spanish for mule

ah to be a mulatta means so many things...

it constantly means you're on your toes. race and ethnicity questions pop up more than a porno site's spam.

one example of my highly sensitive racial radar:
where:  training class
convo: one of my professional trainers says, "the screens are bad. one half is black. one half is white."

... you know where this is heading. without even batting a mutha effin eye, i shout out, "HEY! there ain't nothing wrong with half black, half white!"

the class errupts with takes a whole 2 minutes to get the class to focus. :) hee hee...

like i said. ize be sensiteev about such things.

lovely bones

my bookworm friends told me lovely bones was a flick i could pass up and not feel bad about...

with that being said, i didn't go into the movie with high expectations. i sat down to watch it last night thinking it would be a nice little refresher of the book i loved so much...boy was i wrong.

when you hear people describing a movie in a negative light, you assume their nitpicking means you'll watch the film and be distracted by the flaws, but distracted i most certainly was not. maybe you just have to be in that club...that club i refer to occasionally that consists of people who have lost a loved one...

not even thirty minutes into the film i started crying and before i knew it, my guy's chest was soaked with tears...and i didn't stop crying until i fell asleep hours later. something about a loved one sticking around to make sure their spirit has settled into the hearts of the ones they love on earth just ripped at my made me miss my father.

when you lose a parent, the years go by, the tears spread out but they never go away and when they come it's like you just lost that person all over again. so many parts of my life are marked with a tinge of sadness because he's not here anymore...the fact that he never met the man that is wonderful enough to sit and hold me as i cry (something i have never allowed a guy to do in the past)...that he never saw me graduate from college...never learned i wrote a book...that i live in california now...that i'm just like him...

land mines spring up and bust open my heart sometimes...they remind me that i'll always carry my father in my heart...that i'm constantly looking for signs of him...that he's still very much with the little girl from the movie.

people can say that film was bad... they're lucky that specific story didn't resonate. i on the other hand loved the film. it was beautiful and honest and sad...everything you truly feel when remembering someone that's no longer here was expressed...that makes it great.

feminine delicacies

when i sneeze, i muster up the typhoon powers that be and let them errupt out my nose and mouth...loud ACHOOOs...none of that mousy little cute sneeze stuff.

today i happened to sneeze. my training class (in unison) gave me a robotic "bless you." then my dear pal k turns around and says to me, "you're so dainty."

and THAT, my friends, pretty much sums up my entire being.

two words...

geisha shoes


a bff is swell because you can be a total random dork with them and it's totally acceptable. ok, in my click it's mandatory.

it's become somewhat normal for me to take video of j's a time where i can see another side...

the chick is a savvy business woman. she rocks at her job...her bad assness amazes me. even more, i love it that she throws all of that to the side when she's in play mode.

don't you just love folks who don't fit in boxes?

sometimes it comes back

so if you're one of the totally awesome book wormy kind of folks that can read blogs daily then you may have caught a post i did this time last year about possible cervical annoying effing cancer.

after freezer crotch and some tears i found out it was indeed not the C word but something that was annoying nonetheless (dysplasia).

that ish never went away...yeah, i stopped mentioning it in the blog cuz it just gets old after awhile but month after month they'd test me to see if the mr freeze had worked and sadly it never did. kat, my lovely nurse chick, called today to say that the doc thought we should stop being pansies and get in there and see what's up.

so next thursday i shall go back into the stirrups for some deep diving and tunneling...sounds painful, right? WELL IT IS! IT HURTS LIKE HELL! but i digress...

it's not about the annoyance...not about the temporary pain that can be fixed with some killer's about not freaking the eff out. i'm not freaking anymore. i'm not spazzing and crying in a corner. i don't know if it's because i have a dude in my corner that is seriously dope and a best bud that always gets it. dunno but this is all temporary and i'm rational enough to realize that this is a character-building moment.

