was interesting to see how everybody interacted within their parameters. Helen took me clubbing which the only aspect I liked was the dress I purchased:
That's me with the napalm orange hair. And since about a week later from that, my hair has been bright green, an accident resulting from me wanting turquoise hair on a whim. My hair is now just blonde because the green faded quickly and is now so fried that it can't hold any color on its own. Go me.
As far as the little things go, life is really great. Graham and I are doing very well despite the fact that even though we live together, we don't get to spend much time together. But he's come up with some plans for future things so I have stuff to look forward to. I have realized that if we move out now, all the money I could be saving to go visit my father, to go to school for another semester, or do anything with will never be saved and will be squandered on a place that isn't worth my money. Plus, if we move closer to my job, our situation will be the same only reversed- Graham would have a farther commute and all kinds of other inconvienences. I know that it will upset my mother to know that I'm not even going to take her advice and move out on my own into a subleted house with people I don't know and try to be closer to work and school. I have a perfectly good home right here where I can help out and not feel pressured and where I can save my money. I just have to come up with a good way to explain to Mom this concept.
I guess I'm finished. I'll more than likely update in July. Cheers!
Since my last entry, I have completed yet another semester at Kennesaw State University, changed my major twice, and received my first A in a college course. I maintained a B average for the semester which boosted my GPA a wee bit so I'm on track to get the HOPE back. I am now a declared English major, licensed to judge the rhetoric and grammar of others for the greater good of humanity. So mind your Ps and Qs and where you place apostrophes. I have also decided to go with a French minor! There are so many French people that come through my line at work that I get to practice with that I've decided to push myself some more into that department.
I'm still employed at Trader Joe's and have almost been there an entire year, working steadily (11 months on June 1st!). I have come to love my job a little more every single day because I get to be surrounded by food, help people on choosing between two different foods, interact with some of the cutest children on the face of the earth, and make being dorky really cool. My job has helped me grow as a person over the past few months, teaching me to get over myself, teaching me how to describe foods better, and helping me deal with all kinds of different people. I used to complain a lot about living so far away but now I make a conscious effort to not bring it up in a grouchy way because I know that a few of my past coworkers lived around the same area too.
My aforementioned April trip to Athens was an experience. I had never experienced a genuine college town, where everything is so centralized that I saw not even a sliver of the real world. The dorms were small and a little uncomfortable; they had to share a hallway bathroom; you had to have your palm scanned to get in the doorway. I know that I could never deal with that. I like to go out and do things, I enjoy having my own space, I like having a kitchen and not having to go to the dining hall to get food. I like having a real job with benefits and really great pay. But it was interesting to see how everybody interacted within their parameters. Helen took me clubbing which the only aspect I liked was the dress I purchased:
That's me with the napalm orange hair. And since about a week later from that, my hair has been bright green, an accident resulting from me wanting turquoise hair on a whim. My hair is now just blonde because the green faded quickly and is now so fried that it can't hold any color on its own. Go me.
As far as the little things go, life is really great. Graham and I are doing very well despite the fact that even though we live together, we don't get to spend much time together. But he's come up with some plans for future things so I have stuff to look forward to. I have realized that if we move out now, all the money I could be saving to go visit my father, to go to school for another semester, or do anything with will never be saved and will be squandered on a place that isn't worth my money. Plus, if we move closer to my job, our situation will be the same only reversed- Graham would have a farther commute and all kinds of other inconvienences. I know that it will upset my mother to know that I'm not even going to take her advice and move out on my own into a subleted house with people I don't know and try to be closer to work and school. I have a perfectly good home right here where I can help out and not feel pressured and where I can save my money. I just have to come up with a good way to explain to Mom this concept.
I guess I'm finished. I'll more than likely update in July. Cheers!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
By The Way Kids: There Is No Such Thing As A Silent R.
So apparently, November, December, and January decided to bound and gag me, pull the wool over my eyes, and have me find out that it's been about four months since I last updated anything about my life. At least via the internet.
So better start showin' up now.
To bring one up to speed since October, I am still living with Graham in Euharlee (to the left of Cartersville if you look at a map), so small there is no post office, in Bartow county where a distinct smell trickles into your olfactory as you cross the county border on 75. Where if the weather is nice, the moon is full, and the sky is clear, we just lay out on the lawn and listen to the meth labs blow up and the donkey haw. This is a little piece of southern gothic entertainment.
