May 30, 2006

Naked Lady Lipstick

My Aunt Tiny works part time at a nursing home caring for aged ailing senior citizens. Miss Annie, an 80ish lung-cancer survivor, is one of her favorite patients as she is the resident comedian for the Bryant Center. My aunt recently had to respond to a page regarding commotion coming from Miss Annie’s room a few weeks ago. When she got there, she found Miss Annie, wearing nothing but red lipstick regailing her visitors with stories of her many lovas she’d “taken” and how she could remember the names of every last one of them (At last count she hit 90, no Gene Simmons, but Erica Kane watch out). When questioned about about her mischevious behavior Miss Annie responded “the two things that have made me happiest in this life are my body and my red lipstick. It’s all any woman really needs.”

I tell my aunt, “I think that she’s (Miss Annie is) great.

Fast Forward two weeks.

The only fatalities at the intersection of Witchduck and Virginia Beach Boulevard this past Friday were an unfortunate traffic light pole and a 2005 Midnite Blue Pontiac Vibe. The deceased were victims of poor timing and being in the path of Otis (the drunk from the Andy Griffith Show). The Vibe momentarily lamented that the last song it played featured Young Jeezy and Christina Milian and had hoped for something more along the lines of Death Cab for Cutie or Rogue Wave. However, it’s death was not in vain as it saved the passengers contained inside which included two 27 year olds and an almost 2 year old.

When the light turned green, all I seen was white. I heard my room-mate scream at me but I had no time to move. In a literal flash there was only white, I was punched in the face. And I was spinning. I smelt gas, I could taste metal there were sparks near my feet. My godson screaming, things hissing, dizziness, slow motion and then quiet.

Has anyone seen the Volvo commercials? The new ones? I was in my own Volvo commercial.

“Sweety.. can you move??? I’ve got 911 on the phone --- talk to her”...
911: Are you pinned?
911: Are you bleeding?
911: Mam?? Mam?

These were my thoughts (in a non sequitur stream):

One night before I told someone my favorite R.E.M song was Radio Free Europe, because it wasn’t the obvious R.E.M song of Losing My Religion and MY favorite R.E.M song could not be an obvious choice. 11th grade High school: Ian licked his name into Mr. Tucker’s (spanish class) black board. How do you say neighborhood in Spanish? April 6th 2004: Larry’s getting on the plane for Arkansas. I’m not getting this goodbye right. It IS true that in art class there is always a 40 year old “MOM”. Mom, mom, holy cow - I didn’t tell her I I’m not sure if I wanted to be cremated or not?? Why did I have to show off this stupid rental car? If anything has happened to my best friend or her son I think I’ll just disappear. My best friend...the first time I met her she was twirling her keys talking to Nicole while crossing Hampton Boulevard. Are they okay?? Who hit me? Where are they? They left us? She left us?? She hit us and kept going?? She kept going!!! What happened? What is happening? My shoe is burnt, the plastic is melted. My bedroom is a mess. This shirt is a terrible choice for a car accident.

With a phone in my ear, I’m starting to come around again.

ME: dazed coming around: “What? Pinned? No. I have a headache. I’m scratched. I’m okay. I’m alive..I can’t hear you police are here. Thanks......”

Police are all around me now. People are all around. 10 people talking at me at once. In all the chatter a sequence evolved. My light turned green I went forward a few feet and a lady in a black lexus hit me (at about 40 to 50 mph), the light post, and kept going. She never lost speed. 10 minutes later she’s caught, and she’s been drinking.

I was amazed at people. People stopped. And something even more suprising they stayed. One family in her station wagon sat with us the entire time. Another mom and her son, called 911 and helped me carry my stuff out of the road. A third man in a Dakota followed the lady that hit us and led the police to her. I didn’t know how to thank them except giving them hugs. I have to be vague on the who’s and why’s because of impending court dates and anonymity but .... if you should ever stumble across OEF in your internet meanderings friends, you’re honorary members in my book.