i'll be cool and folks will be so surprised that i'm not drama queening it up like i normally do. i will say this sucks balls being a chick sometimes.

men, you should really worship us a bit more for taking the majority of utter rubbish that befalls us wee little female mortals.

this little piggy

let's get one thing straight...

i'm a pisces...a sign predisposed to either love or hate feet. i happen to be in the "i hate 'em!" category. i think feet are NAST. they're weird looking. they're stinky sometimes...they're just ick, ok? i don't want you touching me with your feet and i can promise you, you will never have to touch mine. maybe i should have let the guy in on this tidbit...

since i didn't give him the manual to tishy ins and outs i had to be cool with the massage gift he gave me from a place called jolly foot. i'm glad i kept my mouth closed! best and cheapest massage i've ever gotten. the place's mantra is based on 2000 year old chinese practices...(the foot is the hot spot magic button for our bodies.) personally i thought it was the doorway to the bog of eternal stench, but what each his own.

you sit in this calm room in this big over sized chair and they go to work on your entire body (and obviously they spend some time on the feet. they played "this little piggy" with my toes and for the first time ever i didn't squeal with disdain. i actually moaned...possibly drooled. the guy was beside me and started his signature snore about 20 minutes in. i, along with the every one else in the room, found this to be quite hilarious.

here's the kicker. ole boy rubbin me down got every knot--every point on my body that has plagued me with pain over the years. he'd rub it for a little bit (which i hate usually. that ish hurts!) and then he'd start fist hitting the crap out of me. strangely, i enjoyed the blows to my lungs and kidneys.

he shoved on my booty and did weird things to my legs that left me feeling like gumby by the time iw as done...quite remarkable.

an hour massage? 35 dollars. yeah, you read that right.

i have found heaven/nirvana/zen and when pisces go there, they don't give a pooh if people touch the toes.

fear me...tremble!

i can honestly say i'm a hypocrite and a half. i LOVE to scare people out of their dang minds, but can't STAND it when people get me. 

the other day the guy scared me so bad my eyes bugged out like some kind of cartoon character and i screamed like i was some sort of non-virgin big breasted chick from a horror movie about to get slaughtered. he ran away laughing his punk little arse off while i spazzy-like collected my guts, heart and pee from my pants.

i decided that was war...i gave it a couple of days of course...just so he wouldn't expect anything and then this morning i waited. he got up, went to the bathroom and took a shower...i waited for 30 minutes people, crouched down outside the door, giggling like a little dweeb thinking about the terror i'd see on his face.

the shower goes off. i hear him stirring with a towel...he gets closer to the door. he opens the door, i yell "YAWWW!" at him and he calmly asks "what are you doing on the floor tish?"

i can't stand his punk ass. 30 minutes of premeditated wickedness ruined. this doesn't happen to me. i'm not the one who lives in fear! it's them! it's always them. justice must be served...any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

rejection tastes funny

as you may have read...a million or so times, i wrote a book and have been shopping for an agent. overall the process has been fun and exciting...educational BUT that hasn't stopped me from freaking out each evening i kurplunk into my garage and park my car. 

no, it's not because my car is now officially a hoopty. it's something for real scary. terrifying's the mailbox...THE MAILBOX DRAWS NEAR!!! save the babies! protect the livestock! 

when i get out of my car and start walking towards the entry door i realize that i'll enter into a room that contains pandora's box--a mystery box of letters...from agents. i also know that one simple letter could totally change my whole freaking life path. how crazy is that?! one piece of paper. you should see me once i actually hold the envelope. it takes me minutes of contemplation to compose myself before i can open it. if the guy is around he has to do the dirty work for me and Lord help him if he doesn't rip it open fast and slow enough for my liking.

that poor man may loose a ball some day...possibly a finger from the massive paper cut i'd unintentionally give him from snatching the life changer out of his hand. i realize i'm a pickle which makes my hysterics cute and least that's the story i'm sticking to.

