![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Mar. 11th, 2008
Another knuckle tattoo idea
Mar. 11th, 2008 07:55 amWWW. .COM
(thus allowing you to place your fists around anything you like to make a URL)
(thus allowing you to place your fists around anything you like to make a URL)
Morning giggle
Mar. 11th, 2008 08:12 amTwo Linkin Park songs played at the same time, revealing how alike they sound.
They embedded the player several times, just click one of them.
They embedded the player several times, just click one of them.
(no subject)
Mar. 11th, 2008 09:13 amI've mentioned that I don't care for cars. I often think about a stupid car situation I found myself in, and it makes me glad that it's highly unlikely that it'll ever happen again.
Let me just start by saying that I don't like asking people for help. I'll search all around a grocery store before asking an employee where to find something. People who ask questions about the bus instead of looking at the schedule right next to them really bother me. fuckinggoogleit.com is one of my favorite sites.
Anyway, I was pulling up to my parents' house in one of the stupid cars I used to have. Probably the 1986 Ford Escort. The one that needed $600 in repairs in order to get a trade-in value of $600. I pushed the seatbelt button and it didn't work. I pushed it again. Nothing. Push push push push push push push push. Nothing.
I was trapped in my car. This was many years before I had a cell phone, and several hours before anyone was supposed to be home. What the hell was I supposed to do? Drive around and ask people for help? "Excuse me, my seatbelt is jammed and I can't get out. Do you have, I don't know, some scissors? A nail file? Where are you going?" Imagine my horror. Even the idea of driving to a friend's house was awful, because I hate people who drive up and honk the horn.
My mom always said it was nearly impossible to keep me in a carrier because I could wiggle my way out of the straps. My fear of talking to strangers and asking for help made this long-forgotten skill bubble back to the surface, and I managed to wiggle my way out of the seatbelt without unbuckling it.
Stupid cars.
Let me just start by saying that I don't like asking people for help. I'll search all around a grocery store before asking an employee where to find something. People who ask questions about the bus instead of looking at the schedule right next to them really bother me. fuckinggoogleit.com is one of my favorite sites.
Anyway, I was pulling up to my parents' house in one of the stupid cars I used to have. Probably the 1986 Ford Escort. The one that needed $600 in repairs in order to get a trade-in value of $600. I pushed the seatbelt button and it didn't work. I pushed it again. Nothing. Push push push push push push push push. Nothing.
I was trapped in my car. This was many years before I had a cell phone, and several hours before anyone was supposed to be home. What the hell was I supposed to do? Drive around and ask people for help? "Excuse me, my seatbelt is jammed and I can't get out. Do you have, I don't know, some scissors? A nail file? Where are you going?" Imagine my horror. Even the idea of driving to a friend's house was awful, because I hate people who drive up and honk the horn.
My mom always said it was nearly impossible to keep me in a carrier because I could wiggle my way out of the straps. My fear of talking to strangers and asking for help made this long-forgotten skill bubble back to the surface, and I managed to wiggle my way out of the seatbelt without unbuckling it.
Stupid cars.
Whoopty doo
Mar. 11th, 2008 12:33 pm
I'd rather have a couple $2 banh mi thit nuong and give 'em a dollar tip.
Posted using TxtLJ
Mar. 11th, 2008 12:50 pmI should do a podcast just so I can call it castopher575.