R.I.P. Smurfette

I have not blogged for a while because I have been avoiding this blog. If I write about Smurfette, then it's for real - she's gone. Even though in reality she already is gone, I keep putting off the thought. It's like someone who refuses to believe that Elvis is really dead. LOL

I was jotting down some memories I had of my beloved car the other night and realized that I spent more time with my car than I did with my husband. I bought Smurfette just 2 weeks after I got back from England after we got married. She became my best friend. I saw her every day. I didn't see James for the majority of the first 2 years. Shana was on the phone with me when I stopped by the lot to say goodbye to Smurfette. She commented on the fact that she spent more miles in that car than any other - and she wasn't the one driving! Now imagine how many I spent in that car... No wonder I feel so attached to it. My cars always become an extension of me in some way. I don't quite understand it, but I start to believe they have feelings and personalities just like any of my friends. She really did feel like a comfortable, familiar close friend. I know most of you are thinking I've completely lost it, but I don't care. Good for you for not getting attached to your vehicles. I can't help it.

So not only did I put nearly 100,000 miles on this car in a little over 4 years, but between my dad, brother and I, we probably replaced everything on the car at least once and paid for it a dozen times over. That's the other bad thing about being attached to a car - you never know when to stop fixing it. I wish my brother was around so he could fix it now. Really. I would rather have Smurfette back with no air conditioning, than drive Charlie (that's what I named the new car, by the way). He's just not the same.

Back to the memories. So here are a bunch of them, in no particular order:
Before I bought a new battery, she used to die all over the place - and it most often happened at the post office near the airport. This one time it was sleeting and nasty and this woman helped give me a jump. The battery was so disgusting and junked up with leaking battery acid that we had to scrape it clean with this metal brush she just happened to have in her car. She gave me the tool and said I probably needed it more than her. The kindness of strangers :)

I lived on Meinecke and Humboldt for a while in Milwaukee. It was awesome because I had a garage spot. During the winter it rocked pretty hard because I didn't have to scrape my car off. One night it was snowing terribly and I had been at the Alano Club on Prospect Ave. My friend Becky wanted to venture out in the storm and go to Denny's. She had a 4-wheel drive truck, so we braved the unplowed roads and went to eat crap food. By the time we got back to the east side, it had snowed 12 inches and they still hadn't plowed. We had to dig Smurfette out of the parking lot and then attempt to drive to my apartment in Riverwest. There were a number of times where she had to push me because that little car had absolutely no traction or weight in the snow. After 40 minutes we finally made it to my block, only to discover that no one had plowed the alley to my garage yet. Becky had to push me all the way to the garage - and this is how I got the hole in my rear bumper. At one point, I remember just getting out of my car and laying in the snow because I was already soaking wet from getting out and trying to push it. Man I'm so glad I don't live in Wisconsin any more!

The one and only time I stole CDs from the Exclusive Company I got a lesson in instant Karma. I took 2 CDs - System of a Down "Toxicity" and Lords of Acid "Voodoo U" - I was replacing CDs that had been stolen from me. ironic. Anyway, I drove straight to Shana's house from work to help her set up her new laptop. It was broad daylight and I was only inside for 20 minutes. I came back to my car to find that someone had broke in and stolen my stereo. I got the point and returned the CDs I took the very next day.

I used to have a bunch of political bumper stickers on Smurfette. 3 days after my stereo was stolen, I was parked in front of my friend Debbie's house in West Allis. Again, it was broad daylight, and someone smashed my window in. They didn't take anything, just busted my window. My dad fixed it with a window from a junkyard, but when he fixed it, he took off all the political stickers because he insisted it was some crazy republican that smashed my window because they didn't like my blatant liberal propaganda.
I replaced all the stickers with band stickers. I liked that much better anyway.

