R. I. P. Beatrix
She's dead...gone...finito...off to that great car park in the sky. Only 9 little years zipping along...the last one resembling the automotive equivalent of a terminal cancer patient.
I'll miss you, B.
...and now I get to swallow my pride and masculinity for the as of yet unnamed:
She's easy on the wallet, fairly reliable, and most importantly immediately available....now I just need to learn how to drive a stick...it's been a harrowing experience so far.
In other news, I finally got a job interview. Monday, 3pm at Borders. Woohoo! Minimum Wage! Here I come...
And on a completely unrelated topic, if you've never read Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, rectify that now. Seriously now! Posthaste, dammit!!!
She's dead...gone...finito...off to that great car park in the sky. Only 9 little years zipping along...the last one resembling the automotive equivalent of a terminal cancer patient.
I'll miss you, B.
...and now I get to swallow my pride and masculinity for the as of yet unnamed:
She's easy on the wallet, fairly reliable, and most importantly immediately available....now I just need to learn how to drive a stick...it's been a harrowing experience so far.
In other news, I finally got a job interview. Monday, 3pm at Borders. Woohoo! Minimum Wage! Here I come...
And on a completely unrelated topic, if you've never read Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, rectify that now. Seriously now! Posthaste, dammit!!!
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Isn't that fucking AWESOME?