so far each day has brought me a SINGLE.RESPONSE.FROM.ONE.AGENT. the first letter was a polite and generic rejection. the second letter was a bit more positive--the agent said she admired my work and gave me some agents to hit up. the third letter wasn't a no or a yes, but rather instructions to submit via email. then yesterday i got the results back from the email agent...a polite, tiny no. hmph. then no other letters in the actual mail...i'm purposely being toyed with in the head. my noodle doesn't like being canoodled either.

here's what i know for sure. writing the book was a joy and cathartic to boot. the submission process has been relatively straight forward. i send out 14. i hear back. if they're all boo boo, then i'll send out more until that beloved yes comes in. this sort of rejection tastes different than all the others. it's not like being dumped by a dude or turned down for an audition. i know my writing's meant to be out there and i know there's gonna be an agent...i just have to keep on truckin'. that aside, it still blows to read rejections every day. 

at least it's a free pass with the guy...if he starts to tease me about something i just bring up the fact that i feel rejected and lost and i got instant sweetie patooty back. oh yeah! 

this rejection tastes funny, but i'm pretty sure it means the yes letter will be the best tasting victory i've ever had. if not look for me at the corner bar sprinkling lithium in my booze or chopping off an appendage like the true arteests.

thelma and louise

i feel like certain points should be beaten into the ground..i'm gonna beat the following dead horse until it gets up and tells me to stop. 

dead horse of choice? female friendships...specifically of the best friend persuasion. 

listen, sometimes i have fears, worries, doubts, and other nasties floating around in my noggin. there are moments when i need to tell someone i can't do it. there are moments when i need to say i'm scared...that i doubt my ability to do something, that i'm selfish, that i'm this or that and i can't just share that with your average joe or josephina. for moments like that i turn to my best friends.

they hear me out and really listen. they don't judge. they help me work through it if i'm really riding a dark horse that day (i'm apparently on a horse kick today) sometimes i need to say something that i know society at large would disapprove of, but i need to get it off my chest anyways and that's when having a louise saves me. 

i remember once in college j said something (totally joking around,totally some dark humor) and these two evil trolls (crazy eye and hook) took it WAY out of proportion and told her whole gang of people she was this evil cretin. i asked j to tell me the joke and of course i got the humor and knew there was zip/nada malice behind it. 

THAT my lovely readers is what friends are for. sometimes i just need to jump off that proverbial cliff with my proverbial car and i need to hold some one's hand while i do it.
i bet your probably wondering where's the guy in all of this...the guy is great and a really supportive awesome friend. please don't mistake my female praises for a chink in that chain. there's just something sacred, ancient and old about the female relationship. (if you don't believe me read the red tent) there are just times where your guy can't be the one you turn to. no matter how well you communicate, he'll never understand the rage that springs from my womb when aunt flo comes a' calling.  he'll never be able to wrap his head around my desire to stab people in the eye or worse treat them to daily swirlies for speaking to me before i've had my morning coffee. and i think he's ok with that...

i appreciate my friends and their immunity to my wicked ways. thank you all for enduring, listening and most of all helping me thru this joy ride thru crazy town. 




ryan nicole...

that was the name i am supposed to be rockin' in this world of ours, but nooo i'm stuck with a name that gets mangled and chopped up on a daily basis. 

last night i came home to a letter from kcrw. inside, was my fringe benefits card--a lovely little piece of plastic that allows me to cash in on discounts all around the los angeles area (a perk if you choose to support npr...) 

this is my question to the world at large: why, oh why did they have to cut the "a" off my name? was it too ghetto for the mouths of npr to pronounce on the air? was that specific vowel too much for the printer?

i shall never know. one thing i do know, though...every time i use this damn card my ass is going to twitch. 

attention! i eat scum for dinner

i'm not hear to offend delicate ears with my TMI bizznazz but i am on the pill. i have been on the pill since i was 15 to control my monster cramps that used to rip thru the flesh of my mid section like one of those little queen alien babies from the movie alien. (rip, tear, little baby fangs, ROAR, i shall eat my way out of you earthling!)