Another time I broke down at the post office my friend Jonathan came all the way to the south side to give me a jump. It was the alternator that time, and it kept dying every 2 blocks. I finally just threw it in neutral and let him push me back to my grandmother's house. I'm pretty sure it was raining that time too. And Jonathan was about as gentle with the pushing as Becky was in the snow.

Danelle and I once drove up to Crivitz to go camping. I don't remember why we ended up in a hotel instead, but we had fun driving. I think we explored a lot of central Wisconsin that weekend as well.

Speaking of Danelle, I remember driving to Chicago on her birthday to see the Kaiser Chiefs. We were listening to Travis and when "Why Does it Always Rain on Me" started to play, it seriously started raining. It stopped shortly after the song was finished.

Another time I was driving on 894 and it was raining. "Yellow" was playing on the radio and my wiper blades kept time perfectly with the song. It was the only time that ever happened. I have tried it many times since, even with the same song, and could never get it to work again.

Smurfette was always with me as I picked James up from the airport. She was also there every time I had to take him there to go back to England. She saw a lot of my tears.

One time I picked James up and we went on a mini road trip. Well, it was a pretty major road trip considering I was the only one driving. We first went to Indianapolis. The only reason we stopped there was because I was exhausted from driving. The next day we drove to Louisville to see MUSE. We left and drove most of the night to Kansas City to see them there the following day. We stopped at a crappy roadside motel so James could experience that bit of Americana that for some reason was appealing to him. Ick. When we got to the Uptown Theatre in KC, I parked in front of this restaurant called Chubby's. We were at the venue quite early, and while we were standing in line to get it, I decided to put my hoodie in the car. As I walked up the street, I saw 4 guys pointing at Smurfette before they went into Chubby's. My heart started pounding as I was almost immediately certain those 4 men were MUSE and their manager. I tossed my hoodie in the back of my car and darted into the restaurant to use the bathroom. Sure enough, it was them. I tried to ready myself in the bathroom but had come down with the worst case of cottonmouth a non-smoker ever had! I stumbled out to their booth to stammer my "I Love You" and "You're my favorite band" and then ran back to get James and bring him to meet them. Matt Bellamy winked at me. Tom Kirk (their manager) recognized James from his flight. Then Matt randomly asked if James skateboarded. So weird. But I was able to settle my imploding heart by meeting my favorite band in the whole world - and it was all because they were pointing at the MUSE stickers on Smurfette.

Theresa and I drove to Minneapolis to see MUSE at the State Theatre. I had scored 2nd row orchestra pit tickets on eBay and drove the whole 6 hours straight there (since Theresa doesn't drive). Smurfette's air conditioning had just broke, and it was seriously 85 degrees the whole way there. It was an amazing show - and they played Assassin, my favorite song on BH&R. After the show was done, the security guard let me stay there to try to get a set list. The drum tech walked directly to me, and handed me one of Dom's drumsticks. I could have died! I got a DOMstick! I think I carried it around for 3 days. The drive back was so much fun, even if we didn't get home until 6am.

Later that day (after I slept for 2 or 3 hours), Shana, James and I drove down to see MUSE in Chicago. I can't remember if I drove or not now. Probably not, so this story doesn't belong in this blog!

Another time we drove to see MUSE was all the way down in Tinley Park at the Tweeter Center. It was the Curiosa Festival and Shana had bought us tickets for some special reason. It was a horrendous drive with terrible construction traffic. We got there and found out that Chris broke his wrist earlier that day and MUSE were not playing. I sat down and cried. I didn't care about the Cure. I drove 3 1/2 hours to see MUSE! Dammit. We nicked one of the signs that said "MUSE will not be performing due to injury" and Tom Kirk took a picture of Shana and I holding it. It's still on their website.

Shana and I drove to Chicago to see MUSE at the Riviera Theatre. That was the first time we saw them. I don't think Smurfette's CD player had anything but MUSE in it for 2 weeks before and after that show.