Gas prices slowly creep up as the stimulus package plunger attempts to dislodge the wad of economic toilet paper plugging up our country, but still manage to be relatively reasonable. Still have not beat Fallout 3 but I do get the urge to play it every day, just not the time. We have been playing Left 4 Dead, though, and that has given me new reasons to shout monosyllabically.
I got a raise in January and am now making more than I have ever made at any job. I am also planning on making a list of high fiber items for my store and that is just one of the many projects I have adhered myself to. I still absolutely love my job and I am getting more proficient at providing informative service as well as just being a good person.
I'm back in school as well! I am taking Political Science, World Literature, Sociology, and World Civilizations. I am pretty much leading two groups for my classes and have rediscovered my abhorence for relying on anybody else to do work for me. After the "life experience" I have obtained, I've learned that most of these college kids are spoiled brats who got the HOPE and went to Kennesaw because they thought it would be easy, all their courses would be bullshit, somebody actually cares about what they have to say, and that nobody needs to pay attention in class. I really want to pull the bitch card and chew people out, but I suppose I can rely on karma to kick their asses and motivate them.
I am planning to take a mini vacation to Athens at the beginning of April to visit and stay with Helen. I need to get out for a bit and I think finally cashing in on my promise to visit is a good idea. I've been making plans with friends from high school as well recently. I think I've reached a point where I really miss people.
Alright, it's two in the damn morning. I need to sleep in order to whine about the world spiraling ass-backwards. Cheers!
So better start showin' up now.
To bring one up to speed since October, I am still living with Graham in Euharlee (to the left of Cartersville if you look at a map), so small there is no post office, in Bartow county where a distinct smell trickles into your olfactory as you cross the county border on 75. Where if the weather is nice, the moon is full, and the sky is clear, we just lay out on the lawn and listen to the meth labs blow up and the donkey haw. This is a little piece of southern gothic entertainment.
Gas prices slowly creep up as the stimulus package plunger attempts to dislodge the wad of economic toilet paper plugging up our country, but still manage to be relatively reasonable. Still have not beat Fallout 3 but I do get the urge to play it every day, just not the time. We have been playing Left 4 Dead, though, and that has given me new reasons to shout monosyllabically.
I got a raise in January and am now making more than I have ever made at any job. I am also planning on making a list of high fiber items for my store and that is just one of the many projects I have adhered myself to. I still absolutely love my job and I am getting more proficient at providing informative service as well as just being a good person.
I'm back in school as well! I am taking Political Science, World Literature, Sociology, and World Civilizations. I am pretty much leading two groups for my classes and have rediscovered my abhorence for relying on anybody else to do work for me. After the "life experience" I have obtained, I've learned that most of these college kids are spoiled brats who got the HOPE and went to Kennesaw because they thought it would be easy, all their courses would be bullshit, somebody actually cares about what they have to say, and that nobody needs to pay attention in class. I really want to pull the bitch card and chew people out, but I suppose I can rely on karma to kick their asses and motivate them.
I am planning to take a mini vacation to Athens at the beginning of April to visit and stay with Helen. I need to get out for a bit and I think finally cashing in on my promise to visit is a good idea. I've been making plans with friends from high school as well recently. I think I've reached a point where I really miss people.
Alright, it's two in the damn morning. I need to sleep in order to whine about the world spiraling ass-backwards. Cheers!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
October in the Basement with Graham
Here I sit next to Graham, whose face is illuminated by the reflection of Fallout 3 from the white sheet that is the screen. It is just shy of three o'clock in the morning. Two and a half hours ago we were driving back from the midnight launch of the game. Which we had reserved 3 hours prior to the midnight release. The release that only six people showed up to- me being the token chick. This is Cartersville: the geek population is about 20 and it has 3 game stores. Although the excitement level of waiting for the game is absent, the fact that the game is closer to tangible than in the Gamestops in Kennesaw is a nice amenity. In short, Cartersville has its perks.
