My shift knob
04/25/2003 10:33 p.m.
Yesterday we had a surprise party for my mom's 50th birthday. I had spent about a week figuring out how we were going to get her to the restaraunt and guess what? My dad just TOLD her. So she wasn't surprised and all my creativity was for nothing. Grrrrrr. She got kinda drunk so I drove her home and in her van she had a bunch of random pieces from my car. Among the pile I found my Honda's shift knob. I hadn't really felt sad about it before, just lucky to be alive, but then once I saw the scratched up shift knob, with parts of it worn smooth from my hand, it made me sigh and reminisce. (Bad spelling, I know, but English majors don't know how to spell, that what makes us so cute.) I want to turn it into a necklace or something. I am having a tow truck company bring my car home today so that the city can come pick it up and dispose of it. For some reason, they can only pick it up from residential property. But I think it'll be sad to see it. If looking at the shift knob made me sad, then looking at the destroyed car will probably be much worse. I have this funky bruise on my arm that started out turquiose and now is turquiose on one side and banana yellow on the other, it's pretty interesting. And instead of developing standard black eyes, I have a long purple streak under each. I am not big on makeup, and even if I was, I don't know that I'd cover them. I bear my battle scars proudly and in tribute to my fallen friend, Uborka the Honda.
I am currently Reflective
I am listening to Someone using a chainsaw far away