Shana and I drove to Denver to see MUSE at Red Rocks Amphitheater. That was a grueling trip for Shana. It energized me. It was the first time Smurfette had been in the mountains and she did awesome. We picked Amy up from the airport there and the 3 of us drove up to the most godly venue ever. Denver was eerily full of nice people. It was sorta like the Twilight Zone. On the way back from Denver, I treated Smurfette to new windshield wipers. She totally deserved them.

I was a Jimmy John's delivery driver for a brief time the first year I was back from England. That was awesome. Driving a small manual transmission car around downtown Milwaukee was super fun. I made tons of money in tips, but every single shift I worked I acquired a parking ticket. It sorta zeroed everything out. The best part was that I was the only female driver and all the guys were impressed because none of them had manual transmissions. So apparently that made me even cooler. :D

I finally broke down and got car insurance in March of 2005. The reason: I had to pick up Panic! at the Disco from the Rave and drive them to the Exclusive Company. It was the first time I cleaned Smurfette inside and out since purchasing her a year earlier. I had that band of cute little boys squeezed into the little Ford Escort. A million little girls would have killed to be me.
Smurfette has also chauffeured members of Reel Big Fish and Suburban Legends.

In the middle of moving one of the many many times from the south side to the east side or Riverwest, I broke the little trunk divider on the hatch. I'm glad I did because I then discovered that I could sleep in the car easier without that there. I first slept in the car at Green Lake a couple years ago. One bad thing about sleeping in the car in August is that a car doesn't keep out allergens as well as a house. BOO!

Once I figured out that sleeping in Smurfette was sometimes more comfortable than sleeping in my bed, I realized it would be easier to take a solo road trip and not have to pay for a hotel. The first time I tried it was last December coming down to Florida. It was an amazing trip and she was so good to me. She handled the mountains wonderfully. I was a mile away from my destination and I was on the phone with Melanie when she asked how my car was. I literally said "this car is amazing. she hasn't given me any problems" when the accelerator pinned and the car died. Luckily Jacek checked it out and the throttle cable needed some WD40. Phew!

I drove to Chicago by myself one night to see Mew play at the Metro. It was a completely spiritual experience and I left the show as soon as they finished to find the most torrential downpour I had ever seen. I was driving the LSD and I couldn't go more than 15 mph because it was raining so hard, mixed with hail. I was terrified that my windshield would shatter (I had a crack that started 2 months after I got the car - thanks to a semi and a rock). On the way back to Milwaukee I-94 was flooded in 3 different spots. People were pulled over and stalled all over the road. But Smurfette was never afraid of water.

This winter pummeled Smurfette. The roads in Milwaukee were so terrible for so long, and there was so much salt everywhere that she really didn't have much of a chance. From November until January I had to have both tie rods replaced, the entire exhaust system (because it rusted straight through), both wheel bearings, and the crack in the windshield finally reached the other side because of the wild below zero temps mixed with random 40 degree days. One of the crazy snow storms dumped 18 inches on us in one day. I was staying with my friend Theresa on Oakland and Newberry at that time and the city of Milwaukee had plowed the snow into the middle of the boulevard. Stop signs were nearly covered up. I was driving cautiously when a kid ran a stop sign (that was hidden in snow) and hit my bumper. I was supposed to leave on my epic journey the very next day. That set my road trip back a week or so. That's when Smurfette acquired a maroon front bumper. I really wanted to get a white one so she could have a white smurf hat. Oh well. Once I made my way across the northeast I found out the rest of the under body had completely rusted. I had to have both trailing links replaced because the rear wheels were about to fall off. All the parts connected to my gas tank also rusted and caused a wonderful leak. Once those things were repaired I was on my way again, only to get to Florida and have more things fall apart :(

The guys at Midas on 27th Street (near Layton) probably have 1/3 less business since I've not been around! Sean and his employees were always so nice to me. They cut me a couple deals. Go see them if you need work done in the Milwaukee area.

