Hmmm...I should really go to bed.
Hmmm. But I'll log on to Facebook one more time.
Anything?
No.
I'll check my gmail too, just in case. *click* New tab's a good idea.
Anyone on?
No.
And.
And.
I'll check the forum too. *click click*
......stupid computer. so slow......
Nothing.
Oh,wait....
they made a new post, I'll check it out.
Oh well that's sad.
I should really go to bed.
But I made that really funny status update...maybe someone commented on it.
Yes.
YES! SOMEONE DID! Wonder if they're still on.
Maybe I should check.
What? New gmail message. *click* Notification.
Someone PM'd me on the forum!
Who could that be-*click click* Aw, that poor kid.
I should write them back.
*click click*
This is taking longer than I thought. UGH! Computer's slowing down!
I should really really go to bed.
Ah, PM done. *click*
I should wait for an answer.
It won't be long.
It's daylight where they are.
So desperate to make a connection to someone. Make them smile.
Wonders of internet.
I haven't even met them. But I can make them smile. Across the world.
But are they just being polite?
Yeah, they probably hate me.
While I'm waiting.
*click click click*
Nothing new on Facebook. *sigh*
I should really go to bed.
I'll just see who's on.
Maybe that person who commented. I replied to them.
Rats...they're not on.
Oh, but that other person is! Oh how wonderful...but our conversations get long, and I should really go to bed.
I'll check the forum,
one
more
time.
*click click click*
Something?
*click*
Anything...
*click click*
Nothing.
Yeah...that person must hate me.
I shouldn't've replied.
But, oh that's right...I need to print that document. *click*
*looooooad*
While I'm waiting, oh, right--- I'd better offline FB.
I can't be caught up in a conversation at this hour.
*click*
But, while I'm waiting to print, I'll check out some flair--or maybe someone is on gmail.
Yeah,
I need to get back to that person. They might be on gmail. *click*
They're not.
This doesn't really merit a full email.
Done printing. FINALLY!
*sigh* Nothing on the forum.
Nothing?
Really? *click click*
I made that post which I hoped would make people laugh just a while ago....oh, it got ignored. *click*
NEW EMAIL!
*click click click*
Collegeboard.
I should really go to bed.
But I'll go online in
Facebook one................ more........................ time.
*click click*
Takes so long. I'll fire off that email anyway....
*click* Wait.
Whew...sent that. Anyone online in Facebook?
Yup.
Oh no.
I need to get off now...they kind of scare me....*click click* NOW!
*phew*
Anyone else?
Anything?
I should really go to bed.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
"Do it, dude."
So, it is my firm belief that 80% of all males...are morons.
The other day, I was downtown walking back to the parking garage when a flock of "skater dewds" came rolling along. One of them proceeded to completely fly off of his skateboard, skidded to a stop, and then shuffled off to find his board. A giant grin was plastered across his face. Not a sheepish grin, mind you. A, "Aren't I just totally AWESOME?"
You just wiped out. That's generally not considered bragging material.
Another (more courageous of the flock) decided to take his skateboard up a flight of stairs and was meandering around, deep in thought, musing on whether to attempt coast down that hand rail on his skateboard. Now, after seeing multiple attempts at this trick end in disastrous failure (the bloke crumpled up in the fetal position, whimpering), I cannot imagine that someone would decide to attempt it...in a public place. With all of his friends around.
It is my personal conviction that if you are considering to attempt a trick that has a high percentage of ending in dramatically embarrassing failure, that you practice said trick in secret until you perfect it, in the event that you do it at all.
Well, it looked as though this kid might wisen up. But then his friend uttered three words, *assumes "cool skater dewd" tone* "Do it, dude."
We didn't hang around to see the result of this exhortation, but we assumed that it would just be Natural Selection running its course.
Speaking of which: I got assigned my driving partner. Why, oh why did we have to put down our preferred driving partner so soon. I knew no one, so I put down...nothing. Not that I've made any bosom buddies since then, but at least I could have *possibly* avoided being paired with "Surly, the skinny jean dude." Oh well. He at least said, "Thank you" when I lent him my pen. Well, if worst comes to worst, we'll at least get some blogging material out of it. I actually pity Surly.
Disclaimer: I am proud to say that most of my male friends fall into the remaining "slightly sane" 20%.
