Encounter with a politician/link happy, vol 2
Near the Langford Pkwy exit, Cynthia McKinney cut me off.
...that bitch.
Interestingly enough, her car is the only one I've seen bearing "Cynthia McKinney" campaign stickers--EVER.
Howie Day was an interesting and fun character to watch; his one-man-band show is kinda captivating. Nickel Creek was great. Watching the last 3 minutes of the game at a sports bar in CNN center prior to Nickel Creek was not great. I lost my head and started yelling "run, run!" at the TV--very male of me. Lauren was aghast, and even more so when I slumped into depression at our loss. What can I say--it's a dawgs thing. We just don't lose, and when we do, we find ourselves ill-equipped to handle the shock. (Yes, this is the grand 'we'--team, fans, students, anyone with genuine sports sensibility. :) ) Nevertheless, that I WAS genuinely upset is further indication that I'm more Southern than I ever previously wished to be.
My BD plans have switched for the last time. I'm spending fall break in Memphis, my BD night in Nashville for, that's right, a Nickel Creek show. In my defense, they are actually that good.
(I promise I'll get bored with linking soon.)
The trip to Conyers--in my last entry, mistakenly earmarked as "Lawerenceville"--to obtain "the Electric Grandmother" turned into a weird but ultimately really great afternoon--at least, for those of us who aren't Alex, who has a van with a piston that is decidedly broken.
Near the exit, horrible whirring noises began under the hood, and they only increased with speed, and they caused us to stall out once. (It was one of those situations when you absolutely know, at the core of your overly-dramatic soul, that you're going to end up on the shoulder playing a lackluster game of catch with a sock you found in a ditch, trying to avoid the question of whether a Samaritan or serial killer will find you first.) The poor guy had to pull into a sketchy garage/chop shop, where his van still remains, upon which time I started bitching and Kelly began hunting for the silver lining. She called Jas, who agreed to (in laymen's terms) mount his alabaster steed and ride down to rescue we despairing maidens and Als. We waited him out in a teensy Greek restaurant, gossiping and still bitching (now cheerfully) to our hearts' content. Jas showed--we piled into his car (sorry...steed) and headed back to Athens.
Though I got home hours later than expected and though the Athens-bound trip was uncomfortable (without nearly reaching its uncomfortability potential), I'm actually really glad I was there--I'm starting to enjoy the unconventional moments.
...that bitch.
Interestingly enough, her car is the only one I've seen bearing "Cynthia McKinney" campaign stickers--EVER.
Howie Day was an interesting and fun character to watch; his one-man-band show is kinda captivating. Nickel Creek was great. Watching the last 3 minutes of the game at a sports bar in CNN center prior to Nickel Creek was not great. I lost my head and started yelling "run, run!" at the TV--very male of me. Lauren was aghast, and even more so when I slumped into depression at our loss. What can I say--it's a dawgs thing. We just don't lose, and when we do, we find ourselves ill-equipped to handle the shock. (Yes, this is the grand 'we'--team, fans, students, anyone with genuine sports sensibility. :) ) Nevertheless, that I WAS genuinely upset is further indication that I'm more Southern than I ever previously wished to be.
My BD plans have switched for the last time. I'm spending fall break in Memphis, my BD night in Nashville for, that's right, a Nickel Creek show. In my defense, they are actually that good.
(I promise I'll get bored with linking soon.)
The trip to Conyers--in my last entry, mistakenly earmarked as "Lawerenceville"--to obtain "the Electric Grandmother" turned into a weird but ultimately really great afternoon--at least, for those of us who aren't Alex, who has a van with a piston that is decidedly broken.
Near the exit, horrible whirring noises began under the hood, and they only increased with speed, and they caused us to stall out once. (It was one of those situations when you absolutely know, at the core of your overly-dramatic soul, that you're going to end up on the shoulder playing a lackluster game of catch with a sock you found in a ditch, trying to avoid the question of whether a Samaritan or serial killer will find you first.) The poor guy had to pull into a sketchy garage/chop shop, where his van still remains, upon which time I started bitching and Kelly began hunting for the silver lining. She called Jas, who agreed to (in laymen's terms) mount his alabaster steed and ride down to rescue we despairing maidens and Als. We waited him out in a teensy Greek restaurant, gossiping and still bitching (now cheerfully) to our hearts' content. Jas showed--we piled into his car (sorry...steed) and headed back to Athens.
Though I got home hours later than expected and though the Athens-bound trip was uncomfortable (without nearly reaching its uncomfortability potential), I'm actually really glad I was there--I'm starting to enjoy the unconventional moments.