Another road trip I almost forgot about: Shana and I drove to Detroit to see Editors. That should have only been a 6 hour drive, but it took more than 10 either way. We got stuck in traffic in the middle of nowhere in Michigan for an hour. Stopped dead. The guy behind us rear-ended us at one point. He got out of the car and apologized saying that his foot slipped off the break and he didn't mean to. Then we had to sit there and say shitty things about him in my rear-view mirror for another half hour before traffic started to move again. We had an amazing heart-to-heart in that traffic.

On this most recent adventure, Smurfette and I really bonded. She was all I had in between visits with friends. The first week of my adventure I depended on the familiarity of my car to keep me sane. We went to some amazing places... Akron to Dr Bob's house, Niagara Falls, NYC, Boston (I still think she's mad at me for that one), DC, the Blue Ridge Parkway, the ocean, Kerouac's grave... so many special things. I really gave her a last hurrah. I'll miss my little car so much. Every time I come out of a store, I instinctively look for that bright electric blue. But now I find a dull grey - and often can't figure out where it is that I parked because Charlie looks like everyone else's car. *le sigh*

In the 4 years that Smurfette and I spent together we made it to 30 of the 50 states. The best gas mileage we ever logged was 43 mpg in Iowa on the way back from Red Rocks (Shana drove like a grandma to beat my previous record of 39 mpg).
So thank you, Smurfette, for keeping me safe in Wisconsin, Illinois, Minnesota, Michigan, Indiana, Kentucky, Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, Nebraska, Colorado, Ohio, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland and Virginia. I'll miss you terribly.

They Say the Parking Lots are Run by the Mafia

Alright, so here's the deal. I missed out on buying Eddie Izzard tickets because they were already sold out before I moved to Tampa. So I had been periodically checking CL and eBay for tickets. Sunday evening someone listed a single ticket on eBay for Wednesday's show. I emailed him through eBay begging for him to sell it to me with a Buy-it-Now price. How I got so damn lucky (or unlucky?), I'll never know. He emailed back and told me I seemed cool and he would sell the ticket to me at face value. Hot damn! I was ecstatic - finally - Eddie Izzard live! Brian (that's his name, duh) later told me he had looked at my eBay profile and saw that I liked BlackBooks and that's what sold him on selling me the ticket. Thank god I was bored that one day that I filled out my eBay profile (who actually does that??)!

So anyhow, we decide to meet up at the show and I drove around looking for parking for a while. Finally I saw a sign that said "All Day $3.25" There were a dozen other people already parked there. It was a lot with a pay machine where you display your receipt in the windshield. The machine took my credit card and charge me $4 (lying sign) to park. I put the receipt in my windshield and went to the show.

Eddie was hilarious, just like I expected. My throat was raw and I almost lost my voice from laughing out loud. I told Brian I couldn't stick around to try to meet the Izz because I was exhausted after working so much lately. He said he wanted to be a gentleman and walk me to my car. I thought that was nice enough, and we walked and talked on the way to the lot where I parked. As we were approaching, I commented that it was crazy that everyone left so quickly - that the lot was nearly empty. And then I realized with horror that the lot was empty. There was a security guard that was letting people know where their cars were towed to (3 blocks down the street). He didn't work for the lot or the tow truck company, but was just trying to help people out. He walked over and showed me the sign that had in very small print with no lighting "No Parking After 8pm With or Without a Receipt." GRRRRRRRR

We got to the tow company and I was ready to rip someone's head off. They wanted $169 cash to get my car back. Exact cash. They wouldn't give change. They wouldn't take a check. No credit cards. Even if they had taken those things, I still didn't have the money. I nearly threw a fit but held my tongue and asked for the company's information. I then called the police. They told me to ask for the name of who authorized the tow, and whether or not they have a contract with the towing company. She then told me to keep all my receipts and take them to court.