I have spent the past month living in Graham's basement, in our squalor. Doing nothing but smoking cigarettes, watching movies and the Simpsons, eating microwaveable pseudofoods, wishing his mother would stop calling, and playing video games. I have dropped off the map and it's this solitude that holds me back from regretting it. I love the fact that I'm living with a guy who is just as much of a slob as me, loves me, and embraces my inconsistensies as much as I embrace his. I live far away from work but I really look forward to coming home and seeing him. I love driving through rural North Georgia to come home. But it is a bitch on my gas tank.
Speaking of which, *knock on wood*, gas has gone down by a $1.50 roughly, which is highly beneficial for my commute.
We are still looking for a place that's closer to town and the rest of civilization. I wish there were better schools up here but alas I love Kennesaw too much and Graham's set on GA State. Our search is on hiatus, though, because we don't have the money for a security deposit. We do have some roommates lined up, though!
This is what I get for allowing Graham to play Fallout 3 first. Now I have to wither and blog in my dispair. Woe is me- I want to play Oblivion!
Yeah, a good portion of my next paycheck is probably going to go towards video games. Sam and Max for the Wii, Morrowind Game of the Year Edition, and, if I'm feeling saucy, Fable 2. But we shall see about the last one; I will probably get it when it's cheaper.
Cheers for now. Got work in the morning and need to sleep enough to get up and make coffee to wake up more.
I have spent the past month living in Graham's basement, in our squalor. Doing nothing but smoking cigarettes, watching movies and the Simpsons, eating microwaveable pseudofoods, wishing his mother would stop calling, and playing video games. I have dropped off the map and it's this solitude that holds me back from regretting it. I love the fact that I'm living with a guy who is just as much of a slob as me, loves me, and embraces my inconsistensies as much as I embrace his. I live far away from work but I really look forward to coming home and seeing him. I love driving through rural North Georgia to come home. But it is a bitch on my gas tank.
Speaking of which, *knock on wood*, gas has gone down by a $1.50 roughly, which is highly beneficial for my commute.
We are still looking for a place that's closer to town and the rest of civilization. I wish there were better schools up here but alas I love Kennesaw too much and Graham's set on GA State. Our search is on hiatus, though, because we don't have the money for a security deposit. We do have some roommates lined up, though!
This is what I get for allowing Graham to play Fallout 3 first. Now I have to wither and blog in my dispair. Woe is me- I want to play Oblivion!
Yeah, a good portion of my next paycheck is probably going to go towards video games. Sam and Max for the Wii, Morrowind Game of the Year Edition, and, if I'm feeling saucy, Fable 2. But we shall see about the last one; I will probably get it when it's cheaper.
Cheers for now. Got work in the morning and need to sleep enough to get up and make coffee to wake up more.
Monday, September 15, 2008
One Minute Entry
And so I'm back to my normal speed of blogging. Which is once every six weeks. Which could very well match up with a menstrual cycle and therefore consist of "woe-is-me" crap that does not make for a good entry.
So in short, Quincy my laptop got murdered. By me. By accident so no charges were pressed. We tried to revive him but alas we could not and he's but a Gateway corpse.
Went to Dragon*Con and met Nathan Fillion. Now I can die fairly happy.
Am moving in with Graham into a rental house somewhere. Preferably soon. Can't wait to have my own place.
Yeah. Short entry. I'll come up with content soon. Promise!
Cheers
So in short, Quincy my laptop got murdered. By me. By accident so no charges were pressed. We tried to revive him but alas we could not and he's but a Gateway corpse.
Went to Dragon*Con and met Nathan Fillion. Now I can die fairly happy.
Am moving in with Graham into a rental house somewhere. Preferably soon. Can't wait to have my own place.
Yeah. Short entry. I'll come up with content soon. Promise!
Cheers
Saturday, August 2, 2008
VIDEO BLOOOOOOOOOOOG!!!
Yeah. This momentous moment in Leevee blogging history totally deserves all caps. BEHOLD! My first video blog post:
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Autotacular Hate Crimes
A week has passed and life has grown increasingly convoluted. Starting with the saga of Bruno.
The Saga of Professor Bruno
Bruno is my 1989 Ford Ranger, as I may have introduced him before. As he is almost antique, this car is doomed to have personality. Originally, his name was just plain Bruno, but with a Master's Degree in being a bitch to drive and a seat cover reminiscent of an old English professor's tweed sweater, he gained an aura usually saved for pipe-smoking old scholars that have nothing better to do than talk of Melville and Shakespeare all day. Hence the addition of Professor. He has a manual transmission (hence having a male name. I'd name it Hedwig if I were superstitious), no AC, just recently the gas gauge started working by divine intervention, he eats the clasps for the seat belts, and only the right speaker works. Now, occasionally, when Bruno liked a song, the right speaker would come in, allowing me to hear the intended harmonies and nuances in the music that would make me squee (yes, squee) with delight.