The other day, I was downtown walking back to the parking garage when a flock of "skater dewds" came rolling along. One of them proceeded to completely fly off of his skateboard, skidded to a stop, and then shuffled off to find his board. A giant grin was plastered across his face. Not a sheepish grin, mind you. A, "Aren't I just totally AWESOME?"
You just wiped out. That's generally not considered bragging material.
Another (more courageous of the flock) decided to take his skateboard up a flight of stairs and was meandering around, deep in thought, musing on whether to attempt coast down that hand rail on his skateboard. Now, after seeing multiple attempts at this trick end in disastrous failure (the bloke crumpled up in the fetal position, whimpering), I cannot imagine that someone would decide to attempt it...in a public place. With all of his friends around.
It is my personal conviction that if you are considering to attempt a trick that has a high percentage of ending in dramatically embarrassing failure, that you practice said trick in secret until you perfect it, in the event that you do it at all.
Well, it looked as though this kid might wisen up. But then his friend uttered three words, *assumes "cool skater dewd" tone* "Do it, dude."
We didn't hang around to see the result of this exhortation, but we assumed that it would just be Natural Selection running its course.
Speaking of which: I got assigned my driving partner. Why, oh why did we have to put down our preferred driving partner so soon. I knew no one, so I put down...nothing. Not that I've made any bosom buddies since then, but at least I could have *possibly* avoided being paired with "Surly, the skinny jean dude." Oh well. He at least said, "Thank you" when I lent him my pen. Well, if worst comes to worst, we'll at least get some blogging material out of it. I actually pity Surly.
Disclaimer: I am proud to say that most of my male friends fall into the remaining "slightly sane" 20%.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Defrauded by Jelly Beans
Ah yes. Easter...the time when most of commercialized society's fancy turns to wonderful candy goodness.
And of course, what Easter table would be complete without that lovely bowl of colourful Jelly Beans? The big kind. The fluorescent kind.
I personally, rather look down on this family of jelly beans for three reasons:
1) White
2) Pink
3) Purple
You must understand that my entire doctrine of candy-ology relies on the concept that brightly coloured candy is to be at least vaguely fruit-flavoured.
White. Well... the only fruit I can think of that is white is Coconut. Ergo...white jelly beans should be coconut. Not so. Generally they are the deep, bold and complex flavour of...Sweet. Maybe occasionally "The White Candy" merits a "mystery" flavour...but that is really just a poorly-hidden attempt to cover up a miscalculation in ordering flavours.
Pink. I have no idea what fruit is supposed to be represented by this neon flashing shade of Rosado. Definitely not grapefruit which is the the closest contender for "pinkness" as far as fruit goes. Occasionally, Pink will be masquerading as "strawberry whose accuracy of flavour interpretation is poor." Generally, Pink is indicative of "Headache-Inducing Saccharine Sweetness Followed by Mysteriously Bitter Aftertaste."
Which brings me to my all-time enemy:
PURPLE! I *think* it is supposed to be grape. But after many traumatizing instances in my childhood of having to consume Grape-Flavoured Tylenol, my body has developed an aversion to anything and everything grape (with the exception of the real thing). Why can they never get the flavour of an actual grape right? Instead it is: "Headache-Inducing Purple-y Bitterness Followed by a Mysteriously Sweet Aftertaste."
With this in mind, let us approach the Jelly Bean Bowl.
Yesterday, I noticed that the shrine of Jelly Bean Goodness had been relatively untouched.
Although I noted that my three colourful enemies had infiltrated the generally innocuous cell of red, green, yellow, and orange...I decided that it was time for a "Vaguely Lime-ish Sweet Thing."
I gracefully plucked a green jelly bean from the bowl and popped it into my mouth.
Time actually stopped. I sprung into the air, spun around, and shot an accusatory glare at the Jelly Bean Bowl. Feelings of betrayal and abject despair filled my soul.
The Jelly Bean was mint. I kid you not.
Now, keep in mind that expecting one flavour and getting another never amounts to a combination of the two flavours. Otherwise...the Jelly Bean might've been okay. Mint and Lime, I've heard, generally compliment each other well (although I understand that usually a lot of alcohol is involved in the concoction...so that might alter reality a bit).
Well the flavours didn't mix. It tasted like a vile lime-ish sweet thing.
I stared at the bowl in horror, panting.
"It must've been a fluke," I thought, timidly reaching for another bean of different flavour.
Wrong again.
