August 31, 2007
Another reason why cars suck
I swear to God, I’m going to find the technology to silence and severely punish those who have car alarms and who use their horns in non-emergency situations. HATE THOSE TO DEATH.
It’s nice to be able to walk to everything, but living in the city has been grating on my nerves with all of the car horns. Car alarms go off so many times everyday and just drone oooooon. And apparently blowing your horn is the new sigh of displeasure. Why just roll your eyes or mutter a curse when you can HOOOOOONK and let an entire mile radius know that you’re mildly put out?
I Googled this shit, of course, and learned the following;
car alarms do not work
no one likes hearing car alarms
silent car alarms exist where the owner is “paged” instead
some cities are working on banning car alarms
there is no death ray yet for stopping car alarms and reaming the owners
This last point is what troubles me the most. Acting completely contrary to reason is something that I have finally come to expect of my fellow man. Not having a handheld device that extracts justice is not. There are itty bitty portable music machines, police sticks that make people vomit, convulse, or pass out, and ninja TV remotes. WHERE is my car alarm/horn killer? Where is my jerk-seeking missile of retribution? So lame.
I can feel it; someday soon I will be walking along when a driver selfishly plays the “honk at you continually to prove my moot point” game (which happens every. single. day. in my hood) and I will unleash the fury on them. Reach in the drivers window and POW! style. *twitch*
In conclusion, no one is trying to steal your damn car and everyone other than the driver of the car in front of you does not “deserve” to hear your horn. Ride a bike, ass.
And happy birthday, Sean. I hope you’re having fun. Miss you terribly.
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August 30, 2007
Albatross gone
On August 27, 2007, magic occurred. The 36′ motorhome and its associated 31K loan were lifted from my shoulders (and credit report). There’s been an intermittent hallelujah chorus over here since then. The list of financial and emotional maladies that our year as full-timers caused is so extreme, lengthy, and honestly, just embarrassing, that I will easily refrain from listing them. I kid that I will write a black comedy about that year, but more likely I will sweep it under the mental rug like so many other traumas. Several times a buyer seemed on the bring of purchase, but then things got fuckety. We claimed faith, but my snarl and tears said otherwise. And yet, as promised, as we requested and thanked God for in advance, it happened according to His perfect plan. I mean, really, I couldn’t have orchestrated a better sale. (Realistically speaking. In dream land, a fairy appeared and transformed the hulk of metal and diesel into a giant money tree.)
So life is REALLY GOOD. Waking up smiling good. Haven’t done that since 05′ I think.
I’ve helped move some of my clients over to new web developers so that I can focus more on my websites and my dreams. Too long I’ve been self-employed, but still working towards other peoples’ goals. That too is working out perfectly. (Cept’ for one ingrate who I gave hours of free work to because I know they’re poor and they haven’t even said thank you. They have asked for more site work, though! Hmm, maybe bad karma has something to do with their business sucking for years on end?) I’m writing much more, but still not enough. I get a million ideas, but few “bite into my leg and refuse to let go”. They whisper beginnings, middles, punchlines, but rarely more than one per idea. I think it’s payback for years of stifled words. They flood out now in torrents coming from all directions, so that I have trouble choosing and sticking with one at a time. I will be victorious, though. Practice and determination and always doing what I love. Those are the keys.
The 1930’s (and the years that buffer them) are still at the forefront of my mind. I’ve dabbled in many decades, but always stopped at the 40’s. Slowly I inch backwards in time, settling now a decade earlier. (It’s those damn shapeless drop waists that still keep me from embracing the 20’s!) My Halloween costume has thusly morphed from 50’s pink on pink to more of a sepia toned flapper. Both deceased tightrope walkers of course, with a broken bone protruding grotesquely from my neck and other assorted as-to-be-determined breaks, bruises, and bloodying. (Hmm, if one instantly dies of a broken neck, would there be any bruising? A Google result says yes, but it would be devoid of swelling, color changes and coagulation. Mental note.) I just can’t bring myself to write a materials list that includes “brown and gray toned fabric”, so I’m still brainstorming. In the meantime, Winamp and live365 are fueling me with big band, hymns, and old time radio, and I’m sifting through IMDb for period films.
As Halloween fast approaches, my work on 365 Halloween and Mable’s Halloween section increases accordingly. Trying to find inspiration for a creepy, old circus layout. Thus far, failing miserably.
This morning I picked up some Ronald’s vegan donuts and had an apple fritter for breakfast. Was promptly sick. White flour and sugar, you are wicked.
This is my life right now.
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