I was told in the emergency room I was a very lucky lady. If I would have had a lead foot and moved a few seconds faster she would have hit my drivers side door at that speed and a destroyed rental car would have been the least of my worries.

I’ve been in a depressed “what’s the meaning of this accident funk” for the past Memorial-Day weekend.

I think it’s this. I’m hoping, I make it to 80 or 90, still silly and sassy wearing my red lipstick (not sure about naked). And I’m hoping I can take the whole gang along to laugh at me.

May 23, 2006

I know you guys have watched the scene in “Pretty Woman” where Julia Roberts is turned down by the snooty sales lady. She’s brave for a minute and then she starts crying “but...I have money, he gave me all this money!” She cries and you are sad for her because even with the money, she’s still broke. And that’s the way I felt yesterday leaving yet another car dealership, because to them regardless of my job or how much cash I have in my pocket, I’m still broke poor ass Leslie.

Granted I made some credit mistakes, but I paid all those mistakes off. Every penny. Most of them two or three years ago. Does anybody care except me?! NO.

For those of you who have great credit. Go and read another entry. This blog does not pertain to you. Buy a Volkswagon Tourag and tell me how great it handles and how sweet your blue tooth technology is. I’m sure you can afford On-Star and if that’s the case you can drive to my house and pick my broke ass up. My current car isn’t nearly as cool as your tourag anyways.

So to all you first time auto buyers with not so good credit, or no credit buying a car let me give you some insight on the real tip.

1. If the dealer starts off with “we don’t make deals here, the price is the price.” Then leave. Right there. If they don’t wanna take off any money at all, or at least pretend that there is a possibility then they don’t really wanna sell that f**ker.

2. If you have some money saved up for a massive down payment don’t tell them until after they show you your payments without that down payment. Dealers will hike up the price of the car even more just to steal your massive down payment. You don’t really need interior paint sealant or cup holders in your trunk! Do you??

3. Take alot of people with you, especially if you are a girl. A big burly man type or someone conveying power could work to your advantage. Small people are easy marks. You are less likely to be hearded from room to room alone and goaded into feeling like you have to buy the car or your life will end. Nobody wants to buy a Fiat or a Daewoo, don’t be tricked into it.

4. Throw your payment estimator out the window. An 11k car is really 12,500 after tax, title, licensing and.......after that financing...that car is really 17k. The only number that means something is your APR --- get that rate from the dealer and if that start at anything over 12 then you are in essence tacking on at least 5-9k extra on to the price of that car.

APR is everything. If your credit score is under 620 - dealerships can go as high as 20 but.....they can go as low as 12. They can DO it. I’ve seen it done twice.

5. If your current car runs, go right now fill it up with gas and thank it for driving you and your compatriots around all the time. Not everybody has a car, and while status doesn’t mean everything - motility means ALOT.

May 16, 2006

Yay, radio?

I was just sitting here in the old basement, sort of blowing off going to bed, and yes, admittedly checking myspace for one last time. Somehow I got to fumbling with music, and was inspired by Hench's changing of songs to change my own.

I kind of felt like Soul Coughing, so I went to find some. I chose "Sugar Free Jazz", and even though I've heard it seventy-eleven billion times, I decided to sit and give it a spin; maybe play a game of Snood or two. When the song was over, I wasn't over music, so I clicked on over to my bro's myspace page as I know he has another favorite Soul Coughing song on his page, "True Dreams of Witchita". And when THAT song was over, I still needed some music. So I clicked on my handy Yahoo! Widget Engine icon, and turned on my SIRIUS Satellite Radio Tuner widget.

To my initial chagrin, my favorite station, Left of Center, was playing the MC Lars (pictured here) Show. MC Lars is a self-proclaimed "geek rapper", quasi-famous for such songs as "iGeneration" and "Signing Emo". Sounds cute, right? So why the chagrin? While I sort of enjoy these little songs for their snarky commentary on pop culture; it's not real music, it's novelty, and I came to my Sirius tuner this evening for some HITS to sing while I futilely try to beat my sister's Snood score.