i remember coming home, 15 and newly doped up on baby stoppin' magic, and watching as my mom explained to my dad that i was on the pill. all the blood rushed from his face and i believe he went into his tool shed after and did manly controllable testosterone activities for a couple hours.

so yeah, i've been on the stuff for a really long time. i tried to get off for a couple years and those years sucked balls because my face broke out into pizza-rific polka dots and tishy couldn't have that. i was actually modeling and acting pretty frequently and about to move to los angeles so i got back on.

fast forward to now. the other night i was too lazy to take my pill into the bathroom, away from the sink, in my special place so that i don't lose the damn little things forever...instead, i stayed in the kitchen and in slow motion i watched as the pill grew legs, popped out of my fingers and ran under the stove...

a classic, "OOOOOH NOOOOOO!!!" (manly slurred slow sounds) poured out of my mouth.

i immediately dropped to the ground with flashlight and started searching. the guy--totally oblivious to the wonders and magic of that little pill--asked me why i was stressing so much...that i should just let it go.

HUH!? and risk a baby or even worse, a PIMPLE!? are you kidding me?!

after about five minutes i found my beloved pill...laughing at me in a pool of dust bunnies. have i mentioned before that i'm anal retentively neat and a total germ freak? i fished that stupid pill out of the muck and proceeded to spaz out and twitch every time i thought about bringing it up to my mouth to swallow.

finally i wet a paper towel down and wiped off the top coating of the pill..hopefully dust and 5 year old food doesn't know how to seep into pill coatings.

i put that thing in my mouth and then proceeded to upchuck from disgust the rest of the night.

the things i do for magic...

the invention of lying

i recently watched the invention of lying. i have to say it was quite hilarious. what a clever one in the world can lie. i SO wanna play that game!!! (you have to see the flick to see just how honest folks can be.) there's something refreshing about spilling the beans and still saying something lovely to the folks ya dig. it's a test of sorts.

without even thinking about it we live and surround ourselves with folks and go about our days just blabbin' truths. of course little white lies pop up from time to time (yeah, i dig my food burnt babe, etc.) but for the most part that's the beauty of our inner circles. those we can really truly be ourselves with.

that movie had me thinking all of that and then some...

do you know how hard it is to tell blatant truths with no agendas? i mean, we frickin' learn in acting classes that we speak with intention...we intend to get a certain reaction out of another. we never just say "i could never consider you as a possible match for me. your nose hairs are unacceptable"

it would take some kind of purity to just say it like it mean no harm. no're just stating how it is.

i know of only one person in the world capable of such a thing-kelly cutrone, my new sheroe. we live in a world of lies...that being said, i'll just have to stick to reality tv episodes of the city in order to get a refreshing dose of the truth.

a powerless play

do you ever have one of those days where bad thoughts trickle, tears drip and crazy situations flow creating the perfect cocktail of bad day?

yesterday my car started shaking again. it's not supposed to shake. i felt totally powerless forking over the money to fix her and as she shook and the little mean engine light blinked on and off, i felt like melting into the engine and letting it burn me out...more than the burnt i already felt and still feel. 

that powerless flowed right on into other financial situations. i realize i'm young and this and that, but it sucks being broke. no one talks about being broke. no one discusses how hard it is to be beyond the point of budgeting. i booked a family vacation ticket yesterday that made me almost pass out from anxiety. i was actually upset with my parents for not being the type of parents that spoil their kids and pay for every little thing so that they're debt free and traveling like it's nothing. care free...debt free jealousy...

that's what seeped into my bones. self pity is terrible but honestly i don't know what else to play with right now. all the other toys are too expensive. 