I then proceeded to test each and every colour of Jelly Bean present (including *shudder* white, pink, and purple). All of the flavours were wrong. No fruit whatsoever. It was like someone emptied their spice cabinet into the Jelly Bean Bowl!
Here is a quick listing of the suspects and their new cover flavours:
Green.
Should be: Lime.
Is: Spearmint.
Yellow.
Should be: Lemon
Is: Clove
Purple.
Should be: Disgusting Grape
Is: Toothpaste
Pink.
Should be: Pink?
Is: Peppermint...and strong, too.
White.
Should be: Sweet
Is: Either Anise Seed or Root Beer Mint...can't decide
Orange.
Should be: Orange...fruit
Is: Cinnamon
Red.
Should be: Cherry(?)
Is: Black Licorice
The audacity of this crime is unspeakable. Although I don't really mind the Clove, Spearmint, Cinnamon, or Peppermint. But...I must admit, I do feel defrauded.
I shall now be a devoted follower of Jelly Belly for the rest of my life. There is no other jelly bean I can trust.
Gosh, what days are these where we can't even trust CANDY anymore?
And of course, what Easter table would be complete without that lovely bowl of colourful Jelly Beans? The big kind. The fluorescent kind.
I personally, rather look down on this family of jelly beans for three reasons:
1) White
2) Pink
3) Purple
You must understand that my entire doctrine of candy-ology relies on the concept that brightly coloured candy is to be at least vaguely fruit-flavoured.
White. Well... the only fruit I can think of that is white is Coconut. Ergo...white jelly beans should be coconut. Not so. Generally they are the deep, bold and complex flavour of...Sweet. Maybe occasionally "The White Candy" merits a "mystery" flavour...but that is really just a poorly-hidden attempt to cover up a miscalculation in ordering flavours.
Pink. I have no idea what fruit is supposed to be represented by this neon flashing shade of Rosado. Definitely not grapefruit which is the the closest contender for "pinkness" as far as fruit goes. Occasionally, Pink will be masquerading as "strawberry whose accuracy of flavour interpretation is poor." Generally, Pink is indicative of "Headache-Inducing Saccharine Sweetness Followed by Mysteriously Bitter Aftertaste."
Which brings me to my all-time enemy:
PURPLE! I *think* it is supposed to be grape. But after many traumatizing instances in my childhood of having to consume Grape-Flavoured Tylenol, my body has developed an aversion to anything and everything grape (with the exception of the real thing). Why can they never get the flavour of an actual grape right? Instead it is: "Headache-Inducing Purple-y Bitterness Followed by a Mysteriously Sweet Aftertaste."
With this in mind, let us approach the Jelly Bean Bowl.
Yesterday, I noticed that the shrine of Jelly Bean Goodness had been relatively untouched.
Although I noted that my three colourful enemies had infiltrated the generally innocuous cell of red, green, yellow, and orange...I decided that it was time for a "Vaguely Lime-ish Sweet Thing."
I gracefully plucked a green jelly bean from the bowl and popped it into my mouth.
Time actually stopped. I sprung into the air, spun around, and shot an accusatory glare at the Jelly Bean Bowl. Feelings of betrayal and abject despair filled my soul.
The Jelly Bean was mint. I kid you not.
Now, keep in mind that expecting one flavour and getting another never amounts to a combination of the two flavours. Otherwise...the Jelly Bean might've been okay. Mint and Lime, I've heard, generally compliment each other well (although I understand that usually a lot of alcohol is involved in the concoction...so that might alter reality a bit).
Well the flavours didn't mix. It tasted like a vile lime-ish sweet thing.
I stared at the bowl in horror, panting.
"It must've been a fluke," I thought, timidly reaching for another bean of different flavour.
Wrong again.
I then proceeded to test each and every colour of Jelly Bean present (including *shudder* white, pink, and purple). All of the flavours were wrong. No fruit whatsoever. It was like someone emptied their spice cabinet into the Jelly Bean Bowl!
Here is a quick listing of the suspects and their new cover flavours:
Green.
Should be: Lime.
Is: Spearmint.
Yellow.
Should be: Lemon
Is: Clove
Purple.
Should be: Disgusting Grape
Is: Toothpaste
Pink.
Should be: Pink?
Is: Peppermint...and strong, too.
White.
Should be: Sweet
Is: Either Anise Seed or Root Beer Mint...can't decide
Orange.
Should be: Orange...fruit
Is: Cinnamon
Red.
Should be: Cherry(?)
