Stories My Blog Photos Links About me

2001-05-22

My Car is dying! Let's sing about it.

Drove to work today in my sister�s car, mine almost died on the freeway yesterday. That would have sucked, I don�t have my cell phone anymore (death to the electronic leash!), I would have been stranded in the middle of the freeway, laughing hysterically, because at that point, what else am I to do? It�s not like I�m going to walk a mile in heels or run across the freeway, hoping not to get hit. Remind me to tell the story about the time I DID get stranded on the freeway, running in heels, looking like I was attacked by a bear with disheveled hair and torn nylons, tripping over a dead dog, laughing and crying at the same time and screaming at a bum all before I made it to the phone. Yes, do remind me.

So I�ve known this was coming, and I need to get my ass in gear and work on getting a new car like NOW. Told my sister, �Bitch, you best give me yo� car, I gotsa get to work and you don�t needsa go nowhere!� She didn�t give in too easily. I dodged expletives and comments like, �I need to go down to Mom�s and do a wash! I don�t want to be stranded!� I told her, you�re not gonna be stranded! Take MY car! Heh heh. Yeah. I told her it was better if my car broke down while SHE was driving it, because she had the time to handle that kind of situation, whereas I just have way too many things going on, so it�s obvious I need to take hers.

Hey, it made sense to me, okay? That�s all that matters. So, I drove to work in her car, love the fact that she has a CD player. I brought the pathetic CD collection that I have. For such an eclectic person, it�s a sin how limited my selection is. If you were to look at my case, you�d think �angry lesbian.� It�s filled with Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, Indigo Girls, Alanis Morissette, and speckled with trendy shit like the Chemical Brothers, Moby, anything they play at coffee shops and thrift stores. Really sad. Because that�s only a small fraction of the music I enjoy. I need to go shopping. Anyway, this morning it was the Makem & Clancy Collection: Irish Folk Music. I LOVE Irish Folk Music. So heartfelt, so depressing. You�d think someone wouldn�t want to listen to something that depressed them, but this is a different kind of depressing. They sing about real shit, every song tells a story. A boy dying in the war, a love lost, and they�re not all sad, you know. There are happy, fast, upbeat songs, you can hear them tapping their feet and clapping their hands, and in my mind I see them jumping and laughing out every word.

Anyway, point is, I was singing along (with my Irish accent that suddenly appears when I sing Irish folk music � don�t ask), and I just got so involved with every song. (NO, still not PMS, it�s possible for a woman to be emotional and not on the rag you know, you insensitive prick� I�m sorry! I didn�t mean it! [it�s also possible for us to be capricious and change our minds for no reason at all, this was in the package deal when we accepted that whole �childbirth� thing]) I caught a woman at a bus stop (I hate red lights when I�m singing in the car) looking at me when I was wiping a tear from the corner of my eye (I have to speak publicly today, can�t have running makeup) and singing �Never knew there were worse things than dyinnnnnnn�!� Oh, to be an objective observer of myself someday. I wonder what these people must think.

Got to work, and here I am, all filled with Irish Folk words reverberating within me, resonating in my head. Watch me get to this class of people and just start informing them of our next big account with an Irish accent (a horribly inaccurate Irish accent, despite my Irish heritage and the fact that I have family still there in the homeland). I�m in a good mood right now. I�m gonna hold on to this feeling for a little while. And while I�m driving to do my presentation, I�ll sing about poor Willie McBride, who was only 19 when he died.

-Barbarella

previous | next

2007-05-19
NEW SITE!!!!

2007-05-16
Links and Update

2007-05-09
Two Links

2007-05-06
Yes, Even MORE new pictures

2007-05-06
Mizz Asshole

Copyright � 2004 divabarbarella.com All Rights Reserved about me - read my profile! read other DiaryLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!


San Diego Bloggers

Subscribe to BarbarellasBookClub
Powered by groups.yahoo.com
My Car is dying! Let's sing about it. 2001-05-22 8:43 a.m. Drove to work today in my sister�s car, mine almost died on the freeway yesterday. That would have sucked, I don�t have my cell phone anymore (death to the electronic leash!), I would have been stranded in the middle of the freeway, laughing hysterically, because at that point, what else am I to do? It�s not like I�m going to walk a mile in heels or run across the freeway, hoping not to get hit. Remind me to tell the story about the time I DID get stranded on the freeway, running in heels, looking like I was attacked by a bear with disheveled hair and torn nylons, tripping over a dead dog, laughing and crying at the same time and screaming at a bum all before I made it to the phone. Yes, do remind me.

So I�ve known this was coming, and I need to get my ass in gear and work on getting a new car like NOW. Told my sister, �Bitch, you best give me yo� car, I gotsa get to work and you don�t needsa go nowhere!� She didn�t give in too easily. I dodged expletives and comments like, �I need to go down to Mom�s and do a wash! I don�t want to be stranded!� I told her, you�re not gonna be stranded! Take MY car! Heh heh. Yeah. I told her it was better if my car broke down while SHE was driving it, because she had the time to handle that kind of situation, whereas I just have way too many things going on, so it�s obvious I need to take hers.

Hey, it made sense to me, okay? That�s all that matters. So, I drove to work in her car, love the fact that she has a CD player. I brought the pathetic CD collection that I have. For such an eclectic person, it�s a sin how limited my selection is. If you were to look at my case, you�d think �angry lesbian.� It�s filled with Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, Indigo Girls, Alanis Morissette, and speckled with trendy shit like the Chemical Brothers, Moby, anything they play at coffee shops and thrift stores. Really sad. Because that�s only a small fraction of the music I enjoy. I need to go shopping. Anyway, this morning it was the Makem & Clancy Collection: Irish Folk Music. I LOVE Irish Folk Music. So heartfelt, so depressing. You�d think someone wouldn�t want to listen to something that depressed them, but this is a different kind of depressing. They sing about real shit, every song tells a story. A boy dying in the war, a love lost, and they�re not all sad, you know. There are happy, fast, upbeat songs, you can hear them tapping their feet and clapping their hands, and in my mind I see them jumping and laughing out every word.

Anyway, point is, I was singing along (with my Irish accent that suddenly appears when I sing Irish folk music � don�t ask), and I just got so involved with every song. (NO, still not PMS, it�s possible for a woman to be emotional and not on the rag you know, you insensitive prick� I�m sorry! I didn�t mean it! [it�s also possible for us to be capricious and change our minds for no reason at all, this was in the package deal when we accepted that whole �childbirth� thing]) I caught a woman at a bus stop (I hate red lights when I�m singing in the car) looking at me when I was wiping a tear from the corner of my eye (I have to speak publicly today, can�t have running makeup) and singing �Never knew there were worse things than dyinnnnnnn�!� Oh, to be an objective observer of myself someday. I wonder what these people must think.

Got to work, and here I am, all filled with Irish Folk words reverberating within me, resonating in my head. Watch me get to this class of people and just start informing them of our next big account with an Irish accent (a horribly inaccurate Irish accent, despite my Irish heritage and the fact that I have family still there in the homeland). I�m in a good mood right now. I�m gonna hold on to this feeling for a little while. And while I�m driving to do my presentation, I�ll sing about poor Willie McBride, who was only 19 when he died.