Thank you, Brian, for walking with me and keeping me from strangling someone. He actually told me to not worry about paying him for the ticket - which is super kind of him, but I just can't accept that. I told him I would pay him when I had money - and he said sure but I should just drop the pride and let him help me out. haha!

Mel picked me up and stopped at an ATM to get me $10 so I could take a cab to work the following day. I then called my dad and asked for (even more) money. He was able to get the money to me in the morning and I woke Amanda up and asked for a ride downtown. She dropped me off and they let me in and walked me to Charlie (who I'm sure was pissed off that I left him overnight with a bunch of slimeballs). Once we got to the car, the guy asked to see my registration. WROOPS! No registration because the state of Florida hasn't mailed it to me yet!! The guy then turned into a total smug prick. He started mocking me. He was scoffing at my questions. He was insulting my intelligence. Another guy came over and said "where's your plate transfer?" and I said I didn't have one. He then got all patronizing and asked "well what were you driving before?" and I then lost my shit. I am not proud to say I shouted some pretty ridiculous things at these two high school dropouts. Of course I didn't have a plate transfer because I just moved here from Wisconsin, you fuck bag. How could I possibly transfer Wisconsin plates in Florida? How on earth am I supposed to have the title if the dealership hadn't sent it in yet? So frustrating, and absolutely helpless.

I called Amanda to pick me back up and as she was asking why, one of the guys made some shitty remark toward me and I went off on a rant again. As I grabbed my keys and license back from the guy, I turned and spit on the ground near their feet. Melanie laughed when I told her this - something about the gypsy coming out in me, and how European that was - but it was better than clocking him in the jaw.

Amanda took me back to my place where I dug out a receipt with the VIN number and my name on it, so I could prove it was my vehicle and then we drove all the way back downtown. I walked up sheepishly and began to apologize to the guys for unloading on them when a third walked up on the telephone saying "yeah, I see her. she looks like a real...." and then interrupted me to say "if you do anything out of line I have no problem calling the police and having them arrest you right now. See these cameras? I have on film that you spit on my employees. I could have you arrested for battery right now." and then I said I was just trying to apologize, to which he replied "I don't give a shit about what you have to say. You give him your keys and then act like a lady" -- this angered me more than anything else that was said the whole day and previous evening. But this time I bit my tongue and didn't say another word until I was off the lot. Fuck. What a horrid day. I'm totally hormonal and emotional and a complete psychotic mess, but at least I have my car back.

Woah

This is going to be brief.

I'm not dead.
I've been extremely busy. I've been working my ass off and have been running around like a crazy person. Numerous other things factor into me not blogging for a while.
But I promised my friend Jason that I would blog within 24 hours of his text message. So I'm following through on my promise.

I went to see Eddie Izzard tonight at the Tampa Theatre. Finding a ticket is blogworthy in and of itself, so I will eventually fill you in on the details (it involves eBay and an incredibly kind stranger).

The show was amazing. My throat hurts because I was laughing so hard. However, once the show was over and we were walking back to my car, we were informed that the lot I was parked in had been towed. The entire lot. A scam. I paid electronically at a box with my credit card, but written in small letters behind the parking meter was a sign that said no parking after 8pm whether you paid for parking or not. The company that towed my car said it would cost $169 cash to release it. Cash. I don't have $169 in non-cash let alone those crisp little bills. fuck. So I don't have a car. Melanie gave me $10 to take a cab to work tomorrow. But once they have my car for 24 hours, they charge another $169. GRRRRRR...

I called the cops because this all seemed so wrong to me. They said they could send a squad to help me get the information I needed in order to take the company to court, but they could do nothing about my car. She said to get in writing who authorized the tow and whether the tow company had a contract with that person or not. She also told me to save all of the receipts once I retrieve my car so I have documentation for court. How infuriating.

Eddie Izzard was good, but he wasn't worth $169.

