April 29, 2010

Don't get married. Ride your bicycle.

When I was a kid of about 7 or 8 I DISTINCTLY remember my Grandpa Lema telling me "Don't get married.  Ride your bicycle."  I think this was in direct correlation to him arguing with my Grandma over SOMETHING.  I wish I could remember what.  I do remember it was the kind of arguing that makes you realize even as a kid how well these two people know each other and how much they truly love each other.  They argued all the time but damned if it wasn't entertaining - and damned if it didn't teach me to be a little firecracker when I'm really passionate about something. 

So as I'm at a time in my life when the majority of my best friends are quite suddenly getting married, this phrase has darted out at me frequently.  Most importantly, it makes me laugh because my Grandpa was HILARIOUS.  Although sometimes I'll over analyze it and think maybe he was telling me to not get tied down and to roam the world free, to pursue my dreams as a lone pirate or ranger or cowboy or Jedi or other rogue awesome scavanger warrior.  Or maybe he was saying that it is my destiny to ride alone for awhile. 

Or maybe he just said it cause he knew it would make my Grandma frown and then try hard not to laugh and then hit him with a kitchen spoon.  Cause that's how in love they were.

April 21, 2010

What is rattling?

A couple of weeks ago I got my car back from the shop after having been rear-ended.  There was minimal damage but my bumper had to be replaced blah blah blah. 

I was driving around a few days later and kept hearing a rattling sound coming from behind me so I started reaching into the back seat and flailing my arm around to see what is was.  I found a small clip in the side door (yes I managed to reach this whilst driving) and thought I had solved the problem. 

But the rattling continued.

So when I stopped at the local CVS to pick up some toothpaste and wine (perfect combination) I peered into the backseat.  And saw an ENTIRE bumper.  My entire old bumper was in my backseat and I hadn't even noticed.  A giant metal and rubber HARPOON.   I MEAN THE ENTIRE BUMPER.  FOR THREE DAYS.  IN MY BACK SEAT. 

I then proceeded to drive home and put it in the hall closet in my apartment - one, to use as a weapon when zombies attack us and two, to remind myself to pay attention to the bumpers in my back seat and three, to have it be something that my roommate finds on a random day in our hall closet (you're WELCOME trisha).

April 12, 2010

An Ode to Colby

Today my parents decided to sell my first car, Colby the Beige Pontiac.  He has been a good friend since I was 15,  always waiting for me, and never jealous but instead ever accepting of my newest transportation, Betty the Jetta.  He never let me down, even when I ran him into a giant pole and my brother had to use a sledge hammer to get out the dent.  Even when I broke off the little knob that controls the side view mirror and then broke the side view mirror trying to fix the knob.  Even when I drove him over a barrier and popped his tire and allowed strange 15 year old boys into his trunk to retrieve his spare tire.  Even when I scoffed at his all beige all the time interior and exterior.  Even when I hung cliche black dice on his rear view mirror and thought I was cool.  Even when I named him after the first winner of Survivor.  That's right.  Colby.  Always loyal, always true. May your new owner not run you into as many things as I have. 

I need not say anymore than my first boyfriend's true and eloquent words on the subject:


I will never forget the beautifully awkward "first times" i had within your safe and comforting chassy.

You were the chariot that i rode into manhood.

Colby, i will light a candle for you today and for all pontiacs so that they might one day dream of living up to your unstained (well... i bet it got a little stained...) reputation.

Farewell sweet prince.

The rest is silence.