Is: Black Licorice
The audacity of this crime is unspeakable. Although I don't really mind the Clove, Spearmint, Cinnamon, or Peppermint. But...I must admit, I do feel defrauded.
I shall now be a devoted follower of Jelly Belly for the rest of my life. There is no other jelly bean I can trust.
Gosh, what days are these where we can't even trust CANDY anymore?
Monday, April 13, 2009
In Which...the author horrifies people at driver's ed.
So today in driver's ed, we talked about such things as safety, what to do in emergencies, Evil!Road!Rage, and....that's about it.
Well, although I am happily establishing myself as "Random Homeschool Nerd Who Knows Everything" (I'm generally coming in 1st or 2nd in all the pre-tests.)...today I became a Libertarian for about 30 seconds.
Although I would kachunk my ballot as a Conservative, I would maintain that the Libertarian party has some pretty good points. Furthermore, Libertarian views tend to do a really good job of freaking people out. Which I don't really mind either. I figure, "Hey, they're gonna be freaked out...might as well control the place and the time." Almost like Socio-Economic-Political Suicide. (Not advocating suicide... by the way.)
Anyhoo. The moment came when we were discussing motorcycle safety and the wonderful instructor (He really is awesome! I'd recommend him in less than a second to anybody!) mentioned Motorcycle Helmet Legislation that would make it mandatory for people to wear helmets when riding a motorcycle. In my state, such legislation is not present. So he asked the question, what do you think?
Now of course, most of the girls are offering sensible and creative ideas such as, "It's a good idea...because otherwise, you could DIE!" Brilliant, Holmes.
And then...he says the fateful words: "Come on! Why doesn't someone play devil's advocate."
Now I fluctuate between actually believing that such "Keep you safe" legislation is a bad idea (Not the government's responsibility to babysit) and a good idea (but these are human lives we are talking about). It's a tough debate. But I decided to let my inner Libertarian run the gamut.
"But, it's not the government's responsibility to protect us from ourselves."
Silence fell.
He was expecting that argument and went on to explain that maybe this theoretical driver had a wife and kids at home and needed to be saved from himself. (I have a feeling the unstated sentiment was: and keep the family of the deceased from being on welfare.)
He then went on to cite the example of: Well...we have speed limit laws which do essentially the same thing.
Now...I was tempted to lob back the argument of: Generally, if you kill yourself in a motorcycle accident, you are the one paying the price..you aren't going to hurt another person because you die (with the exception of your family, but that is a risk you take by doing such reckless things...and generally, your family would pressure you). In speed limit laws, the legislators are saving the lives of OTHER INNOCENT people...not just one person. I mean, generally speaking, you could say that such legislation is protecting the family from emotional harm...but you must admit, it's a slightly different situation.
But I didn't lob back said argument...because the teacher is awesome and didn't deserve to have his classroom be turned into a political debate-hall.
SO yeah. I became a happy little libertarian for about 30 seconds...it was most enjoyable being the evuhl person.
Not edited...so enjoy the grammatical errors.
Well, although I am happily establishing myself as "Random Homeschool Nerd Who Knows Everything" (I'm generally coming in 1st or 2nd in all the pre-tests.)...today I became a Libertarian for about 30 seconds.
Although I would kachunk my ballot as a Conservative, I would maintain that the Libertarian party has some pretty good points. Furthermore, Libertarian views tend to do a really good job of freaking people out. Which I don't really mind either. I figure, "Hey, they're gonna be freaked out...might as well control the place and the time." Almost like Socio-Economic-Political Suicide. (Not advocating suicide... by the way.)
Anyhoo. The moment came when we were discussing motorcycle safety and the wonderful instructor (He really is awesome! I'd recommend him in less than a second to anybody!) mentioned Motorcycle Helmet Legislation that would make it mandatory for people to wear helmets when riding a motorcycle. In my state, such legislation is not present. So he asked the question, what do you think?
Now of course, most of the girls are offering sensible and creative ideas such as, "It's a good idea...because otherwise, you could DIE!" Brilliant, Holmes.
And then...he says the fateful words: "Come on! Why doesn't someone play devil's advocate."
Now I fluctuate between actually believing that such "Keep you safe" legislation is a bad idea (Not the government's responsibility to babysit) and a good idea (but these are human lives we are talking about). It's a tough debate. But I decided to let my inner Libertarian run the gamut.
"But, it's not the government's responsibility to protect us from ourselves."