Request

I have been asked to take my previous blog down because someone thinks it's full of shit. I am not taking it down and this is the reason why:
I share everything. It makes people uncomfortable. I am aware of this and I feel bad for some of the people it effects but I do it for a reason. Not enough people talk about what's really going on. I got an email from a friend of mine the day after I posted the blog about how I was hurting. He told me he was suicidal and needed my help. He asked if he could come stay with me in Florida. If I hadn't posted that, he may have never said anything - and another one of my friends could have committed suicide.
I do it for the few people that contact me and say "thank you" for having the guts to say what they are feeling. I do it so other people don't feel alone. I wear my heart on my sleeve and it pisses some people off, but it helps just as many. And that's why I do it.

If you don't like what I post, don't read my blog! It's as simple as that. I try not to use names. Unless it's James or Shana really. I can't avoid names when it comes to "ex" or "best friend."

I know I am not blameless, and I never claimed to be. James and I have been unhappy for a long long time. We have both played our parts. I did some pretty terrible things as well - and James has asked me not to post them because it would just cause even more problems for him. But I know I'm human. And so is he. Everyone that knows me, knows that. Everyone that knows me well knows specifics. It's not a secret.
So just to clear that up for anyone that's wondering - I have been beating the hell out of myself for fucking up in a relationship that was very dear to me. But even if I hadn't fucked up, we were already doomed. Spending 2 years separated because of the government losing paperwork is no way to start a marriage. We both changed so much in that time that we were just too different to mesh any longer. We tried, though.

So that being said, I wish to state that I do not want to cause anyone harm. I honestly only posted the email to Bradley because I was too lazy to re-write it for blog form. I took out the name of the person it involved and that's it. My bad. Laziness tends to be quite a common character defect.

Anyhow, I'm sorry if I cause some people more trouble than they care for - but just know that by posting the intimate details of my life on the internet saved at least one life. It's about connecting with humans through the most barbaric and raw emotions that we all experience. Maybe if we all talked more about what was really going on, there would be less confusion and hate in the world.

A Dose of Reality

I'm going to apologize in advance for this post. It's not a happy one. I just felt the need to put this out to the Universe - maybe to help myself heal. Maybe because I don't know how else to ask for help.
I wrote the following email to my brother-in-law. I couldn't think of a better way to express what I'm going through, so I'm just going to post the note in it's entirety:

hi
i don't know why i feel like i need to talk to you, but i do. i'm so fucking heartbroken and it's tearing me up. i know things haven't been okay for james and i in quite some time, but that doesn't mean i don't love him. if anything has happened in the last 3 months, it's that i've realized i love him even more. but we just are not nice to one another, and i don't even know who he is anymore.
he has gotten himself into a relationship with a [person] who has called herself my friend for the last 5 years. i don't know who i'm more upset with - him or her. but it hurts more than anything i've ever felt before to know that we are no longer together - nor will we ever be - and hurts double that someone who would call me a friend would try to be with him before we are even properly separated. what kind of a friend does that?
i just don't know what to do with myself and what i'm feeling.
having just moved to tampa, i have no good friends here to help me through this. i miss shana. i miss my mom. i miss all my other friends. i need people to tell me it's going to be okay and i find myself calling james looking for that answer. because he is who i have automatically turned to when i've been in pain for the last 6 years. that makes it even worse.
i just don't know what to do. god. i cry every day. like the type of crying that comes straight from the bowels of my emotions. like the crying you hear at funerals. finality. i hate it. and every time i cry like that i get a migraine. it's 7:30 in the morning. i woke out of a dream and could not fall back to sleep, so i found myself on facebook - and saw that [person] had changed her relationship status to "in a relationship" which prompted me to remove them both from my friends lists and ask that she doesn't contact me any longer (because she's been sending me text messages and emails pretending that things are okay - trying to make things okay with me - maybe so she doesn't feel guilty about what she is doing). so i'm starting my day with the guttural crying - starting my day with a migraine. i almost feel like i can't do anything. staying busy is the only thing that helps, but it's worse than pulling teeth to get myself to start anything. i just want to lay in bed all day and cry. and eat ben and jerrys (which makes things even worse because i've gained weight again - so my clothes don't fit properly, and then i begin to believe that no one will ever want me again and i'll die fat and alone). if i'm feeling like this, james has to be feeling something similar. but i don't think he's feeling anything at all because he's putting all of his energy into a relaionship with [person].
i understand why people want to get into rebound relationships - because they don't want to feel this kind of pain - but he is doing himself an injustice by not allowing himself to grow, and he will keep hitting the same brick wall if he continues to jump from one person to another, putting all of his faith in that one individual to be everything to him. i left so he could find himself. so he could become james, the individual. the man who can support himself and drive and have his own friends and be happy. but within a week [person] filled my role. it makes me sad that he's not even attempting to change - and renews my faith that i'm doing the right thing. i cannot be someone's everything. it's impossible. and that's ultimately what made us so miserable.
i'm sorry for this. i know you have nothing to offer me that will make things better. i just needed to let you know where i was at. it makes me sad that i won't see you and your family. i really do like your dad and maureen and ian and tracy. it makes me even more sad to think that i may never see them again. and my hopes of us returning to england... gone. so much to give up on. fuck. i just can't even think about it.
love,
vega