But something odd happened---or rather, is happening. Because you see, friends, it is currently 10:46PM. WAY past my bedtime. Or at least I should be in bed right now watching General Hospital, and already starting to feel the effects of my Tylenol PMs. But nooooo. I'm sitting here actually listening to a radio show (that isn't Howard Stern), waiting to see what this guy is going to play next.

So far, a sample playlist:

  • Alice in Chains, Would
  • Weezer, The Sweater Song
  • Soul Coughing (!), Circles
  • Public Enemy, Bring the Noise
  • NWA, Fuck the Police
  • The Ramones, Sheena is a Punk Rocker
  • Rusted Root, Send Me on My Way
  • Hilary Duff, Fly
  • Weird Al Yankovic, Amish Paradise
  • Nirvana, Come as You Are
  • Rob Base, It Takes Two
Yeah, Hilary Duff is whack, but you see my point. It's actual variety, and I actually enjoyed listening to the radio. It's sort of endearing when you know someone actually chose those songs, and chose them to play in that order. Working in radio, the act of actually "doing radio", that is getting the music to the people, is so clinical. Songs are ranked according to some consultant's opinion, and will get rotation based on that rank. Or something like that. I don't know for sure, as I'm not a programmer, but you get the point. It's a totally joyless process concerning one of the things that brings the most joy to the most people---music.

I'ma admit it right here, I don't have a conclusion for this rather meandering blog; and now I kinda want to find out if the brain surgery Dr. Drake illegally performed on Sam will actually save her life, thus vindicating her mobster boyfriend, or further fueling the wrath of her newly-discovered mother, Alexis.

May 5, 2006

Profiles in Dopeness: Rufus the Cat

We've been so serious around here. I thought we could use some fluff.

So I thought I'd profile a very important entity in my life; Rufus the cat.

I accquir
ed this gentleman on a summer weekend trip to Wildwood, NJ in 2002
when I still lived in Virginia. My friend Nicole's sister Jackie had encountered a family of cats on a misty late-night Cape May County road, huddled together in a box in the middle of the street.

Looking to unload some of these 6 new family memb
ers, Nicole asked if I'd consider taking one home with me. After carefully interviewing all six, I settled on this handsome boy; as he was the one who seemed to like me the most and he had a pretty awesome white diamond on his forehead.

Rufus got his name because on the long, hot drive back to Virginia in the old Lincoln Town Car, we listened to Rufus Wainwright. My mom had put some bottled water in the freezer for the ride home, and Rufus spooned one of the frozen-solid bottles for the better part of the 4 hour trip trying to say cool.

Among Rufus' chief interests are sleeping, grooming the other cats, lounging, posing, and caterwauling in the kitchen late at night.

He often "kills" pears or apples that he has hunted down on the kitchen counter, and presents them as tokens of his affection; and generally enjoys knocking anything off of the counter.

When the world is getting to be a bit too much for Rufus, he retires to a kitchen or bathroom cabinet for undisclosed stretches of time; and upon his exit from said cabinets Rufus is the most non-challant fella on the block. Even if you're in th
e middle of a fancy dinner party.

Lest you think Rufus is nothing more than a selfish layabout, I assure you, he loves his fellow cat. When he first came home with me, we had another male cat, Tigger. There was no growling/posturing between
Rufus & Tigger. They were pals straight away, and remained inseparable until my Mom had to move, and the boys were split up. In that fateful car ride back to New Jersey, Rufus and Tigger washed and comforted eachother until they were ripped apart. Tigger now lives with my brother Butch, Rufus came home with my sister and I. Rufus has tried to forge relationships with subsequent cat-roommates, but he mostly gets abuse from them. But still, he is a lover, and he tries to wash them and protects them from the beastly dog, Uma.