there was a moment yesterday evening...when i was watching my finnish people board the bus to leave me...a moment where i started to cry and knew i couldn't stop.  i knew then that crazy situations would continue to pop up in the near future. fighting will be pointless...i'll just have to learn how to ride out the hard because it's gonna come and it's gonna touch my life no matter what. that particular realization got me into my car. got me to start the engine and drive home. 

some day i truly hope this part of life gets easier. i really hope that if i need to get a new car because my poor old car wants to take her last breath, i can. i hope i can travel at least once a year for more than a weekend and experience true relaxation...i hope so many things. 

the guy says that i'm a driven person and that means that i'll come out on top. at this point, anything that doesn't involve powerless moves sounds like a plan to me. i'm willing to play with that idea.

dream a little dream

i heart oprah. i heart dream boards...there can only be one reaction from combining the two...upon learning that oprah now allows one to create a dream board on her web site i about peed my muther truckin' pants. 

dream boards are good for the soul people. if you're in a funk and are faltering a bit with believing in yourself, i suggest going to the site and creating your own little collage of wishes.

break down of the dream:
  • the title was important. the year you turn 29 is the year you can ask the universe for anything and you shall receive. i'm all for that theme!
  • i believe dreams should be practical and beneficial. i realize that asking for gobs of money isn't really looking at your dreams respectfully...thus i dream about real life nest eggs and money to travel. 
  • my book goals had to be included 
  • having an opportunity to play with fashion and get dolled up would make me happy
  • the rest you can pretty much guess. these are my dreams. they're what's for dinner.

i want to ride my bicycle (in style)

Any lovely ones out there with a need to speed? (on a bike)

I'm a new advocate of proper workout gear...Read THIS and you'll see why.

the effects of a contagious dreamer

i love when i remind folks it's cool to dream. it's cool to think big. definitely cool to go after the little buggers too. i have a friend who used to work in my building who is a fellow dreamer and supports me and mine on a daily basis.

the other day she came back to her old stomping grounds to surprise me with this:

apparently ms gina's dream consists of art stuff. she saw a page on my facebook of me as a kid (the last time i was comfortable in a dress) and sketched it...the kicker humdinger though? she added an oscar to my little biddy dreaming hand.

it's a beautiful thought...someone's dreams floating into hearts and inspiring others, motivating them and touching them to pick back up the (fill in the blank) or start such and such. i'm honored to have a sweet friend like her. she had the tears streaming for sure.

after awhile you forget who inspires who...

it all led to this...

have you ever heard successful people talk about first jobs that prepared them for such and such?

i have finally finished my agent query letters and sent those puppies off. the whole process of getting my table of contents ready, writing the letter, buying the supplies to mail the letters off...well it all reminded me of various important factors when going after one's dream:  every tiny little event in my life helped get me to this moment.

i stuffed letters for a college i sat folding my babies i was reminded of the countless days i folded and stuffed letters for the endowment association. it doesn't stop with three fold technique though. of course college and finding out i can indeed write helped. the oopses i've made in acting helped. work loads dwindling so i could daydream to my little heart's content...these were all factors that strategically placed me where i am today.

before i mailed the letters, my guy asked if we could pray over them so i went to him, carrying my letters like a proud mama and we both closed our eyes as he went over some pretty sweet stuff concerning the luck i have with the book and the humble thanks we feel that i got this far. i teared up a bit. i think that's probably the sweetest encouragement and support one can get, don't you think?

so now i wait...i'll start to receive responses back from agents in the form of "heck to the yeah we want to see more of your book and we also want to give you gooberous amounts of money cuz we're gonna publish this ish and teach it in schools it rocks so hard!" or we could possibly hear"not interested in your boring life" replies but i'm not gonna think about that kind of stuff at this point. :)

it took me a year and a whole lotta change to write the book. it took me longer to dream it up. i'm really proud of this. it's been stressful--don't get it twisted. i thought the guy was seriously gonna rip my head off yesterday after listening to me bitch at the printer for not working...alas i still have my head.