*After that being said, I need to qualify a few things. I know my life here in Tampa is good. I started the job that I wanted; back in a record store - where I feel most at home; where I know I'm good at what I do. I have an amazing new apartment and Melanie is the most wonderful giving roommate (she's feeding me now because I am penniless). I'm making friends here who are really great, and I've been to some awesome meetings. I have a new car that I really like now that it doesn't smell like piss (which, by the way, only ONE person has suggested a name for it - Mr Pissmoke - c'mon people, I need some suggestions!). Things around me are going well. But that doesn't stop the pain from coming. And I'm super grateful to be here feeling this pain, and not in Milwaukee where I would have the 95% chance of running into the two of them constantly. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it. I'm lucky to be able to remove myself from the situation and heal. However, removing myself from the situation also removes me from all the people that know me well and have been there to support me in the past. I have no shoulders to cry on. I have very few hugs. It feels incredibly lonely.

So please just send a nice thought my way once in a while. I know some of you have been through this and gotten through the pain to the other side. How do you do it? How do you feel so much without crumbling into pieces?

Video Blog #1

Hi there!
So I spent WAY too much time trying to figure this all out. Hopefully this video blog is fulfilling! Looking forward to everyone's suggestions on new car names...

Unpacked

Okay. There are a number of things that I want to talk about. First off, yesterday Smurfette died. I was planning on buying a car in the afternoon, but did not expect to have to get towed to the lot. BOO! I was also depending on what little money I would get from selling Smurfette. I'm kinda in some financial trouble now. But Melanie is feeding me, so that's good.

I am avoiding writing my obituary for Smurfette, so instead I've been working on a video blog. Because I'm totally retarded, I haven't worked out how to edit it yet. So I may post it tonight. I may post it tomorrow. Either way, I will eventually have to post about Smurfette. I just don't feel like crying at the moment.

So the 'new' car is a 95 Honda Civic. It's got a shit load of miles on it, but hopefully it will withstand them. I've never actually purchased my own car. My dad has always loaned me the money and I pay him back rather than the dealer or a loan company (or my credit card like now). I'm really lucky to have a super rad cousin in the area that hooked me up with his brother-in-law who in turn super hooked me up with the car. Long story. But good. Except for the fact that the new car smells like a combination of ash tray and piss (with a flowery scent trying to cover it all up). I seriously want to puke when I open the door. I'm going to clean it out tomorrow and see what happens. I'll be jumping for joy once I get rid of that stench!

Alright, so that's that. Hopefully you will have a video to watch in a little while...

PS I just found my car on Craigslist: http://tampa.craigslist.org/car/697652777.html