I was snagged by a totally unfair speeding trap last year and ever since, I have been procrastinating to take my defensive driving course. But alas, my time has run out and I have to take my proverbial spanking before I take a beating in court for failure to deliver my certificate of authenticity as a reformed driver.
I might be in for some rocky road when navigating the test considering I make judgment calls to the law, when I feel it is not in my best interest to obey them. For instance, I believe its moronic to stay for an entire red light when I am the only car in sight, so after I have made a complete stop, evaluate safety conditions, and see no copper in sight , I go through the light. Afterward, I make peace with myself, justifying my decision based on the eco-friendly mindset that an idling car at 2 AM, when the atmosphere, in my time zone, is more susceptible to poisonous and unnecessary exhaust.
Anything I can do to help the planet, is in all our best interest.
I wonder if i can argue that in court, if I ever get caught?
Driving with a perfect license gets you kudos with no one but if you slide a bit on the law and get caught, you are rewarded with a 10% discount on your insurance when faxing them the safety course certificate minus the infraction ticket. Lets face it, no one takes the course unless they are forced into it.
At least I will be able to drink and drive my way through this long road to redemption.
The Blonde is in for a long haul!!
3.21.2009
3.19.2009
Parents Are Away, Time To Play
My parents come home from the camping trip I supposedly orchestrated myself out of to house sit and have decadent parties, or so they think.
It does not matter how old you are, when you are under your parents roof, for whatever reason, you are a horny teenager looking to get into trouble.
When they arrive home:
My Mother will inevitably search the house for signs of guests. She will see the beach towel I placed on one of the porch chairs and think it was from a late night scrub and rub in the hot tub, when in actuality, I put it their because one of the cats took a tinkle on it. And even though I cleaned it with tilex, I didn't want to sit directly on it.
My father will head directly for the downstairs bar and wine cellar, which he locked, to check for sign of break ins. And even when he doesn't find signs of knife wounds and pb and j on the door jam, he will count his stock of dusty wines.
They will interrogate my cats, looking for doped up eyes and signs of frolicking feline paw prints on carpets throughout the house. They will search for mounds of fur balls on beds, sofas, and fresh laundry.
Because I was bored, I did the laundry and cleaned the house but the neuroses of my parents will inevitably have them view this as a sad attempt at hiding the remnants of a Bacchus wine party.
They will even go as far as seeing this post as further evidence to my cover up.
So, I must confess:
I doped up the cats and let them loose in the house
Broke into the wine cellar with a cheese knife
Drank the chateau margaux and replaced it with cherry koolaid and recorked the bottles
Partied naked in the hot tub with AIG execs
Ordered call girls and male strippers on the Amex card
and I hired a full cleaning staff to hide the evidence.
As a teenager, I would have just ordered a keg and hit up myspace friends but I am older now and not the teenager my parents still think I am.
Blondes are all grown up now!!
It does not matter how old you are, when you are under your parents roof, for whatever reason, you are a horny teenager looking to get into trouble.
When they arrive home:
My Mother will inevitably search the house for signs of guests. She will see the beach towel I placed on one of the porch chairs and think it was from a late night scrub and rub in the hot tub, when in actuality, I put it their because one of the cats took a tinkle on it. And even though I cleaned it with tilex, I didn't want to sit directly on it.
My father will head directly for the downstairs bar and wine cellar, which he locked, to check for sign of break ins. And even when he doesn't find signs of knife wounds and pb and j on the door jam, he will count his stock of dusty wines.
They will interrogate my cats, looking for doped up eyes and signs of frolicking feline paw prints on carpets throughout the house. They will search for mounds of fur balls on beds, sofas, and fresh laundry.
Because I was bored, I did the laundry and cleaned the house but the neuroses of my parents will inevitably have them view this as a sad attempt at hiding the remnants of a Bacchus wine party.
They will even go as far as seeing this post as further evidence to my cover up.
So, I must confess:
I doped up the cats and let them loose in the house
Broke into the wine cellar with a cheese knife
Drank the chateau margaux and replaced it with cherry koolaid and recorked the bottles
Partied naked in the hot tub with AIG execs
Ordered call girls and male strippers on the Amex card
and I hired a full cleaning staff to hide the evidence.
As a teenager, I would have just ordered a keg and hit up myspace friends but I am older now and not the teenager my parents still think I am.
Blondes are all grown up now!!
3.17.2009
Pavlov's Theory Applied to Blondes
Ali Abu owns one of the many gas stations I use around town to buy my Nat Sherman Fantasias. For those that do not take pride in the art of smoking, Fantasias are crayon colored smoke delights with a gold tip, no junk added beyond natural cancer causing agents, and cost around $9 for a gold scribed box.
I used to average 1 to 2 cigarettes on the weekends with a glass of wine until I tried the nicorette patch, way above my level, which gave me nightmares and an increased craving for my colorful chick sticks. I am now up to 3 to 4, with my wine, and have decided to go cold turkey one day in the near future. Considering I inch closer to the mirror every morning to check for lines induced by obsessive paranoia inflicted on me by beauty product propaganda, the day of smoke freedom is closing in fast. I would quit based on the cancer societies death toll ads but they are annoying and not as convincing as the Oil of Olay Skin Regenerist cream threats on aging skin.
Anyhoo...
Back at Ali Abu's, I use the self slide debit machine and for more than a year, the cashiers have had to reach over and help me finish my transaction.
Slide card
hit debit
enter secret code
and the Blonde waits for her receipt.
Meanwhile, the cashier must reach over the counter
hit the button for
cash back
No
button for
amount correct
Yes
waits for printing of receipt
and hands it to me.
Today, I actually completed the sales transaction all by myself.
Had the cashier just slapped my hand every time I prematurely ended the transaction...I would have learned sooner.
Blondes can learn new tricks!!
I used to average 1 to 2 cigarettes on the weekends with a glass of wine until I tried the nicorette patch, way above my level, which gave me nightmares and an increased craving for my colorful chick sticks. I am now up to 3 to 4, with my wine, and have decided to go cold turkey one day in the near future. Considering I inch closer to the mirror every morning to check for lines induced by obsessive paranoia inflicted on me by beauty product propaganda, the day of smoke freedom is closing in fast. I would quit based on the cancer societies death toll ads but they are annoying and not as convincing as the Oil of Olay Skin Regenerist cream threats on aging skin.
Anyhoo...
Back at Ali Abu's, I use the self slide debit machine and for more than a year, the cashiers have had to reach over and help me finish my transaction.
Slide card
hit debit
enter secret code
and the Blonde waits for her receipt.
Meanwhile, the cashier must reach over the counter
hit the button for
cash back
No
button for
amount correct
Yes
waits for printing of receipt
and hands it to me.
Today, I actually completed the sales transaction all by myself.
Had the cashier just slapped my hand every time I prematurely ended the transaction...I would have learned sooner.
Blondes can learn new tricks!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)