O God, it's raining but I'm not complaining.
I was frazzled a little today. I had to get up and return my rental car, and then wait around at the rental car place until a dude from the fixit shop could come pick me up so I could pick my car up and drive off. I didn't get to campus until 11:15. Ugh. I figured out that my work is a lot like Homer and Marge Simpson's marriage. It's built on a solid foundation of routine. Interrupt that routine, add a sexily-voiced coworker (who sounds suspiciously like Michelle Pfieffer - or however the fuck you spell her last name), and things go haywire. So the trip to the fixit show this morning was my life's equivalent of Homer Simpson meeting that girl in that one episode where he sings the song about Marge bringing him a turkey. Hell of a life, what?
It's nice having my car back, though. I forget how nice it is when I have it. I think I really have a great relationship with my car. I mean, it's no Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell - or however the fuck you spell her last name - or anything, but it's a good relationship. It treats me right. It thought it would take a little getting used to going from the rental-car-automatic-transmission to the Dale's-car-manual, but it took off like nothing ever happened.
Another monumental event happened in my life in the past few days - I realized that for the first time in about three years I'm going to go to a rock and roll show this summer! WOOHOO! The Pixies, the White Stripes, and the Flaming Lips are playing in San Diego (along with a smattering of crappy bands) for a big festival in July, and I'm gonna go. Dammit. I'm gonna go. Future self, I'm telling you that you must obey the promise that I made to my present self. You must buy tickets to see this rock show. It's been so long since I've seen any kind of live rock and roll. It's pissing me off, actually. I missed the Urge Overkill show at the Casbah because I didn't know about it. I refuse to let that happen ever again. Rock and Roll, here I come.
Eh, maybe I'll just play Hungry Hungry Hippos.
It's nice having my car back, though. I forget how nice it is when I have it. I think I really have a great relationship with my car. I mean, it's no Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell - or however the fuck you spell her last name - or anything, but it's a good relationship. It treats me right. It thought it would take a little getting used to going from the rental-car-automatic-transmission to the Dale's-car-manual, but it took off like nothing ever happened.
Another monumental event happened in my life in the past few days - I realized that for the first time in about three years I'm going to go to a rock and roll show this summer! WOOHOO! The Pixies, the White Stripes, and the Flaming Lips are playing in San Diego (along with a smattering of crappy bands) for a big festival in July, and I'm gonna go. Dammit. I'm gonna go. Future self, I'm telling you that you must obey the promise that I made to my present self. You must buy tickets to see this rock show. It's been so long since I've seen any kind of live rock and roll. It's pissing me off, actually. I missed the Urge Overkill show at the Casbah because I didn't know about it. I refuse to let that happen ever again. Rock and Roll, here I come.
Eh, maybe I'll just play Hungry Hungry Hippos.
posted by dd0031 at 5:13 PM
2 Comments:
oh my. you referenced depeche mode, bill and ted and four weddings and a funeral in one blog. i think we may have been the same person in 1989.
Actually, the B&T reference was wholly on accident. It was more of a joke for the philosophers in the audience. (If there are any.) But, er, thanks?
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