Silence fell.
He was expecting that argument and went on to explain that maybe this theoretical driver had a wife and kids at home and needed to be saved from himself. (I have a feeling the unstated sentiment was: and keep the family of the deceased from being on welfare.)
He then went on to cite the example of: Well...we have speed limit laws which do essentially the same thing.
Now...I was tempted to lob back the argument of: Generally, if you kill yourself in a motorcycle accident, you are the one paying the price..you aren't going to hurt another person because you die (with the exception of your family, but that is a risk you take by doing such reckless things...and generally, your family would pressure you). In speed limit laws, the legislators are saving the lives of OTHER INNOCENT people...not just one person. I mean, generally speaking, you could say that such legislation is protecting the family from emotional harm...but you must admit, it's a slightly different situation.
But I didn't lob back said argument...because the teacher is awesome and didn't deserve to have his classroom be turned into a political debate-hall.
SO yeah. I became a happy little libertarian for about 30 seconds...it was most enjoyable being the evuhl person.
Not edited...so enjoy the grammatical errors.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
*gasp of joy*
I shall have a longer post soon regarding Easter and such celebrations. I prefer to call it Resurrection Sunday as opposed to Ishtar...er, Easter. But, whatever.
For now, all I get to say is this: I have a tic. Like Scrat. My eyelid now twitches. The lower one. On the right. Just randomly. There it goes again. *sigh* I need more sleep...
XD
For now, all I get to say is this: I have a tic. Like Scrat. My eyelid now twitches. The lower one. On the right. Just randomly. There it goes again. *sigh* I need more sleep...
XD
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Carcus.
I am proud to call myself a grammar stickler. People say, "You're just stupid to care about grammar," but I disagree.
It is not stupid. It is, actually, quite empowering.
It gives you a most satisfying feeling of self-importance to worship at the hefty font of grammar, punctuation, and spelling because, frankly, a lot of other people don't. Meaning you can laugh at them. And feel smarter than them. Probably not the best motivations for a Christian to be harboring, but I must be frank.
And, my parents can take comfort in the fact that this is, indeed, the slightly EXAGGERATED life and times of me...you okay, mum?
Back on topic.
Being a grammar stickler (like being a fatalist) lets you laugh at a lot more things. When you understand what the grammar of a particular sentence really implies, any (and every) poorly structured phrase gains a whole new (and hilarious) depth of meaning.
It empowering to realize that you (in at least one area) are smarter than THAT person. THAT person may actually be, and often is, an important and fabulously wealthy person who is known for their great intellect.
Ergo, being a grammar stickler may lead to many of being important and fabulously wealthy and known for your great intellect because, well...if THAT person can make it... (you see the picture).
I had one of those moments just the other day. In Driver's Ed training, in fact.
Our driver's ed instructor has a slightly alarming penchant for technology, leading to his classroom being equipped with two plasma screen televisions AND a projector screen that is set to a size of around 12x8.
Before class, he had news blaring on all three screens.
I happily plopped down in my seat, assumed a sitting position, and began passivly sucking in whatever flickered on the screen, like a good girl. After a most awkward Levitra commercial, a few smatterings of national news, and some food ads...the real stuff came on. That's right. LOCAL NEWS!
Yesterday's events were fairly unforgettable with two exceptions.
The first being a car chase involving an armed suspect. Not that the chase was unforgettable, but rather the mental image evoked by a simple comment that had me rolling in the aisle (proverbially. I stifled my laughter with a snort in reality. "Huh? What? Oh, he has a sinus infection. He snorted. Not me. Snorticus Maximus is OVER THERE!").
"They should totally use a helicopter and just blow that sucker away!" said the belligerent teen.
The vivid image of a frenetic, bug-eyed person barrelling down the highway, looking on in terror as the helicopter roars up from behind I found most amusing at the time.
But I digress.
The TRULY unforgettable news story was, in fact, of a rather more peculiar nature. Although I couldn't quite understand the reporter (volume was terribly low...), it is my understanding that someone decided to randomly hang a wolf corpse in plain view of the public.
The guy who programmed the "weird explainy thing at the bottom of the screen that tells you if the representative is Republican or Democrat" must've been in a rush because the screen proudly blared: "WOLF CARCUS!"
Wait, whuh?
Although I do not use the word carcass on a regular basis, I sensed that the programmer had been duped by that rascal "Pronunciation." "Spell it how you say it."
