The denim skirt was acid washed, with an elastic high waist. It looked like a brand new, preservation time traveled from 1985. It had a fantastic tag! I could resist the skirt, but the tag I could not.
You can tell they really love each other, by the matching hair streaks!
Yes, your eyes aren't lying, it does say:I'll love you here to Eternity. My blue jean baby.
It was the worst date I ever had. The red batman symbol sticker on the middle of the rear window of the red 99' honda civic, should have been a sole indicator. "Turn away (sounds like "tuuurrrn aawwwwaaaay" in a deep voice)... "don't go there" (kind of like warning spooky voices in a haunted house). I was 18, in a new city, a new apartment, I was desperate for human contact besides my family (don't get me wrong, I love my family). In the car ride, we talked about the sports we played in high school (boring). At times our voices were masked by the bad latest rap song.
"I ran cross country" I'd say
"WHAT?" He'd say.
"DROP IT LIKE IT'S HOT DDDRRR RR OP IT LIKE IT'S HOT" said the radio.
I know, that should have been my que to plead "the bathroom" and start running the opposite way of the car. That didn't happen. I just kept on riding in that car, the one with the Batman sticker, towards...wait wait wait wait, "are we going to Beaverton?"
We show up at THE OLD SPAGHETTI FACTORY... in Beaverton, in the Batman car, with the sports conversations ( I know I know, I sound like an asshole, but seriously, would you be happy?) Blah blah blah, skip to the parts where I'm ordering a drink appealing to a minor, like a strawberry lemonade. Just when I thought that maybe I was being unfair, my drink is placed in front of me. (QUE the condiments)... ok go! In come salt, pepper, parmesan cheese, sugar, the date... my date is actually putting these things into MY drink.
"What the hell are you doing?" I ask in a "What the hell are you doing" type tone.
"I dare you to drink that" He says (as if he was being cute, and flirty).
"Dare me to drink that? I'm not going to dr..." I start to say.
"FINE, I wi.." Mid way through the word "will" he is drinking my lemonade, condiments and all. It pretty much went on like that, bad... really awkward, all the way to the very last bad rap song home.
I was like a condescending kindergarten teacher this morning as I drove to work.
"Come on, you can do it" (I said to my car sensitively). My car has been in the shop for two days. Paying to replace your transmission is like breaking your legs without health car, expensive, painful, and embarrassing because your friends write "hope you feel better" all over your cast... Ok so maybe it's not at all like that, and maybe it is, I can't say that I've ever had duel leg casts, or single... Let us all take a moment to knock on virtual wood.
This morning as my car drove along through traffic, I felt like a dog trainer, or a person talking to a baby learning to crawl "you're doing great," I'd say, patting the dashboard. I know I know, it sounds nuts to type, and I sounded... looked nuts this morning (and I'm not talking about peanuts and cashews). I think it will take a few days, before I can fully trust that my car is not going to, break it's legs, and wear the hot pink casts, or whatever.
Do you ever meet someone, who has a name that goes fantastically to the tune of a song? Every time you hear the name, or say it, you can't help but think of, I don't know Snoop Dogg or something. Just me? A customer that I work with has a name that sounds so good to the tune of Lady Madonna by The Beatles. Due to confidentiality reasons I can't attempt to blog sing his name. Let's see here. Ok I got it, my Mom tells me a story about when I was 3 years old, sitting in my car seat, riding home from a car pool... in the car pool lane (ok that last part is untrue, about the "car pool lane" I was just testing your focus, and I'm not talking about the car). Are you still with me? Excellent (in the tune of a creepy Mr. Burns, old man, twiddling his fingers). So I was in my car seat, and when Debra Kem, my chauffeur (by that I mean, Eli Kem's Mom) so when Debra open's the door, I sez I sez to Debra, (or I guess I sing to Debra) "Debra Kem, Debra Kem Debra Kem Debra Kem Debra K eh eh em" (that was obviously in the tune of Hallelujah). You should really try it some time, the whole name lyrics switcheroonie. In fact I challenge you, right now to try it... your own name with let's say... Hypnotize by Notorious B.I.G. You know, Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see.... blah blah blah, GO!
Welcome home old crow. Or I guess, it's the other way around... Old crow would say to me: "Welcome home, old Emily" (I imagine a bottle of old crow whisky sounding a bit course, and sloshy... because of the liquid naturally). Last night as I made my decent from Seattle to Portland, right at the part when the stewardess should be saying something along the lines of "and to your left is Mt. St Helens... thank you for blah blah blah blah please buckle your seat belt..." right about then, is when my car broke down in Ridgefield fucking Washington. It broke down on the main drag, you know that hot little joint right off the freeway? Oh you're not familiar with the Chevron gas station? You aren't? Gulp, that's um, cool (in an awkward judgmental tone). But seriously, I'll skip the juicy details, like the part when we had to role the car off the main road on to this sketchy gravel road behind the Chevron station, I'll skip the bacon too (ooh tough crowd, get it... juicy, bacon... it's been a long long two days).
Today my car resided behind Chevron, to await its tow. I can only imagine the time laps film of my car shamelessly waiting. Shall we imagine it together? Ok, Go:
So ok we drive away, me glancing back anxiously, like a kid saying good bye to your parents on the first day of kindergarten. Tick tick tick person pees all over the hood... tick tick tick (oh and by the way the "tick tick tick" is how I envision time laps film noise) tick tick tick... a raccoon climbs underneath my car and goes to sleep.... tick tick tick... someone harpoons, or perhaps nets the raccoon and cooks it on the fire they built on the hood my car... tick tick tick teenagers having sex.. tick tick tick and the night goes on... and the night goes on... and the night goes on. Meanwhile I'm at home in my bed snuggled into my nest of blankets, dreaming about the time laps of my car sitting behind the Chevron.