Monthly Archives: April 2010

Look here


There they were, lined up on the back seat of my car.

I’d just picked up my car from the car wash.  You know how when they vacuum out your car, it doesn’t matter how clean you think your car is, they find a few overlooked items, dandruff of daily life.  And they set whatever the find neatly in a row on the backseat.

When I settled into the front seat, I threw a glance over my shoulder, started the car, and then I turned again and really saw what I’d just seen.  SHIT.

I think I need to change car washes.  Also, if anyone cares, I can absolutely explain each of these items individually.

A coil of soft white rope.  A small kitchen knife.  A box of condoms, torn open across the front.  A Sarah McLachlin cd.

Did you know Van Gogh used to paint still life as portraits?  A collection of objects to represent a person?  Not that that thought really helps.  I’m sure even Van Gogh would think I was nuts if he saw my backseat, and he cut his ear off.

Do you ever get caught up wondering what some stranger makes of a tangible sliver of your life?  Like your grocery reciept, or your pile of dry cleaning?

I probably spend too much time worrying about it.  The fellow that vaccumed my car has prolly seen much, much weirder things.  And most likely he didn’t stop vaccuuming long enough to really see the items he handled in conjuction with each other in any meaning ful sense.   The world out there is not as obsessed with me as I’d secretly like them to be.  Right?

But then I recall an order I put in a few years back.  I joined one of those cd clubs (remember buying cds?  Now everything is an iTunes download) and after buying the required amount, I put in one more order.  If you’d reviewed my complete order history, you’d get a feel for my eclectic taste, but if you were the shipping guy who had to package my last order of two cds, you might be a bit confused.  I know this because when I opened the box, in between Barry Manilow and 50Cent was a hand written note.

“This is the first time these two cds have ever been shipped together,” it read.

So I guess, sometimes, there’s someone paying attention.

Fast cars and girls.


So I just sold my old car on Craigslist.

What you see here is part of the payoff for a rather frustrating couple of days.  I got tons, TONS of responses, not even sure how many because I just started deleting every one that didn’t use punctuation.  I don’t have time for ALL CAPS MAN, either.

And the questions.  My God, the questions.  If I hadn’t sold it so quickly, I was going to add this to my ad.

Frequently Asked Questions.

No, I will not trade you for it’s worth in tattoos.  Tattoos are awesome, but I don’t think I’ll ever in my life get as much ink as the car is worth, and if I did, it’d be from an artist successful enough to afford his car.

Thanks for letting me know that for half my asking price you’ll “ask no questions about the title.”  I’ll save your email address in case I ever take up GRAND THEFT AUTO, and need an accomplice.

No, you may NOT break into the property where it’s stored and leave the money in the mailbox.  It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that …. no wait.  It IS that I don’t trust you.

Beginning your email with the announcement that you are pro-life does not affect the price of the car.  But you know what I can do for ya?  I can scratch MY bumper stickers off the car.  How’s that? 

Offering me half the value of the car on the spot to “save your precious time,” means you estimate my time as worth that of a very high-priced hooker.  Thanks.  Honestly.  But I’m not a high-priced hooker.  I am a very, very cheap Jew.

In the end, you’d be proud of me, kids.  I sold the car to a mechanic who went from calling me “little lady” and offering me two-thirds my price, to paying my asking price and offering me a job in his shop because I haggled so well.

I have no doubt that I’ve earned it …. somehow….


Yesterday I got a check in the mail, hand addressed, from the City of San Diego.

No explanation, no enclosed letter, nothing but an invoice number and a staple on the check stub that held a remnant of what must have been an additional page.

It’s not from the parking or traffic services division, sadly I’m familiar with their addresses.  I haven’t done jury duty or anything like that.  I’m not involved in any lawsuits.

I’m left with the conclusion that it was an April Fools joke, an attempt to drive me nuts.  So I’m just going to sit back, cash it, and accept that the city wants me to have these.