Uh, not quite.
Unfortunately, this amusing error was lost on most of my classmates...and even when I mentioned it today, the three people in the room just kind of looked blankly ahead.
Someday, when they're famous and fabulously rich and known for their great intellect, I shall happily daydream about being each and every one of them.
Grammar can do that.
It is not stupid. It is, actually, quite empowering.
It gives you a most satisfying feeling of self-importance to worship at the hefty font of grammar, punctuation, and spelling because, frankly, a lot of other people don't. Meaning you can laugh at them. And feel smarter than them. Probably not the best motivations for a Christian to be harboring, but I must be frank.
And, my parents can take comfort in the fact that this is, indeed, the slightly EXAGGERATED life and times of me...you okay, mum?
Back on topic.
Being a grammar stickler (like being a fatalist) lets you laugh at a lot more things. When you understand what the grammar of a particular sentence really implies, any (and every) poorly structured phrase gains a whole new (and hilarious) depth of meaning.
It empowering to realize that you (in at least one area) are smarter than THAT person. THAT person may actually be, and often is, an important and fabulously wealthy person who is known for their great intellect.
Ergo, being a grammar stickler may lead to many of being important and fabulously wealthy and known for your great intellect because, well...if THAT person can make it... (you see the picture).
I had one of those moments just the other day. In Driver's Ed training, in fact.
Our driver's ed instructor has a slightly alarming penchant for technology, leading to his classroom being equipped with two plasma screen televisions AND a projector screen that is set to a size of around 12x8.
Before class, he had news blaring on all three screens.
I happily plopped down in my seat, assumed a sitting position, and began passivly sucking in whatever flickered on the screen, like a good girl. After a most awkward Levitra commercial, a few smatterings of national news, and some food ads...the real stuff came on. That's right. LOCAL NEWS!
Yesterday's events were fairly unforgettable with two exceptions.
The first being a car chase involving an armed suspect. Not that the chase was unforgettable, but rather the mental image evoked by a simple comment that had me rolling in the aisle (proverbially. I stifled my laughter with a snort in reality. "Huh? What? Oh, he has a sinus infection. He snorted. Not me. Snorticus Maximus is OVER THERE!").
"They should totally use a helicopter and just blow that sucker away!" said the belligerent teen.
The vivid image of a frenetic, bug-eyed person barrelling down the highway, looking on in terror as the helicopter roars up from behind I found most amusing at the time.
But I digress.
The TRULY unforgettable news story was, in fact, of a rather more peculiar nature. Although I couldn't quite understand the reporter (volume was terribly low...), it is my understanding that someone decided to randomly hang a wolf corpse in plain view of the public.
The guy who programmed the "weird explainy thing at the bottom of the screen that tells you if the representative is Republican or Democrat" must've been in a rush because the screen proudly blared: "WOLF CARCUS!"
Wait, whuh?
Although I do not use the word carcass on a regular basis, I sensed that the programmer had been duped by that rascal "Pronunciation." "Spell it how you say it."
Uh, not quite.
Unfortunately, this amusing error was lost on most of my classmates...and even when I mentioned it today, the three people in the room just kind of looked blankly ahead.
Someday, when they're famous and fabulously rich and known for their great intellect, I shall happily daydream about being each and every one of them.
Grammar can do that.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Terrifying Adventure Begins
I am in a bit of a funk. A happy funk, but a funk no less. I'm going to have to miss dance tonight for the select purpose of attending the dreaded DRIVER'S ED.
I had many questions about Driver's Ed.
First of all, who was this Driver? Why did he remain anonymous? Did he have a shameful past that caused him to assume the vague pseudonym "Driver"?
Second, why did he have Ed? Sounds like Ed has had some tough luck, having to become the possession of the mysterious Driver.
Third, why did this Ed need attending? Maybe Driver really was mean to him, so he needed tending to.
As compassionate as I am, I remained apprehensive as to whether I should attend this Driver's Ed. What if Driver came back? If he is anything the syntax suggests he is, he probably is a rather unlikeable fellow.
I shared these insights with my parents in order to elaborate on my previously unspoken apprehensions about attending the mysterious, cult-like gathering.
"It's Education. Driver's Education. You need to learn how to drive."
"Oh."
So, at the tender age of seventeen, I have been thrust into this...thing called Driver's Education. Because apparently it is generally thought improper to have a 23-year-old college grad being driven around by her mum.
