Due to the recent increase in the amount of google image searches for “Velvet in Dupont,” I figure some of you seem to want a picture of me, those in particular being from Canada, somewhere out west, the Carolinas and Philly. And yet, all of you have ended up on the same page from October, 2005, with a picture of my loves, Sammy and Thora. (Respect the stats, peeps.) So, okay, since I aim to please, I present to you, dear readers, my breasts. Check the header. Satisfied? No? That’s because you are one of the few who are sending me some creepy emails. Now, stop.
I’ve got nothing interesting to say. The recent full moon apparently fucked my life up from one end to the other. My poor Speedracer, just 40 miles shy of warranty expiration, has a broken passenger door and has spent the last week in the ER, with some part on its way from California. They didn’t have a loaner for me on Friday, when I dropped my car off, and I said it was no big deal. Yeah. Until Monday.So, when the car wasn’t fixed over the weekend, how did I get to Gaithersburg to go to work Monday? I rode the motorcycle. Lord. If only I was smart enough to remember to NOT put on lip gloss before the ride. I ate probably three bugs, not including the ones that got stuck in my Lancome Juicy Tubes. And, when I went for a run at the gym Monday night and wiped my face with a towel, it was black! Good lord we live in a dirty ass place. On my ride, Connecticut Avenue was closed off and I was that dick motorcycle rider, weaving between cars. I always said I’d never do that, and look at me eating my words. And bugs.
So today I took the metro. To the end of the line folks. Then I had to get a cab. Jesus, how on earth can a cabbie in Maryland charge $15 for a ride a few miles? I swear, who the hell wants to be driving around in Maryland anyway? They should gouge you if you ask to go near the border, but within the same town? Actually, that’s not nice, because I, freak that I am, love Rockville. Love it, love the Pike, love everything about it. So, okay, I’ll behave now.
Luckily today, after much whining, they gave me a loaner car. It ain’t no Speedracer though – well, in size. Parking in the city is nothing short of a bitch already, but with this thing? Oy. And it goes 90 mph easily, without even feeling it. However, since it’s my policy to embrace things that are bigger and faster, well, there you go.
Still playing phone tag with the Lunch people about my practice dates. Phone tag is
mostly all my fault, because I’ve been remiss in calling back. It’s hard to care, really.
Yeah, that was boring. Even I stopped paying attention after I was done discussing my boobs. Anyone need smelling salts?