When I was in San Francisco, Jenn, her roomates, and I were walking home from brunch. Shootin' the shit. I believe it was the mention Of Jack Pigeon, a bird we had come across, and I had compared to Jack Sparrow who works on Hollywood Blvd, that I see almost daily. We talked about how living in Hollywood, walking down the street, you come across Jack Sparrow, Batman, Tinkerbell, a midget in a Chucky outfit... In San Francisco, you come across birds and normal pleasant civilians.
That was when we named Jack Pigeon (nickname coined by Jenn: J. Pidge.).
Hollywood has Jack Sparrow. SF has Jack Pigeon.
We all burst out laughing at the words that were spewing out of our mouths (okay, maybe my words were just spew, theirs were more legit)).
Anyhow, crossing the street- mid laughter- a man in his dapper sunday outfit, smiled and said "It's so great to see people laughing" he smiled, and kept on walking.
It's true.
Laughter is one of the only contagious things to come out of mouths that is a pleasure to catch, and/or give for that matter!
I think if someone asked me "Whats your favorite thing in the world?"
I'd answer: Laughter.
To do it, hear it, see it. Even just for a moment, has this insane sensation of liberation. You don't give a shit if about a damn thing in the world. Your emotion, bursts out of your heart and through your face, as all of the muscles in your face explode, and if its really good, your body turns to a noodle, and you double over to the floor.
like peanut butter is to jelly, I'd say friendship is to laughter. You build memories while laughing, and those memories are always there waiting for you to look back on a have a good laugh. Everyday I appreciate the friendships that I do have. Life is short, and when I die I want to go with a gang of crows feet (wrinkle) around my eyes from laughing so hard. And I invite anyone else to join me in doing so.
Wherever I go when I do die, I want to take a looksy into the yesteryears say; "Damn. that was funny".
inhale melancholy lyrics dance off her lips amidst exhale raindrops acquaint her pale skin. old friends. picking up where they left off cap atop her crown. shoulders hibernate in flannel I'm home, she thinks. my state of mind. my home state.
speakers blown. hair blown mind blown.
cruise control lose control
it's me and you. she engages with her eyes highway glistening windows a blur haunting breeze handsome trees the ironic beauty of the pessimistic gray skies.
it's not goodbye why cry for thank you. me, myself and i we finally see eye to eye.
A few weeks back; En route from point B to point C for the day's schedule. My car started acting up. Not running so smoothly. I don't blame it. I've down right neglected my poor car in every which way.
The Oil. Oh! The oil.
How do I even check it? fill it? fix it?
I run in and ask the gas station attendant to help me. I purchase a jug of oil.
Senor gas man pours it in. Dips in the dipstick. The oil still doesn't even show on the damn dipstick. ( I'm going to write dipstick as many times as I can, because really?- how often can you actually use the word dipstick in its appropriate manor?)
I buy another jug.
finally it starts to show on the dipstick. But not enough.
ALMOST THREE JUGS OF OIL later, my oil is up to Parr (on the dipstick).
Can you imagine how my poor car was feeling?
I thought it was all fixed up.
then..
Roughly, a week later, I was driving home from a Fashion show, gnarly makeup, hair slicked back. Lookin' like I'd been hookin'. Not a look I want to be seen in off of the runway ( I mean, can I say- not even on the runway.) So I'm trying to just get home and take a shower, so I dont look like an effing dipstick!
But of course, my car starts flipping out.
Lights flashing, beeps beeping, smoke smokin'. The whole nine yards.
The Water. Oh! The water.
[I get out in my spooky hair and makeup, a sight for all to see.]
hot damn, it smells like a bomb went off under my hood.
....Same song. second verse....
Gas attendant. Emptier than empty water pump-thing. searching for something to fill it up.
Gallllllons upon Gallllons later, my car is in O.K. shape to drive.
I take it home, and upon my arrival, it starts smoking again.
Whats funny. Is- I secretly think that my car and I have a secret connection.
While My "oil" and "water" don't have flashing lights or beeping signals; I've got pimples Galore, and flu like symptoms that have been lingering around for almost 3 weeks. Anxiety, sleepless nights. Pretty much my body's way to signal the red flags, that my engine, is burnt out. I am about done for.
I call my dad, in regards to both myself and my car.
I've had it!
He calls his people, and tells me that someone is coming to pick up my car and tow it all the way up I-5 and he will make sure it gets all fixed up to tip top shape. And supposedly it can be done all in all for a hell of a lot less money in Portland- having his "peeps" work on it as opposed to me going to some schmuck in LA, who would ring up a total of a minimum of $2,500.
OK, great. So my car - on its way to health and happiness as it sails away up Interstate 5.
But what about me.
Now, along with all of my red flags and flashing lights my immune system and mental well being has been sending out, I am without a car. FANTASTIC.
Humbled, as I succumb to being "that friend". The one that needs a ride here, a lift there, and "I'll buy you lunch if you take me there". I survive my loathing in Los Angeles for about a week and a half, vehicle-less.
Juggling between when would be a good time to come home for work purposes, and financial purposes, I teeter back and forth about when I will book my one- way ticket to Portland.
FINALLY.
A few days into November, which had already been a handful of days later than I'd hoped to be making it up north, I made it.
I must tell you.
My car is a New Man.
And I am a new Woman.
( I never established that my car was a dude, but here we are. huh.)
Everything that was wrong with my car is fixed. New everything. Even the VW emblem on the front that was stolen, is now replaced.
