Girassol

They're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone

I live in a historic house that predates the Civil War.  It's charming and quaint, sure.  It's also old enough that certain modern conveniences, like air conditioning, are out of the question.  The house is not built for it.  Not even for a window unit, as the electrical wiring won't support it.  So during the dog days of a Pennsylvania summer (90°and 69% humidity at lunchtime yesterday), I pull out the fans and sweat it out. I also live downtown on a street that gets enough traffic to send a good coating of dust through my windows daily.  The front wall of my house is right on the sidewalk, and with the windows open it is downright loud most of the time. I've gotten quite good at tuning out the dust, heat, and noise, and going about my business. 

Sometimes, though, things happen out on the street that I would never be aware of if I didn't live in this old house with the windows open, and it feels like the universe has just sent me a treat.  Like this morning.  I'm sitting at my desk, checking my e-mail, when I become aware that the traffic outside has stopped at the red light, and I can hear loud music blasting from someone's car.  Normally it's rap with the bass turned up so loudly that my windows rattle, or Nickelback.  The people in my traffic are exceedingly fond of Nickelback.  But this morning?  Billy Joel.  Specifically, the song "Piano Man."  Accompanied by some driver who is singing along with reckless abandon.  In a Jetta, with the windows down.  He's sitting at a red light, singing a Billy Joel song with his head thrown back and his eyes closed.  Singing badly.

You know the saying, "Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like no one's watching."  I'm going to add to it, "Sing like no one is listening."  Because that just made my whole morning.  Jetta Dude, we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feelin' alright.

The Paris Hilton of the motorcycle world

Every summer, my town hosts a Bike Week, which is when something like 15,000 Harley-Davidsons meet here, cruise around on their choppers and participate in tattoo contests.  When I first moved in, I was nervous that it would be rough and scary, but it's actually a very community-friendly event, and the bikers are some of the nicest, friendliest people I've seen come through here.  Yet, they've still got that tough exterior thing going on.

So last night I'm driving downtown, and as I stop at a stoplight, I hear a dog yipping at me. I turn my head left to see what's going on, and there's a dude on a Harley (totally tricked out, with a trailer and custom everything), with his sleeves rolled up and his boots and his American flag doo-rag and stubble and everything.  And he's holding a tiny, fluffy bichon frise ON HIS LAP. And the dog is wearing a doo-rag and motorcycle goggles.

Awesome!

Reasons why I love Sheetz

1.  The ham Schmiscuit, with double egg, mayo, mustard, ketchup, sliced tomato, salt, pepper, and Swiss cheese.

2.  It's a Mecca of linguistic hilariousness.

        2a.  It provides a way to tell locals from out-of-towners.  We southern Pennsylvanians have the habit of calling it "Sheetzes" -- as in "Welcome to Sheetzes, pump two's on."  You don't call it Sheetzes?  You are definitely not from around here.

        2b.  This morning they had these stars hanging on the counter that represented donations to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. One donor had wished to remain anonymous, only on the star it was spelled, "Annoumys."  If I spelled that poorly, I would remain annoumys too.

3.  The blue-collar dudes who stop in there periodically throughout the day to pick up two things:
    
        3a.  A pack of Marlboros.

        3b.  Me. 

This morning when I arrived at Sheetz a guy opened the door for me, while holding his pack of Marlboros in the other hand.  He was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped out, and had a tattoo of a skull on his shin.  When I thanked him, he answered, "No problem, sweetheart."  Then his eyes followed my ample booty the entire way back to the juice refrigerators. 

Yesssss!  Someone thinks I'm hot!  Or, perhaps, someone is very lonely!    

ppl r so funny lol :-)

So this morning I got a message from my phone saying memory was running low and I should delete some messages.  While reading through everything stored in my phone, I found some texts that made me laugh.  If they don't make you laugh, go read these because her friends are funnier than mine.

I'm in class and i just peed off the top of a mountain.

I have a retarded boss.

Fyi i was singing about throngs today & thought u would b interested :P

I'm on my way to the snow palace!

Don't be such a curmudgeon.

She leaves Tues. and we're gonna hang out a couple more times.  Get a little more action!

Omg!  You r the math grandmaster!

Hey, M doesn't have your bikini trimmers.

I miss you and my wardrobe does too.

D and H broke up.  We should do something for him like get him a voodoo doll and ice cream.

I'm single again.  But everything's ok and I won't throw rocks at her!

Rolling stones tonite.  seats close enuf to squeez mcjaggers bum.  also free.

I have coloring books for the boys but I will be in canada on sat.

I am getting seriously hit on by a waiter at montezuma.  Help!

Down with the pig tie!

I'm gonna be a half blind freak, yahoo!

So is it motorific?  Have you seen any hot mullets?

Black suit.

she doesnt know.  Shes sleeping

Can't talk.  I'm at a marching band competition.

You wanted to get a shave with a straight edge razor.

What constitutes a mountain?  Call me.

I just found a piece of paper where you wrote ride a double decker bus so put that on your list ok?

Today i passed a restaurant called the red horse steak house and anvil bar, whatever that is... Naturally i thought of you!

The Devil Went Down to PA

Satan is apparently a registered driver in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  Be on the lookout.  He drives a green Dodge Caravan.

U.S. Currency, Incognito

Tonight I stopped by my local Dairy Queen to try out the new Key Lime Pie Blizzard (delish).  I happened to have cash on me, so I handed over a crisp new $20 bill to the girl behind the counter.  She took it, laid it down on the counter, pulled out a pen and drew a moustache on Andrew Jackson, and deposited the bill into the register as if this were the most normal way in the world to handle money.

That just made my entire day.

Dear women of suburbia,

It's time we had a little vocabulary lesson. 

These are NOT gauchos.







These ARE gauchos.




Culottes by any other name are still culottes.  Let's just put this little fad behind us, shall we?  The Argentine cowboys called and they really, REALLY want their pants back.  I mean, it's winter down there.  Cut the hombres some slack already.

Muchas gracias,
Audrey

What We Might See If the BYU Dress and Grooming Standards Applied to ALL Members of the Animal Kingdom:

The Great Iceblocking Mystery of 2005

My New Year's Resolution this year is to do something I've never done before during every month of this year.  So last night I met my goal for May by going iceblocking.  Basically you slide down a hill on a 10-lb. block of ice, eventually get too scared to keep sliding, and roll head over heels until you crash into something and then lug the ice back up the hill and do it again and again.  This way you can still go sledding when there is no snow, and it really was great fun! 

I personally had never heard of iceblocking in my life before moving to Utah, and a couple of friends from the East Coast said they hadn't either.  I have my suspicions that it's a Utah invention.  Or possibly a Utah Mormon "creative dating" invention, much like eating a picnic on a highway median strip or asking someone to a dance via a personalized scavenger hunt.  Everyone I grew up with in Pennsylvania was too busy stealing lawn ornaments and getting high in the woods to think up stuff as wholesome and inoffensive as iceblocking.

Call it an informal, unscientific study on the origins of iceblocking: I want to know where you grew up and if you ever heard of or went iceblocking there.  I need to get to the bottom of this mystery.