Well, last Thursday, Bruno decided to get in a fight with this:
What I endearingly call the Anti-Bruno. A black, huge, GMC Sierra with an automatic transmission and a grill decided to commit the Auto Hate Crime of all hate crimes and bitch slap my poor little podunk white, stick-shift Ford on the intersection of my parent's neighborhood and Chastain Rd. Now, this accident could have been avoided had I not failed to yield at a left turn and if the motherfucker has decided to go the actual speed limit. The accident was definitely my fault because, y'know, I failed to yield. Anyway, I make a left turn into the right lane and hear the honk before the crunch. I feel the guy slam into the back of my car, Bruno swerves to the left while Anti-Bruno plows into the passenger side and Bruno swerves to the left again to a halt, looking directly at the Sierra. I dumbfoundly get out of my car and gaze in horror at the damage done to my car.
On a side note, I was going to buy cigarettes before heading home to dress for Jessica's 21st birthday party and was coming home from my parents' house just after starting the process of signing Bruno over to me. And I was listening to Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell." The irony is so rich, it rots my teeth.
Anyway, to cut this long story short, my car is in the auto-hospital and looks like this:
Since then, I have had to use all the money I allotted for my personal gas to pay for the tanks of others. I am grateful that neither me nor the other people were hurt. I had the cutest cop in the history of ever evaluating my accident. The court date is September 23 at the lovely hour of 8:30 in the bloody morning.
So, other than that, I'm alive and well. Waiting for information on any repairs. If the frame is bent, I'm fucked sideways but if not, I think all that needs to be fixed is the wheel/axel. Sure, he looks ugly as sin but if he's salvageable, I will stick a band-aid bumper sticker on his side saying "Ouch."
I guess that's all for entertainment. I bid you good day!
The Saga of Professor Bruno
Bruno is my 1989 Ford Ranger, as I may have introduced him before. As he is almost antique, this car is doomed to have personality. Originally, his name was just plain Bruno, but with a Master's Degree in being a bitch to drive and a seat cover reminiscent of an old English professor's tweed sweater, he gained an aura usually saved for pipe-smoking old scholars that have nothing better to do than talk of Melville and Shakespeare all day. Hence the addition of Professor. He has a manual transmission (hence having a male name. I'd name it Hedwig if I were superstitious), no AC, just recently the gas gauge started working by divine intervention, he eats the clasps for the seat belts, and only the right speaker works. Now, occasionally, when Bruno liked a song, the right speaker would come in, allowing me to hear the intended harmonies and nuances in the music that would make me squee (yes, squee) with delight.
Well, last Thursday, Bruno decided to get in a fight with this:
What I endearingly call the Anti-Bruno. A black, huge, GMC Sierra with an automatic transmission and a grill decided to commit the Auto Hate Crime of all hate crimes and bitch slap my poor little podunk white, stick-shift Ford on the intersection of my parent's neighborhood and Chastain Rd. Now, this accident could have been avoided had I not failed to yield at a left turn and if the motherfucker has decided to go the actual speed limit. The accident was definitely my fault because, y'know, I failed to yield. Anyway, I make a left turn into the right lane and hear the honk before the crunch. I feel the guy slam into the back of my car, Bruno swerves to the left while Anti-Bruno plows into the passenger side and Bruno swerves to the left again to a halt, looking directly at the Sierra. I dumbfoundly get out of my car and gaze in horror at the damage done to my car.
On a side note, I was going to buy cigarettes before heading home to dress for Jessica's 21st birthday party and was coming home from my parents' house just after starting the process of signing Bruno over to me. And I was listening to Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell." The irony is so rich, it rots my teeth.
Anyway, to cut this long story short, my car is in the auto-hospital and looks like this:
Since then, I have had to use all the money I allotted for my personal gas to pay for the tanks of others. I am grateful that neither me nor the other people were hurt. I had the cutest cop in the history of ever evaluating my accident. The court date is September 23 at the lovely hour of 8:30 in the bloody morning.
