Life without a car in Southern California IS NOT WORTH LIVING

A couple of weeks shy of a year ago, the car I used to get me from point A to point B was rudely ripped away from me. We don't have to point fingers, but the perpetrator of this was Kalman, who shall hereafter be referred to as Kalman the Kar Krasher, which shortens to KKK. (Coincidence? I THINK NOT).

If I had magical powers and I could inflict on KKK the inconvenience and annoyance he's inadvertently created for me, I would do the following:

ALA Tess in Roswell, I would create for KKK the illusion of having a car, of driving on the 101 North 85...er...65 mph in sunny weather, with Santa Ana winds, and with the once in a blue moon good song playing on some radio station. THEN, I would suddenly have the car illusion taken away and he would find himself standing in the middle of the freeway with all the cars barreling towards him 100 mph. Which, considering it's the 101 North would seem highly unlikely since I've never driven on it when I've got to go over 45 mph, but this is all just a dream anyway.

So since I've been home, I've been living it up. I have vacuumed the same 12x10 square of carpet about 13 times, and then the workers come back and then, hold the presses, EVERY BLESSED DAY they decide to sprinkle fine dust over it again by, say, gutting out the wall or sawing down the molding. In addition to the 12x10 area of carpet, I've also got to vacuum the entirety of the second floor 3 times [2 times with the shitty vacuum, 1 time with the Brand! New! Oreck! Vacuum! (with which vacuuming is fun again!) which deserves an entire post dedicated to its incredibly confusing instruction manual].

Waaaaaaaa, waaaa, waaaaaaaaaaaa. I am spoiled rotten. Waaaaaaaaaaa, waaa, waaaaaaaaaaaaa. All I do is complain.

So I'll end this post with a few messages:

To All Those "Desperate Housewives" Characters Suddenly Inhabiting My Street: Those coordinating velvet sweat suits that MIGHT be brand name DO NOT MAKE YOU LOOK YOUNGER. OR CHIC-ER. In fact, the puke gold color one the 40+ year old lady living across the street makes her butt look decidedly saggy.

To Shikha: Even though I don't really talk to you online, I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU TOMORROW. I hardly talk to anyone online anymore. I mostly talk to my roommates on AIM, and frequently we're in the same room IM-ing each other, which is actually kind of sad.

To The Whole World: FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG.