Vehicular Suicide

Ah yes, we have all heard of vehicular homicide. But have any of you stopped to think about vehicular suicide?

Many a time I have scoffed and psshawed when people don't own a car. But how do you get out to West Valley to check out the Ross on that side of town when you don't have a car? I am scared of riding a bike too, something about the horror of some SUV'd out mother texting her kid on her cell phone not paying attention to me until I hit the hood of her car freaks me out. Plus, I honestly don't know if I have bike legs anymore, I haven't ridden one in so freaking long. So I do envy you careless lean legged bikers, and your need to not fill up at the gas station.

I should own up to the fact now that I did not have a license until I was 18. My parents wouldn't sign off on it until my grades were good enough, hence me having to be an adult and doing it my damn self. For the record, my grades are plenty fine now. But I don't get pizza dinners and a license out of it, just more debt.

I have never paid off a car save for one time when my friend sold me the Chevy Celebrity for about $200.00. That beauty had a passenger side door that would not open and every time I wanted to start it, I had to pop the hood and jiggle the battery. One day the battery died. I pushed it onto the street and placed a cardboard sign on it that said "For Sale $50" attached with my phone number. A nice Hispanic gentleman showed up with his mechanic and they took it off my hands. I used the money to buy a plane ticket to Iowa. This was pre-911 pre-recession and plane tickets were dirt cheap.

The next vehicle I purchased was brand spanking new. It was a Ford Escort in a pure virgin white color. I actually did not want a white car, but I am a car salesman's wet dream. Put me on the lot and chances are I will walk with what you show me first, I don't have the patience to dilly dally around. My mom even tried to get me go to back for a new color but I stuck to my guns. That car was not but a year old when the whole transmission went out.

I brought it to the dealership and they told me that it would be $500 to get it up and running again and that it could be another $1000 to fully fix it. I said "Really, I have $500 now can we trade this bitch in and I can use that $500 for a down payment?" They happily and greedily obliged. Thus started my transition to not paying off cars due to transmissions.

True to my word, I bought the first car I test drove, a secret that I had been keeping to myself for oh so long. Something I pined for at night before I would lay my head on my pillow. A red Ford Mustang. The second my foot fell onto the gas pedal I didn't care about the cost of the car, I left with it and with a big sports car smile on my face.

The Mustang was great! I drove it everywhere. Then one day it rained. And my car started skidding wildly left and right. And this foreign term was spouted to me: rear wheel drive? What? Hence began the journey of terror that was winter. I reached a period where I couldn't even move the car from small snow banks and every day I would pray to God to not let me die due to the fact that my chic little car had a bounty on my head. Years did go by of me owning this car, loving it in the summer, loathing it any time the ground got wet or the winter.

Then out of nowhere, parked on the street some jerk hit and ran it. Messed up that rear wheel drive. I put hundreds into fixing it, but alas no matter what it would shake like a seizure every time I hit the brakes. I was not giving up on my little dream yet, I kept trying to get it fixed. Until one night, about two weeks later I was backing up and did not realize my friend's door was not shut and tore about 75% of the door off. Ugh.

That car got left for dead at the dealership and I got my Nissan Sentra ie "The series of unfortunate tire events car" It never really gave my too much grief until I got four flats in the span of a year. This car is now starting to become the Damien of cars. I am noticing that every time I have money, my car puts a sensor on that and something happens to it that is super expensive to fix. I had to spend $600 on brake problems last year.

I have been really good at saving my money this year and planned on taking a little trip to reward myself. Until Damien, let's call it Domien, it least that has my name in it, started to squeal like a stuck pig every time I turned it on. I took it to the car fixing guy place (oh by the way this is about a month after the full bumper ripped off due to an unfortunate contact meeting with a mailbox) and the mechanic said the thingamajig was leaking onto the whatseywhosit and that it should not cost too much to repair.

He must have thought I was wearing diamonds on my neck because when he gave me the quote my heart palpitated and I smiled hard. $350. About the amount my vacation I WAS GOING TO TAKE would have cost me. Well, I have no choice now but to fix it. And while I was angering over this on my freeway ride to my mom's house to pick up her mini-van to borrow for the week the inevitable happened. Something that has never happened in all 11 years of driving my cars. A rock hit my windshield and chipped it.

My cars hate me and want to commit suicide.

MC Hammered and Vanilla Iceless

So the question is, how did I wake up with skinned knees, pounding head, a vague recollection of last night’s incessant laughter still ringing through my ears, a bag of Baconators being ordered from Wendy’s and only photos to remind me what had happened? Well, I will give you the recipe, but I don’t suggest you cook it. It is a night in Orem, built up anticipation followed by complete boredom, a bottle of Jameson, and the right kind of friend with you to participate in aforementioned things. The moon had aligned perfectly with the stars for this kind of night.

See, I was always that kid who was about three years behind on trends. Living in Iowa,that set me back to at least six years behind. I never did get the Girbauds while they were hot of the jeans press or the slap bracelets that threatened to come out of their protective casing and cut your wrist until they were settled into the DI. For that reason, I never went to concerts or watched Beverly Hills 90210 when it first came out. I knew and loved MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice, and true to form, twenty years after the fact I was ready to see them in concert.

The mere idea that they were coming to Orem Utah on February 27th and only Orem Utah alone, no other tours, just this, blew my mind. Since I don’t get out of the house much, I had actually never been to Orem and had to prepare for this trip. This concert in my mind was going to be epically epic. Well before we made that drive Conor and I sat in the liquor store debating which kind of whiskey could be downed wihtout choking hazards.

We then made the one hour drive up there and arrived shortly before 8:00. I feared we were actually going to be late since the bill stated that the show started at 8:00. As I sat in the parking lot I started to fill a Coke bottle with Jameson. Then Conor and I were faced with the task of how we were to fill the flask. See they have these tiny holes and no funnel! Easy, the funnel was made out of the directions to get there.

We finished our Coke and exited the vehicle. I was greeted by a massive sea of people standing in a massive sea of lines all excited to get inside. Some were dressed up straight out of the 80’s, hardcore fans had steps shaved in their heads, and others appeared to be the curious onlookers of the night.

Just a few sips of liquid courage later, you know to get me warmed up while I waited in the cold, and I was ready to go inside and nail this concert. Well, the line proved to be longer and colder than anticipated. I sent Conor back to the car to retrieve the other Coke bottle. We were destined to smell like hobos for the night. He came back and warned me this was a strong batch, he also called out my manliness so I had to drink right along with him as he had left about 1/100 Coke and the rest whiskey in this one.

So a few sips became a few gulp, guzzles, pounds.



We finally found our way inside and explored the many tunnels of the McKay Events center. Hoards of people were gathered around waiting for the show to start, and it was set up much like a Junior High pep rally with dancers on stage and our favorite hits from back in the day blasting through the speakers.

We found the press room where we were excited to meet our men of the 80's, and I decided to pose by the beautiful backrop that was glistening with washed up success reunited for just one night



I wandered upstairs and was beckoned by some men with a Playstation video game console up and running. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly, I haven’t played video games since the first Nintendo came out.” They convinced me to do so though and I picked your typical character for a girl, Wonderwoman, and proceeded to kick my video game loving friend’s ass. I was just that perfect amount of buzzed, you know the kind where you can bowl a great score? Oh I got a free t-shirt out of the deal, and that to me was as good as gold. I danced around a lot and said things like "SUCK IT!"

So then it sounded like something big was about to happen since it was about 9:30 and we ran downstairs to see if our Hammer or Ice was coming out. After a few minutes of just more amping up the crowd happened, and more opening acts, and more breakdancers, we confirmed it was not happening yet and went wandering (drinking) some more. This is where you are about to have that second game of bowling and you suck because you drank a lot more because that is supposed to make you double awesome.



