hell's angel, to be sure.
Yesterday, I left school early so that I could make it down to the Vespa Haus and pick up my little blue scooter with it's wings mended and it's tears wiped away.
Upon pushing it a couple blocks, I decided that it was far too heavy, and I simply do not have the biceps to spare. So, I tugged it into the alley next to the Fish N Chips place on 16th. Helmetless, I turned the key, held down the break, and pulled the clutch.
Now, my scooter is automatic. When you turn the clutch, it is the only speed control I have over my vehicle. (The clutch is basically the right handle, and turning it toward the driver seat makes the scooter go vroom). For some idiotic, thoughtless reason, I turned it full on and went catapulting down the alley as my purse cried in the gravel, alone and far behind. I don't think I've ever had a bigger grin on my face than at that moment. I resolved to drive all the way home even if I didn't have a helmet...or a registered scooter...or a license plate...or a license. It was the most fun I've had in a really long while.
When I arrived at my apartment, I ran upstairs to pee and grab le helmet. Soon enough, I was riding to my mother's house to wash off the filth pot on wheels, when it completely broke down half way there. I laughed, I cried...and then I grew ferociously angry. The Vespa Haus man had no choice but to obey my demands and drive his lowly truck to Land Park to pick up the not-so-dynamic duo.
He's fixing it for free and it will be ready on Friday. Asshole.
You know what's funny? I was thinking today, and realized that I can always tell (during sex) if a man watches porn or not. They're either vaguely impressed by aggression, go-with-the-flow, prefer traditional intercourse and are quite affectionate during "The Animal Thing," OR....they like to try all of their little moves that they picked up, boss me around and kiss too hard (sometimes). I suppose I prefer the latter, but a fusion would be nice. Boys are so weird...
Anyway, off to bed. I need to be taking a test on Baroque Composers in six hours.
Upon pushing it a couple blocks, I decided that it was far too heavy, and I simply do not have the biceps to spare. So, I tugged it into the alley next to the Fish N Chips place on 16th. Helmetless, I turned the key, held down the break, and pulled the clutch.
Now, my scooter is automatic. When you turn the clutch, it is the only speed control I have over my vehicle. (The clutch is basically the right handle, and turning it toward the driver seat makes the scooter go vroom). For some idiotic, thoughtless reason, I turned it full on and went catapulting down the alley as my purse cried in the gravel, alone and far behind. I don't think I've ever had a bigger grin on my face than at that moment. I resolved to drive all the way home even if I didn't have a helmet...or a registered scooter...or a license plate...or a license. It was the most fun I've had in a really long while.
When I arrived at my apartment, I ran upstairs to pee and grab le helmet. Soon enough, I was riding to my mother's house to wash off the filth pot on wheels, when it completely broke down half way there. I laughed, I cried...and then I grew ferociously angry. The Vespa Haus man had no choice but to obey my demands and drive his lowly truck to Land Park to pick up the not-so-dynamic duo.
He's fixing it for free and it will be ready on Friday. Asshole.
You know what's funny? I was thinking today, and realized that I can always tell (during sex) if a man watches porn or not. They're either vaguely impressed by aggression, go-with-the-flow, prefer traditional intercourse and are quite affectionate during "The Animal Thing," OR....they like to try all of their little moves that they picked up, boss me around and kiss too hard (sometimes). I suppose I prefer the latter, but a fusion would be nice. Boys are so weird...
Anyway, off to bed. I need to be taking a test on Baroque Composers in six hours.