As far as myself. I've only been here four days. But I'm lighter on my feet. My sickness is slightly better, my pimples... on their way out the door, my sleepless night have been replaced with ample nights of slumber on my nephew's "Lightning McQueen bed. And really, It's not every night you get to sleep in a race car, with a LIFE SIZE Kung-Fu Panda spooning you.
I feel better.
Much much better.
Like all of those sappy suckers say; Home is where the heart is, and It had been six damn months since I'd seen my family. I was in dire need of a reunion with all of my favorite folks in this world.
Tomorrow I will embark on a journey back south on I-5.
Just Me, My Jetta and a stellar soundtrack to come.
But most importantly, I'd like to take a minute mention my "Best Friend Bonanza", which I have just coined as the title of this trip.
Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and indulge in a savory ( both in taste and gossip) breakfast with my best friend Lyndsay.
Following that, approximately 2 hours south; I will stop in Eugene, get coffee, and catch up with my best friend Mallory, and brush up on everything from her new apartment to her love life and neverending school career (sorry mal, but it's like your 6th year ;) ).
Just about eight hours south of that, I will approach Saturday's destination and conclude my evening with my best friend Jenn. I am soo excited I might piss my pants.
Now come on, if that's not chicken soup for the soul, then what is?!
What only will make matters even better, is once I get into LA seeing my best friend Shaleah.
Then I finally will be able to rest my head in my brick- exposed, clothes infested studio apartment in Hollywood.
Can I get a "Hell Yes!" ?!?
Family and friends are the true cure- all to anything and everything.
Oh, and pets... my obese dogs still kiss me and stick their bums in my face when they need a good scratching. It's all out love. They take their time out of their busy schedule of sleeping, eating, and producing flatulents, to spend some Q.T. with little ol' me. And I'll never forget that.
As some may know, I am obsessed with my nephew. He is THE coolest dude on Planet Earth. He is 3 1/2. And sadly, is going through a stage where he does NOT like to speak on the telephone (similar to yours truly).
The other day, I was having one of those days. Either the blues, or the mean reds (please refer to Breakfast at Tiffany's), so I called home to speak to my mom, to drown her spirits on my self loathing and pitty.
a little voice answers "Hiiii bwynnnie!" Hi T! "Whatcha doin?" he asks Just hanging out with Mickey and Goofy (since his last visit to California/ Disney he thinks my best friends are Mickey and Co... So I continue to pretend, while he's still got a sponge of an imagination) "How are your turtles?" They're doing very well. One is taking a nap and the other is eating some pizza "Is it Michelangelo, Raphael, or Donatello?" Well Michelangelo, because he loves pizza, and the other one is Raphael" (he is being one of them for Halloween and is obsessed, I wouldn't actually tell him their real names are Hank and Shirley. What a buzz kill.)
Should I bring my turtles with me when I come to visit you? "Ya! That'd be alright!"
So, T what's your favorite movie? I was thinking I could be one of your favorite characters for Halloween?
"Star Wars"
.....oh really? ( I'm not so knowledgeable on the series)
[he then started making noises and talking about light sabers, going in details about who uses what and everything that I've actually never known.]
he concludes on the two options, which will become the finalists for my Halloween costume...
"Luke Skywalker, Or Obie Wan Kanobie"
"OK! If that's what you want"
he hangs up.
The most fulfilling conversation I've had since I can even remember.
Talking to a 3 year old is much more fun than "grown adults". In either case we are both are most likely pretending, but in this case, It's a hell of a lot more fun. As opposed to the bullshit small talk you'd make with a 20 something schmoozer.
I want to move in with him and sleep in his "Cars" tent, and talk about ninjas, "weapon swords", and light sabers all day- every day.
not only did he save my day, he saved my mom an hour, some agony, and an hour of throwing me a pitty party.
My pal erin in Hawaii suggested I fill this out, so here you go pretty lady!!
Two Names You Go By: 1.Brynn 2. Brynnie/ Brynnie boo
Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now: 1. 5 necklaces 2. moccasins
Two Things You Want Very Badly At The Moment: 1. my chripractor to magically open up availabilty 2. vicodin/ some sort of tranquilizer, or just to go into a coma (having the worst back pain ever)
Two People Who Will Fill This Out: 1.My cousin Diane ( I guess this is where i "tag" you!?) 2. whoever else
Two Things You Did Last Night: 1. vegan food from Real Food Daily 2. sleeeeept for hours upon hours
Two Things You Ate Yesterday: 1. a bunch of vegan delights 2. soy milkshake
Two People You Last Talked To: 1. gmail chatting with mallory 2. and I just talked to the girl at the cafe
Two Things You're Doing Tomorrow: 1. sleeping 2. dmv
Your Two Favorite Holidays: 1. Christmas 2. and I guess thanksgiving? although something always goes wrong with me
Favorite Vacations: 1. Mom and Dad's in Portland 2. somewhere where I feel free
Favorite Beverages: 1. Water 2. naked juice. superfood or mango
Only in Hollwood, Would you be driving down the street and witness Danny Bonaducie ( I dont know or care how to spell his name) Walking out of a liquor store with two large, yet flimsy black bags, overflowing with various bottle tops peeking out, saying they're goodbyes to the city of Los Angeles, as they spend their last moments as your ordinary form of liquid medication and enter the liver and continue the Saga of "Breaking Bonaduce".
isn't he supposed to be clean? Wasn't his reality show all about getting better? Looks like he's done well....er...not so much.
