maybe a seat-purse would have been better?

holy engine, does the freaking seat belt in my freaking car annoy the freaking crap out of me.

apparently, the car makers of america think im short right along with the kitchen cabinet makers of america. so, aside from the fact that i cannot reach anything ever, the stupid seat belt in my darn car is basically slicing through my neck every time i drive anywhere.

im too short for it to sit at the right angle, so instead it just slides right from my chest to below my ear. and then i push it back. and then it slides again.


732 times. ish.

look. right there. under my chin. see it? that’s the beginning stages of a bruise. im telling you. it is. well, that, or newspaper ink.

and sometimes, i give in and place the belt behind my seat. but then i worry that 1. a cop will pull me over and cite me for some sort of technicality in the Illinois’ seat belt law prohibiting me from doing that, resulting in a $562 fine

or 2. i will get in a tragic accident involving a deer, a semi and a motorcycle and then my body will be sliced in half along my lower abdomen because im only wearing half a seat belt and somehow that half of the seat belt is laying in such a way that it can cut through my skin and bones and organs.

so i put it back over my chest.

and then it rides up under my neck.

and then i cry.

while we’re on the topic of cars, let’s also talk about how the headlights on every SUV in america sit so that they hit my driver-side mirror and blind me every night, a problem i fear will one day hinder my ability to see important things.

like stop signs, bicyclists or oncoming traffic.

adjusting the mirror does not help. i’ve tried.

basically, what im telling you is, i drive around every night squinting my eyes while a seat belt slices into my neck. and maybe if you want to stay off the roads around 11, 11:30 p.m. that’d be cool.

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have a nice life

my friend tom loewy has stopped talking to me. which, i suppose kind of means we’re not really friends any more.

it’s been like 2 months. fine. 5 months. what? fine. i haven’t talked to him much since october.

but he’s the kind of friend you just cling to with dear life because you want need him to be part of your existence.

and so, i’ve kept calling him. and texting him. and e-mailing him. and you can bet your bottom dollar that if he had facebook i’d be stalking him there too.

but he doesn’t. that’s not how he rolls. in fact, my understanding is, the whole idea of a cell phone is a pretty new concept for him.

and once in awhile, he’ll answer. or reply. or text back. and that ends up being enough hope to inspire me to call him like five times the next day.

like a crazy person. i mean. well, im pretty sure HE wouldn’t call me a crazy person, because he’s too cool for that. instead, i’d guess he just chalks it up to the fact that’s he’s so awesome. as far as he’s concerned, it only makes logical sense that i would stalk him.

my fried evila was not a crazy person.

she used to work with me at the wal-mart service desk, where we would spend our days getting yelled at by people who wanted their $5.10 back for that pair of shoes they bought a YEAR ago, that no longer fit their five-year-old son.

sigh. those were the days.

and just for fun we used to mix up the things we’d say to people at the end of transactions. like around Easter, I’d be all ‘have a happy holidays” with an s. just to see if anyone noticed. and then in Jan. 2000, she’d say “have a happy millennium.”

we were so cool.

then one day she got it in her head to say “have a nice life” to all the customers. and the thing was, she genuinely meant it. day was WAY too short, she thought. why not wish people a nice life. love, happiness, prosperity, pretty hair. those things take WAY more than a nice day.

only people didn’t get that. they were too jaded and thought she was being sarcastic. and i sh*t you not, she got in trouble over it because customers started complaining to management. which was such crap. and so, she gave up. and we both just went back to “have a nice day”

now im giving up on tom loewy. im not going to be a crazy person anymore. im not going to call him 30 times a day. im not going to call him even one time a day.

im going to let it be.

i just hope he’s out there somewhere having a nice life.

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a trip to the car doctor

fine. whatever. i finally went to get a stupid, lame oil change.

i know. i should have gotten it like 7,000 miles ago. I KNOW. leave me alone. paying for car-anything sucks. i hate paying for car crap with all my heart. we should all just be happy that i manage to fill it up with gas on a regular basis. ok?

so ya, since i finally took my lovely green escourt to the car doctor, i knew it was time to talk about THE SOUND.

some have thought it was a space ship. some have thought it was a tornado siren. some have thought my car was actually talking. (hi april).

it’s been making this weird high-pitched flute-like noise, for oh, umm, about a year or so. no seriously. a year.

and i’ve just been going around ignoring it while turning up my radio. but now summer is here again, and i keep rolling down my window. and then, of course, i can hear it. and well, i was told yesterday that it would actually be much, much worse if say my car just up and died on me,  then it would be to pay whatever it costs to fix it, so i really need to get it fixed asap, and well, when you put it that way. fine.

so i asked the mechanics to check it out. and then one of them realized that the noise was coming from my oil dip stick, which was hitting something because of a crazy suction problem. and im not going to lie, i kind of thought this was funny.

the mechanic did NOT think this was funny.

and he explained to me that it was being caused because of some weird air pattern from my engine.

and i asked him how bad it was, like was my car going to blow up?

and he said, very seriously, that he did not know. but it could.

and that i NEED to get it looked at by a dealer like yesterday. but then, he went and jimmy rigged it, so it doesn’t make that noise anymore.

me in my head: cool. it’s fixed.

him. reading my thoughts: it is NOT fixed.

me in my head: whatever, i’ll just get it looked at some day.

him. reading my thoughts agian: do NOT wait to get this looked at. in fact. you should drive it directly to the dealer right now.

me in my head,( this time smiling at him, like ‘silly boy, im not going to do that’): ya. that’s not going to happen.

him. using his telepathy power again: no. SERIOUSLY. GET THIS CHECKED NOW.

instead i drove back to work, then home.  and i plan to repeat tomorrow.

if you get some weird phone call at 11:27 p.m. tomorrow, please answer. there’s a good chance my car just died on route 14.

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