at least i think i do...

tour guides

my fam bam from finland is in town. (family tree break down: my girl anette came to stay with my fam a couple of years ago as an exchange student. therefore she be family and i heart her.)  

she came for a wedding and decided her and her guy, jani, should see la while they were in the states. they've spent the last couple of days exploring the city and hanging with my guy and i. we went to long beach to hang with a birthday guy and his kick arse fiance and showed the finnish folk how we do it in the club. lots of dorky fun dancing and some after hours breakfast grub.

i like seeing this world of ours thru their eyes. santa monica was so dope when we went. we'd sit in the middle of 3rd street promenade and listen to easy music...we sat on the beach and chilled out as the ocean breezes hit. we had lots and lots of good food including crab ravioli and this awesome salmon with cucumber dill yummies.

i feel like a little bit of home has hit the west coast in a really nice kind of way. when they leave, i shall cry like that tiny man who was sat on by that sumo wrestler, just you wait.

i finally found a good spot to check out the sign...only took 5 years

mr smooth

john west is this cat who you can find playing on the streets of santa monica sometimes...we swayed to him for awhile.

anette & yani with some random weirdo who said he'd snap their pic

is it tourist mockery or sweetness? both :)

loyal schmoyal: death to my car!

i'll say it once, i'll say it twice...i loathe car breakdowns more than anything else in the world. i will stress the heck out as soon as i get behind the wheel of my car. the tiniest sound will perk my ears up and cause my heart to beat like a hummingbird's wings. (in tish terms, my ass begins to twitch)

i said before i loved my car and i'll be sad if she dies on me, but i'm so ready to be done with broken car. i don't like broken car. in fact, broken car is loathed.

i'm so stressed out and cracked out over the car shakes i've had to endure recently...the blinking "service your car soon" moments...does anyone else feel my pain?

if the car does indeed die, i'm buying a prius. i've wanted one for years and years. i swear now that my car is moving closer to the light, all i see is that damn prius car. it, and the car payment, are mocking me at every light.

you see, i've never had a car payment in my life. i paid cash for the car i drive now (i know--at one time i was a lucky bi-yotch. those days have passed.)

so what do you do when life throws lemons at you...literally. how do you make lemonade out of a 1999 chrysler sebring? when you get the answer, please share :)

my buddy t monkey works for toyota and has a fella calling me today about how much it would cost me to give up the death trap and move on to my dream be continued.


the other day i was strolling thru old town pasadena when i came across these window pictures. all i have to say is if my bawd looked like this then of course i'd luv my body too. hmph. i'm calling them not-so-nice names in my head right now.

seeing past the stress

i haven't had a brilliant melt down in quite some time. God checked his watch, noticed my time was up and sent me some good old fashioned drama to keep me on my toes. 

so i mentioned previously that my car felt inspired by kings of leon and decided to set its sex on fire. the smoke sent my baby to shop for days. i finally got her back today but not without strife. i had a cry session that resulted in b having to come to my desk and do what she does best...she talks me thru my worries until i find something bright to carry me thru. (God, it's good to have girlfriends.)

after my crying, after the journey thru heat and traffic, i got my ride back...i picked up my anette (my exchange student/sister from finland who is back visiting the states with her boyfriend jani.) and headed home for some movie time and wind down.

yesterday was such a hard day. that car repair took a bertha sized chunk out of my bank new budget and financial game plan is shot to hell, but that's what nights like last night are for. 

i cleaned me arse off (cuz that's what psychotic type a's do) and then managed to find a little perspective in the mix. a good friend diane texted me to say that God will keep giving you the same lesson over and over again until you get it...i asked her what the lesson was. she said it's me not believing in my power. deep, right? so all those years i thought it was just me making financial all actuality it was me not realizing that i can DO this. 

i'm working on it folks...

i should have played the lotto i said, still working on it.

