confusion

Must sleep now… 24 strait hours at work… but a taste of whats to come when I get time to write it: Three Amigos—Sherman, Flugie and Beggs in DC! Flat hunt: done! Truck: dead! Anyway, whatever, I’ll write when I can keep my eyes open… Buona notte…

Tomorrow C██████ will get on a plane at Dulles and head off to her new life in Germany. Living with her fiance and teaching English and American Culture to ‘zee Garmons.’

Since the summer of 2000 C██████ and I have been companions in our journeys. Some times more than friends and some times less than friends, but whether the path was rocky or smooth it has been one of the most important journeys in my life.

I don’t suppose I will see C██████ for a very long time and knowing how bad she is at the whole email thing I don’t suppose I will hear from here so often. But I wish her the best of luck, with Germany, with teaching and most of all with Sebastian. Ich liebe Dich und viel Glueck!

Oh god. I left work tonight at 8:40ish. I stopped at the gas station because I was really low on gas. Really low. 19.4 gallons in a 20 gallon tank! So I filled up the tank and got into the truck. I turned the key and buckled my seat belt. I released the break and grabbed the gear shift. About this time I am thinking to myself. “Hey, I thought I started the engine?” Ok, turn the car on. I don’t know how to write the sounds the engine made but the truck was trying it’s hardest to play like it was in a gangster rap video. “No! You foul filth filth foul thingie! If you don’t start—I’ll kill ya. If you break down—I’ll kill ya. If you cost me money—I’ll kill ya. If I have to postpone my vacation to England and seeing C███████—I’ll kill ya! And if you don’t understand all this—I’ll kill ya!”

–skip calling of towing truck, pushing truck out of main part of gas station and thirty minutes of waiting–

Just for fun I tried to start it again and this time it started. Kinda. Ok, give it some gas when you start it. “Yes!” Boom, klunk, rattle! “No. Almost” It did start, it bucked a few more times. But I think it was just a really bad vapor lock. Good, good, good. “You can live!”

Oh yea, sorry to the tow truck driver. He called after I was almost home looking for me. But they did not give me a number when I called him for the tow. I’d feel bad, but, oh no wait he’ll get over it. I can’t afford to be towed.

Go here [ reuters.com ] and read the story. It’s bad when your so drunk you fall down during the sobriety test but your dog is so well trained that he can do everything the police officer says.

…the Toronto-based Fatal Light Awareness Program, estimates that 100 million songbirds collide with lit buildings in North America each year…”

I probably shouldn’t be laughing at that, but I just have visions of large numbers of bird suddenly crashing into corporate headquarters around the world! Can you imagine some fat smug CEO sitting in his 80th floor office, looking out over Manhattan while he drinks his half-cap skinny latte when suddenly a mass of nightingales slams into his window. Coffee everywhere as he looks on in horror at the beady little bird eyes slide down the window to their deaths… I’m just sick.

The quote is from this article [ www.discover.com ]