Friday, December 09, 2005


Car Inspection

I had to get my car inspected the other day. Normally I wouldn’t be concerned, but in the last year my usually reliable ride has been giving me some trouble.

In the summer my battery died while I was going through a tollbooth on the PA turnpike. After the line of cars behind me realized that honking their horns wasn’t helping me go anywhere, some wonderful, anonymous hero jumped out of his car and helped me push through the toll and onto the shoulder. It was a Sunday, so there were no repair shops. I was somehow five miles away from my family’s mountain cabin, so I figured I could stay there for the night. After a tow truck ride in which the driver pitched movie ideas to me when he learned that I was an aspiring writer, a night spent in a surreal, inter-racial family sitcom with my dad’s friend, his kids, his African American girlfriend and her daughter who were using the cabin for the weekend, and a new, $220 car battery, I sped home as quick as my new battery would allow.

The next problem was a few months later when my car started leaking coolant. For a while, I didn’t even know something was wrong; I thought that the smell of burnt vagina that I kept catching after driving for any distance more than five minutes was maybe the mating scent of the human female college student. It wasn’t. It was a collection of car troubles that dropped me $900.

So as I pulled up to the car inspection station, I was a little nervous. What could be wrong this time? Perhaps the tires would fall off. Could the gas tank explode? Maybe the flux capacitor would break, stranding me in 2005 forever (or at least until 12:00 AM on January 1st). I almost didn’t want to get out of my car when it was my turn.

They make you wait in that little booth. It’s one of those social situations, like getting a hair cut or waiting in line at a peep show, where you are forced to have an awkward social interaction whether you want to or not. You get two shots with two different people. I usually use the mistakes from the first try to really nail the second.

“So, you’re getting your car inspected, huh?” I ask, as if the person could possibly be there for an enema. “What are the odds that she’ll pass?” I don’t usually think of my car as female, what with its being a stick, but it seems to be the standard way of referring to one’s whip.

What I first take as rudeness is replaced by embarrassment when I realize that the elderly, Hispanic gentleman doesn’t speak any English. This is further revealed when he says, “No Englass,” and smiles a toothless grin. He knows enough of our language to know that when the attendant yells “Ford!” that it’s his car. Maybe he was just pretending to not know the language. Lord knows I’ve done it countless times while getting my hair cut.

I get a second chance with the person after me. She was a blonde, probably around 40, with a license plate that read “Steph R.” We made awkward eye contact and I said, “Hello.” She nodded back to me and the silence started. Thinking about my failure with Ramon (yes, I gave him a name), I wondered whether I should even chance it.

“I almost feel like it’s me that they are inspecting, not just my car,” I said, throwing out the feelers.

“I know what you mean,” Stephanie replied. Success!

“It’s like, if my tires don’t have enough pressure, then I’m too fat,” I said.

“Yeah,” she replied with a slight smile. It was all the encouragement I needed.

“Or if my turn signal isn’t working, I have no direction in life.” I was going strong, but I guess my brakes were faulty, because I didn’t know when to stop.”Or, or or,” I started, getting into it now. “If my exhaust system is messed up, it’s like I’ve got bad gas!”


I cleared my throat. She crossed her legs. I contemplated my fingernails. She fingered her mace.
“Saturn!”yelled the attendant. That was me. I thought better than to try an awkward goodbye. Steph and I left how we started–strangers.

“It’s good for another two years,” the attendant told me.

I was relieved. I now couldn’t get pulled over for anything other than my erratic driving, and I had two years to contemplate better conversation starters for that little room. I’m thinking of starting next time with, “You know, getting my car inspected is kind of like having sex.” What do you think?

Thursday, December 08, 2005


Merry Beermas


You Know You're In the South When...

This article made me laugh, but slightly disturbed me.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005


Gossip Rules the School

I don't know about any of you but I've come to find that as you get older and become established in a job the gossip mill tends to work over time. Here's the situation I'm in right now. We lost our math teacher and have been desperately trying to fill the position for quite some time now. My principal recently hired someone fresh out of college and introduced me to him last week. They threw him into the mix right off the bat and had him chaperone our field trip. Being the nice, friendly person I am, I decided to engage in some small talk and introduce him to the other members of our team. While on the bus my students decided, since I was talking to the new teacher that I must be flirting with him and began to chant "Ms. Williams is in loooove with the new math teacher" . Apparently as soon as we got back to the school this rumor had spread so fast that I had emails from other teachers in the building warning me about my conduct as a professional! I was stopped by two teachers in the hallway and asked if I was dating the new math teacher. To make matters worse my supervisor finds the situation extremely entertaining and made an announcement at the end of the day over the loud speaker to keep my hands off the tall man (he's 6'8'') until I'm out of the building! This wouldn't be so bad except I can't seem to hide my embarrassment. Every time someone says anything about the new math teacher I turn bright red.

Anyways sorry its been so long since I got on, but my computer has been under repairs.

Oh and my sister and Jenny should have sent out an evite. If you didn't get it for some reason- party at my place on the 16th. It will be a good excuse to all get together so I hope you can all come! You are more than welcome to stay the weekend if you want.


Bucknell vs.Villanova

I had my first taste of big time college basketball last night and it was awesome. The night was started at a friends apartment, where we played a card game that may have involved some beer. Ok so it definitely involved beer and I definitely got my ass kicked by the game, so I was fired up. When we get there and try to find seats we start heading towards the student section, but along the way we see front row seats open right near one of the baskets, so obviously we jumped all over those. now again as I stated I was somewhat drunk and so cheering became something i was really into. I kept trying to get a bucknell chant, sung to the tune of the T-O chant, but alas I was thwarted. The students here kept doing the defense chant really fast too, and that is what I blame the loss on. The game itself was pretty exciting despite the fact that by the end it was kind of a blow out, and Villanova is really good. After I returned home I layed inn bed and realized that I was no longer drunk but had already recieved my hangover for the beer previously engulfed. Anyways I just thought I would keep y'alls abreast of my doings here in Lewisburg, oh and Richman my brother wants you to come up to Lewisburg this weekend. Hope everyone is doing well, except for Craig who I hope rots in hell aka Levittown.

Monday, December 05, 2005



Hey Steph, on your 22nd birthday, here's hoping it's glorius. If you had this kid with you, I know it would be the best birthday ever.

I thought we could all contribute one special Steph memory.

I remember the time you knocked the phone in the recylcling bin and tried hanging up the beer in the phone charger. I know you did it on purpose, which is what made it so wonderful.

Miss you!


Sunday, December 04, 2005


I Forgot

I meant to post this earlier, and totally forgot. This is the note that I left for the Strulsons during a drunken night, and took down during a sober morning:
Dear Strulsons:
Thank you so much for opening your kitchen to our drunken antrics. I apologize for my sloppy handwriting, but I'm drunk. I'm sure you understand, since it is how Matt was conceived.

Looking forward to New Years!

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