langston luv

if i've sent you an email from my kiwi account, you've probably noticed the langston hughes' quote in my signature or maybe you've noticed that all my posts are in green. (langston always wrote in green.)

i've had a wee little obsession with langston hughes since high school. i read dream deferred and fell in love with the poet of the people.

my bud brigid (aka bree--once i found out that's her real name there was no going back!) learned one of her theater buds was going to be in a play called langston and nicolas so naturally, she  called me up. (thank GOD for good friends!) i accepted like a stripper accepts dolla bills in her thong. :)

we started with grub at kitchen 24. ( a trendy hipster spot). the pink and chocolate joint scored big with my belly. i attacked an ahi tuna burger that was loaded with wasabi mayo and pickled ginger (as pickles). the sweet potato fries made my eyes roll back in my head. a red velvet cupcake for dessert.

after grub we walked to the theater a couple blocks down at the stella adler theater and got our theater on. the play was actually really, really good. it was well acted that's for darn skippy!  the play told a story that a lot of langston lovers don't really talk about all that often--the issue of his sexuality. the playwright did a really good job of not sensationalizing the speculations but addressing the questions folks have had over the years. plus they used a grip of his work. if it wouldn't have been the last weekend, i would TOTALLY recommend checking it out. alas...
there are just some people whose lives intrigue the heck out of me. langston was one such person. i had a professor (tuttle) who loved to tell the same langston story over and over again in his class. the students secretly snickered about the man and his memory, but i loved that story...
chillin on langston's stoop in harlem: april 2008

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

premature tastes

there's nothing better than walking down a street you've never walked before and finding a shop that makes your heart go pitter pat.

a couple of days ago i was out walking the streets of santa monica with the fella when we came upon the coolest baby store i have ever seen.

i know, you're sitting there...reading this and you're thinking "i don't really recall tish saying she popped out a kid...who goes into baby stores that isn't packin' a bun in the oven?!" but alas if you would have seen the decor in this place you would have walked in too!

first of all there was this awesome toddler bed on display that was decked out all in green and you KNOW that could get my attention with the quickness. the store is a designer's dream.
it was whimsical, clever, sweet, lovely, sophisticated kid-licious.

weego baby had art work that i could totally rock sans baby. i will say though, i was on a street in santa monica...which means it IS a pricy store. i could probably afford a book in there and that's about it, BUT the ideas...the colors and the eyes wanted to soak up every last bit of it.

if you have the cash to blow, i totally recommend going and buying...and then taking pictures so i can be jealous from afar.

far from a lemon

my beautiful old but dependable car almost blew the heck up last night. 

12:00am...crazy los angeles freeway, check engine light glows yellow. 30 seconds later massively huge clouds of smoke. that, my friends, is my worst friggin' nightmare. 

so yeah no one likes to deal with car issues but it's so much more of a sucky balls hot mess when you think of your car as a person. kizzix (my car) has been around since the first week of my freshmen year of college. she's been there with me thru some interesting times. 

a deer once ran into the side of her on a kansas highway. she's been on countless awesome road trips as well as the ultimate road trip--the big move to la la land. 

on my way to work each day i pat her lovingly and say thanks for hanging with me for so long. she's been my trusty steed and i love her lots. i actually paid for her with some of the money i received from my father's you see, i associate that darn car with oh so much more than just a vehicle that gets me from point a to b. she's fam bam!

i'm sitting here waiting for the nice man at the shop to give me the low down on my loved one. she might be might be time for a new car and if that happens ya'll are gonna laugh at me cuz i'm gonna cry like a baby. when you name things they became more than machine. i swear she's lasted as long as she has because of that...

she's definitely had her lemon moments but overall she's been good to me. i'm surprised i'm this calm. last night i just came to the realization that this kind of thing happens. yes, i just made a proclamation that i would not charge anything...paid off one credit card and now i may have a car bill/payment . lol...that's life. lemonade out of lemons...drink it up.
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