No Right Turn

I have a 1995 jaguar vanden plas, She is black, sleek, gorgeous and can't make right turns on account of the steering rack is shot all to heck and back. If you do make a right turn it can not be sharp and you have to straighten the wheel immediately before the steering fluid has a chance to leak out completely.

I have found a way to get around town without having to make right hand turns, which I think for Blonde, is quite an extraordinary feet. My preferred gas stations are all on the left hand side of the road. My grocery stores, dry cleaner and drug store are all left hand turns with large spaces to circle to the left to get back on the road.

I even plan my weekend evenings out and what bars and restaurants to attend based on my ability to travel left way. Even the valets dowtown know my cars plight and work around the left for me. they also know a jackson will hit their palm if i don;t hear screeching from an empty steering pump.

Its almost like writing a book without the letter E. The book Gadsby ( not to be confused with the 'Great Gatsby') is a 50,000 word novel written by Ernest Vincent Wright, without once using the the letter 'E'.

I am calculating my mileage and I think I can drive for at least another 2,000 miles without turning right, because quite frankly that is how long it will take to find a replacement steering rack under $2 grand.

I could give up my car and buy a new one but quite frankly I love her. She rides like glass and no one would put up with her idiosyncrasies the way I do. We are both a bit high maintenance and have worked out our differences. The other day, just to be nice, she actually lighted the stereo and clock for me out of the blue.

She hasn't done that since last year.

And when I wash her, she actually allows me to play the CD player for a few days before going on the fritz.

She has 129,000 miles on her but she is a Tuesday car. A Tuesday car is the one that will always be true to you. If you look on the inside of the door and you will see the code that can be looked up on the web to see what day it was built. Never buy a Monday car, because the workers are hungover from the weekend, and never, never buy a car built on Friday, because the workers at the plant have already checked out mentally way before they punch the time sheet.

Since I am Blonde and go for style more than function, I have to be careful when picking out my cars but I am not.

My Triumph was definitely a Friday car and she was in love with my mechanic, she spent more time with him than me. The Range Rover was a bit dodgy being a Thursday car, it hated red lights and would kill its engine in disgust ay every one.

My Saab convertible is a Wendesday car. She is unhappy that fat Sophie uses her canvas top as a hammock and now refuses to go down without a bit of a shove. I don't drive her because Boo took her off to college to impress the other girls.

God just puts these cars somewhere with a sale sign in the window and I fall in love at first sight. It has been that way for all my cars and I always hold on to them longer than I should.

But what can I say.

The Blonde is a romantic at heart!!

Blonde Momment 473

I was running late to meet the Captain for margs.

I got in my car, started it up, and pulled out of the driveway.

All of the sudden, I saw smoke surrounding my car.

Great, just frecking great!!

My engine blew!!

As a tallied around to the corner to go back into the driveway, I noticed the smoke was all over the road!

It was precipitation; also known as dew, fog, vapors, and the smokey stuff that ruins a blonde's hairstyle!!

Fine!!!

I admit, I am not perfect, while alive.

But, I am still holding out for the saint dooh-hickey award thingy from the pope when I croak.


The Blonde was in a fog!!!

But only briefly!!

I Am Offically Reformed

but unofficially, after 6 hours of driver's rehab online, I am going back to my old habits. I guess I don't feel my minor law infractions warrant a full sobriety from speeding. I rarely go over 4, 5, OK...maybe 10 in the city....but I only hit 15 over signage on the highway during really long trips. But in my defense, this is Texas, there is a lot of ugly country and roadkill to speed through on my way to a city landscape.

I missed 4 questions on the video part because I didn't bother to watch the videos and the trick questions got me. I missed only two on the written part, but again I didn't bother to read that either.

I already know the law.

How else would I know when to dart my eyes around looking for the boys in blue before I break one?

Duh!!

I will have to say, I am amazed how the test actually validated me as a considerate and more than decent driver. I passed my driving rehab with flying colors.

Where is my key chain?!!

And now that I know I am a reborn again and a better driver than everyone else, I want to host intervention parties for the zillions of people that refuse to admit they suck at road courtesy which by the way, made up for a third of the entire test.

Here is a little test to see if you need driver's anonymous:


Do you stop at the on ramp because you can't accelerate and navigate, at the same time, to get on the highway?

Do you play secret traffic cop driving the speed limit in the left left lane and not allowing others to pass?

Do you put the cell phone to your ear before shifting in reverse out of your parking space?


Don't even think about saying, "NO" you liar!!

I am no saint, but the Pope should think about making me one after this test!!

I'm kidding!

I cant be a saint until I am dead!!

And considering how bad most of the drivers I share the road with are....that title could come quicker than I want!!

(Excuse me while I knock on wood)


I will admit to one unsaintly act on the road"

I cut very inconsiderate drivers off! But only after they really, really, really deserved it.
Had they taken the time to check in their rear view mirror and realize tailgating is a polite form of saying get the @#$%@#$!! out of the left lane, you $#@$$%#&&*# , I would never need to pull my pedal punch. But as the christians say, "There is a devil, at ever corner, waiting to tempt you into sin."

I just didn't realize it meant, literally, every street corner!

Blondes don't like being driven crazy on the road!!

Defensive Driving Online

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!!

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!!

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!!

Happy Pi Day

HapPy St. PaTricks DaY