In the process of going outside to have a cigarette, I put my coveted shirt in the door to keep it open. Security snaked up behind me and snatched it out the door and ran off with it! Luckily for cell phones Conor came and got me back in and we told my tearful story to the Playstation men who happily supplied me with another t-shirt. 10:30 rolls around. We have been here for hours, and no sign of the main acts. More people dancing around, Vanilla Ice’s dancers went up to Conor and asked when he was going to go on. He lied and said next. I think it was more wishful thinking than lying. Even Vanilla’s dancers didn’t know when the actual show was starting!

Yet more wandering commenced which led us into the media room. Alone. With a copy machine. Bored. Things that shouldn’t get copied got copied. There is still a photo copy of my boobs sitting in Conor's car. I kept giggling and saying the 3-year-old phrase "Don't look don't look!!"





Finally, all the excitement, buildup, happiness about this whole event started to wane down. I had about as much fun as one can have in a media room and Conor even had to stop me from tearing down the tapestry to take home (with a lighter) and instead we decided on a chain that weighed about 150 pounds. I was also in dire need of water. This much need.




We had been in Orem for hours upon hours, we were out of things to do, and quite honestly I am surprised the gigantic crowd outside wasn’t rioting. We remained patient and loyal for as long as we could, and even adult beverages make me more patient that Mother Theresa. So the executive decision was made after over four hours of waiting for the hype to stop and the actual event to happen.

Sometimes awesome things are better kept a mystery, and the buildup in your head is far better than the actual event that unfolds before you. This decision was made as we walked out those doors and missed our epically epic event. Though somehow, it still turned out to be one of the best concerts I had even been to this year.

Afterwards some Iranian men bought me some much not needed shots which pretty much put me over the edge. I think I convinced myself that I was a hobbit and that this endearing fella was Gandolf the Gray because I wanted my picture with him and was dumbfounded that I was so short in comparison with his tallness. I don't remember this photo being taken.

Along the way BACONATORS! was screamed. Conor thought it was a good idea too. I don't remember that either. Nor do I remember falling flat on the floor the second me feet walked inside, but there is proof in photos of course.

A Date With The Ups

I have no particular subject to talk about so this will just be a randomized list of successes, failures, and okay, nothing really in particular.

1. I am taking three classes this semester and they suck so much harder than taking two classes. Right now as I am writing this, all I can think about is how much homework I have to do and how I should be doing that and not this. I wish I were graduated now but I still have a good year or so to go but it will be worth it if I can just get my ass in gear. Currently: Ass not in gear.

2. I don't know what happened but over the last few months I have abandoned all hope ye bras who try to enter my shirt. It started out innocently enough, I would not wear bras in the summer because I figured that nobody would notice anyway due to my lack of boobage, but then it continued on from there. They feel like tight boa constrictors trying to suffocate my boobs to death. Out of nowhere I will be at the bar and realize that whoops I forgot to add some padding and underwire to my chestal region. I keep trying to tell myself I am not a hippie and that this better be socially acceptable. We'll see.

3. I went to MC Hammered and Vanilla Iceless (thanks Andrea) last weekend and I think that I am scared of whiskey. It is a bully that threatens to make me look stupid in front of others and do things that I don't remember. There will be a story and you have seen the pictures.

4. Out of nowhere, tired, sick and in pain, I decided to rearrange my room today. I threw my back out (how!??!?!?) and almost started crying when my dvd rack melted and I was sitting atop a pile of dvds, clothing and dresser drawers. This now results in me needing to purchase multiple items at Ikea this weekend. Something tells me that my subconscious forced me to rearrange my room so said events would happen so that I could buy new shit. I love buying new shit.

5. I am going to tour the Draper Temple with my mom on Friday. So if you don't see me after Friday it is because I was struck by lightning.