First night (last night) went well. The teacher also suggested that we younglings be taken out by our parents to drive around in parking lots.
He said that it was for our benefit, reasoning that it wouldn't be fair to us to go from zero to 60-minute drives.
Ha.
What he failed to mention was that the whole "take your kids out first"dealy was, in fact, a cleverly-disguised self-preservation mechanism. As my patient mother discovered earlier this afternoon.
I had many questions about Driver's Ed.
First of all, who was this Driver? Why did he remain anonymous? Did he have a shameful past that caused him to assume the vague pseudonym "Driver"?
Second, why did he have Ed? Sounds like Ed has had some tough luck, having to become the possession of the mysterious Driver.
Third, why did this Ed need attending? Maybe Driver really was mean to him, so he needed tending to.
As compassionate as I am, I remained apprehensive as to whether I should attend this Driver's Ed. What if Driver came back? If he is anything the syntax suggests he is, he probably is a rather unlikeable fellow.
I shared these insights with my parents in order to elaborate on my previously unspoken apprehensions about attending the mysterious, cult-like gathering.
"It's Education. Driver's Education. You need to learn how to drive."
"Oh."
So, at the tender age of seventeen, I have been thrust into this...thing called Driver's Education. Because apparently it is generally thought improper to have a 23-year-old college grad being driven around by her mum.
First night (last night) went well. The teacher also suggested that we younglings be taken out by our parents to drive around in parking lots.
He said that it was for our benefit, reasoning that it wouldn't be fair to us to go from zero to 60-minute drives.
Ha.
What he failed to mention was that the whole "take your kids out first"dealy was, in fact, a cleverly-disguised self-preservation mechanism. As my patient mother discovered earlier this afternoon.
"Yeah, letting you drive in a parking lot first? Sounds like a great idea to me. We'll do it right before piano. "
I take piano in a lovely church building that is situated in a nicely large parkinglot that is generally either completely abandoned or swarming with old people (church meeting), children (garden club), or both.
As we drove to aforementioned parkinglot, Mum happily chatted about various things to remember while driving, pointing out targeting and steering methods and the like.
I noticed, however, that as we got closer to the lot, she grew progressively quieter.
"Now, if that garden club thingy is meeting..." she began nervously.
"I won't try driving. Got it, Mom. Yeah, I don't want to kill anybody today."
"Oh look! They aren't here!" she said happily. Her tone might have been a tad different had she known what was coming.
To set up the scene aptly in your brain, you must first understand our car, whose name is Flyer. Flyer is a lovely vehicle roughly the length and width of your average 747 jumbo jet, peanuts not included.
In addition to its girth, it is also rather high, making clear sight of the ground virtually impossible. Climb into the front seat, and you may as well be steering the Millenium Falcon for all you can see.
Our vehicular manslaughter dream machine also has the added benefit of eager gas pedals (more on that later) and a highly attuned steering system. Perfect for beginning drivers.
"Ok, now you're gonna put your foot on the brake, now put it in reverse, now STEEER and go around...no, no gas, don't worry about gas."
In this way, we executed a rather tipsy billion-point turn out of the parking space mum had piloted into.
"Well, you just totaled a few cars...if cars were there...but that's ok," said Mum, nervously.
I was feeling rather nervous, yet somewhat confident after executing the maneuver.
"Now, I want you to look at that rock ahead. You see the rock?"
"Mmmhmm.."
"So you're pointed towards the rock...then you'll go towards the r-"
Misinterpreting her directions, and eager to prove my abilities at driving straight ahead, I punched the gas.
Flyer happily obliged and we rocketed into action, pulling a few g's.
It was over in less than a second, but that second had been enough for Mum's voice to raise several octaves.
"Not the gas...NOT THE GAS!!"
Eager to make up for my mistake (and to avoid hitting the telephone pole), I slammed on the brakes. Flyer, annoyed that its first attempt at no-winged flight had been ended, angrily lurched to a stop.
I have never felt such joy for the simple pleasure of being still. Mum's lips were pulled taught in terror, her eyes bulging.
"I didn't say gas."
We then started laughing. Hysterically. Amazing what trauma can do.
We continued driving for the next half-hour. It went pretty smoothly, with the one exception of mistaking the gas pedal for the brake pedal. But, seeing as nothing was destroyed (excepting my mother's nerves and my hopes of ever driving), I consider this practice a success.
We're going driving again tomorrow!
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