Mechanics, Morals and Manners

I am usually a very calm, rational, reasonable individual. In fact I can only think of two occasions where I have entirely lost my cool and went on "very nearly all-out" verbal assaults. Both of these incidents involved taking cars to mechanics.
The first one occurred years ago with my Mitsubishi Eclipse. I dropped it off at COURTESY Mitsubishi for a TUNE-UP. Kurt took me to pick the car up upon "completion". I had just flown in from San Francisco and was dressed appropriately for San Francisco in a longsleeve black turtleneck and black pants. I was told to wait "out front" for them to bring out my car. "Out front" translated to outside in the full sun and heat of a Las Vegas summer. After 20 minutes it still hadn't come out. Turns out the car wouldn't start. No big deal I thought.... I will just go inside and wait for the mechanics to figure it out. I decided to purchase a cold diet Coke as I was a bit withered from waiting outside in my heat absorbing ensemble. I didn't have change so I went to the cashier and requested change for my dollar bill. The cashier didn't have change. No big deal I thought, "I just want a diet Coke." I said. "We have no change in the drawer." "Ok.... well, I would like someone to get me a diet Coke then." I said and wandered back to the sofa sure that as THE CUSTOMER I would be granted my tiny request. After waiting another 15 minutes I asked another person there for a diet Coke. After a couple of minutes I began hearing distant murmers of "Hey, your customer wants a diet Coke...." "She's not my customer." "Hey, is she your customer? She wants a diet Coke." "She's not MY customer."
I snapped. I stood up in the middle of the waiting area and yelled at the dim-witted clump of employees that were mushing around about my meager request about 20 feet away from me. "HEY! I JUST BROUGHT MY CAR IN HERE FOR A TUNE UP ... A $400 TUNE UP... AND NOW IT DOESN'T RUN! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WOULD GET FOR $800, BUT I KNOW I AM SOMEBODY'S CUSTOMER AND SOMEBODY HAD BETTER GET ME A FUCKING DIET COKE!"
I don't even remember how or where it came from, but I got my diet Coke.

Shameless Pandering

I don't really have anything to say, but ISN'T THIS CUUUUUUTE?

This shot was taken on our recent trip to Denver. We had just finished up with our fishing and drove to the peaks of the Rocky Mountains. It was breath-taking. On one of the scenic turn-offs I stole Dino's bag of sunflower seeds and used it to lure the local denizens. I just think chipmunks are great.

My oh my! A laundry fly!

Boyfriend: "Baby?"
Me: "mmmh?"
Boyfriend: "Um, you didn't check my pockets before you did the laundry!"
(boyfriend holds up a curious empty plastic package)
Me: "What is that? Was that gum?" (suddenly I realize that it WAS NOT gum) "Oooooooh no! This is bad!"
Me: "Ok, very, very carefully pull out the clothes one by one. I think we are looking for 3 flies." (these would be MY flies from fishing in Denver. My boyfriend had pocketed my back-up flies as they did not fit in my pockets)

I found all three flies before anyone got hurt. I still think this is a better laundry accident than the time I sent a $15 Macanudo cigar through the washer and dryer before realizing it. Tobacco leaf bits EVERYWHERE!

Never Goin' Back to My Old School

On my recent trip to Denver Colorado my boyfriend's parents took me round to see the remains of Lowry AFB. It had been nearly 18 years since I had arrived at that base fresh from boot camp in San Antonio. As we drove around the familiar yet vastly changed grounds I began to fear that I wouldn't recognize my old dorm facilty or my old school. But suddenly it slid into view. OMG! What a strange feeling overcame me as I studied it's dilapitaded and deserted appearance. While some of the buildings on the base had been restored as part of a community college campus, my old dorm looked deserted. Battered blinds still hung in the window of my old dorm room, refusing to allow me a peek inside although I am sure not much has changed. Hard wax-polished industrial linoleum tiled floor, cinderbrick walls thick and glossy white with dozens of coats of paint over the years, flourescent light fixtures mounted in brittle plastic trays.

What I searched for desperately, with my useless for the task, physical eyes was a shade of Michele. Was there some perhaps almost imperceptable hint of myself left there among the untended grass where I had played football with chums, on the cement patio where I had met daily in the cold, black, snow-scented mornings for roll call, or maybe just a lingering pink glow in the glass foyer where I had a first kiss with a young marine named Joe.

I had a swelling in my soul that made me want to burst into tears and for what reason I didn't know why. I of course did not burst into tears as I had an audience. But the feeling was strange to me in that I could not identify the motive. So I tucked it away to dissect later. I still have yet to sort it out. Sadness at a time past and gone forever? Sorrow over the loss of my youth? Compassion for the young girl who had no idea what she was doing? Joy at the obvious indication of my part in the system of birth, growth, decline and death?

I think I will have to sort it all out with a slew of martinis and a friend who is true enought to get drunk and weepy-emotional with me and hold no recrimination (or embarassing recollection) of the "session" upon the following morn.

Steely Dan!

Was there ever a more incredible night? Under the slightly cloudy skies of Colorado, nestled in the mammoth red rock cliffs of Redrock State Park, snuggled and warm with my beautiful man listening to the heavenly sounds of Michael McDonald and Steely Dan! I really have no words to transmit my emotions!

But to Owen Wilson: "SHAME ON YOU OWEN! SHAME SHAME SHAME! And he should be really ashamed to have said "I don't even know who Mr. Steely Dan is!" My God Man! We never thought you were a BRIGHT shiny star but that level of cultural ignorance is stunning!