So, other than that, I'm alive and well. Waiting for information on any repairs. If the frame is bent, I'm fucked sideways but if not, I think all that needs to be fixed is the wheel/axel. Sure, he looks ugly as sin but if he's salvageable, I will stick a band-aid bumper sticker on his side saying "Ouch."
I guess that's all for entertainment. I bid you good day!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Paradise By Blogger's Dashboard Lights
I made myself a vow that I would not blog until I received and set up my laptop with wireless internet and such. As you can tell, I have either given the vow a fuck that or I have received my laptop in the mail. Those of you choice B selectors, give yourselves a pat on the back.
Actually, in the past week, more than I'd like to say has occurred. I was kicked out of my parent's house a week ago and has to scramble to find a new living arrangement. Thankfully my friend Beth's family has adopted me at least until I am financially stable on my own. My folks are giving me my car yet not their tax information to fill out my FAFSA. I probably will have to go after a private student loan in which they will still have to co-sign and then will result in me getting bitched at furthermore. Hopefully Dylan will intervene somehow if I ask him but I have to pull some weight and strings before I result to his tactics. I need to go up to financial aid and bring a book and wait in the line until I grow a beard but I'll do it.
In other happier news, I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Actor's Express tonight for only a dollar (I love being a member of a certain mailing list) because I could do "pay-what-you-can" admission. The show was amazing. What I love about Hedwig is that it is a deep story about self discovery, an empowering tale about the pride in being a woman, and how finding your other half is crucial in everyone's life. The music is beautifully written from hardcore beer dribbling punk rock to bittersweet ballads that bring a tear to your eye. The lyrics are filled to the brim with allusions from Aristophanes in "The Origin of Love" to the mentioning of Lot's wife in "Wicked Little Town." It's correlations of other works and motifs in literature that when set to music for a controversial show such as Hedwig makes me beam with joy and utter interest. I can't express how much I enjoyed the show. The music makes me cry if I'm watching Craig Waldrop in a one piece suit with fishnets and pumps belt it out or if I'm listening to John Cameron Mitchell sing it on my iTunes collection; it is just that moving.
Plus Waldrop had FANTASTIC legs. Wow.
I get paid tomorrow so this slight living in solo squalor thing won't last much longer. I'm not really bad off- I live with wonderful people, I have a car, I have a job, I have a laptop with internet. Life's pretty good I suppose.
Until I write again, adieu!
Actually, in the past week, more than I'd like to say has occurred. I was kicked out of my parent's house a week ago and has to scramble to find a new living arrangement. Thankfully my friend Beth's family has adopted me at least until I am financially stable on my own. My folks are giving me my car yet not their tax information to fill out my FAFSA. I probably will have to go after a private student loan in which they will still have to co-sign and then will result in me getting bitched at furthermore. Hopefully Dylan will intervene somehow if I ask him but I have to pull some weight and strings before I result to his tactics. I need to go up to financial aid and bring a book and wait in the line until I grow a beard but I'll do it.
In other happier news, I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Actor's Express tonight for only a dollar (I love being a member of a certain mailing list) because I could do "pay-what-you-can" admission. The show was amazing. What I love about Hedwig is that it is a deep story about self discovery, an empowering tale about the pride in being a woman, and how finding your other half is crucial in everyone's life. The music is beautifully written from hardcore beer dribbling punk rock to bittersweet ballads that bring a tear to your eye. The lyrics are filled to the brim with allusions from Aristophanes in "The Origin of Love" to the mentioning of Lot's wife in "Wicked Little Town." It's correlations of other works and motifs in literature that when set to music for a controversial show such as Hedwig makes me beam with joy and utter interest. I can't express how much I enjoyed the show. The music makes me cry if I'm watching Craig Waldrop in a one piece suit with fishnets and pumps belt it out or if I'm listening to John Cameron Mitchell sing it on my iTunes collection; it is just that moving.
Plus Waldrop had FANTASTIC legs. Wow.
I get paid tomorrow so this slight living in solo squalor thing won't last much longer. I'm not really bad off- I live with wonderful people, I have a car, I have a job, I have a laptop with internet. Life's pretty good I suppose.
Until I write again, adieu!
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