Thursday, November 13, 2008

Street Cred

Tire Update:

Still flat. Which sucks.

I even went to Wal-Mart (yes, I went home and washed my hands with bleach and holy water afterwards) to check out prices of potential replacements if this poor little fella is beyond resurrection. And do you know that they wanted ninety-five FREAKING dollars for the thing? That's a 9 AND a 5. What the crap. I was so shocked that I exclaimed "ninety-five DOLLARS?!" (as if I was expecting it to be in rupees, or something) with my trademark loudness and Blake (bless his heart) went "Shhhh...."
I think he might have been embarassed.
Poor thing. He hasn't even met my Mom or Grandma. If that ever happens, it'll be a treat.

We (and by we, I of course mean Blake) had the intention of changing it ourselves, but apparently the good people at Ford chose to put my spare tire beneath the car, as opposed to in the trunk like most normal people. So obviously, it was all rusty and nasty and impossible to remove. Thankfully, I have in my posession a AAA card that would remedy the situation. My dearest mother does nothing but rave about their service, which is good because she pays them $100 a year to be that awesome. So I called, and the really nice lady on the other end took my information and said that the estimated time of the dude's arrival would be about an hour, but most likely less. Excellent. The last time the bailed my mother out due to a dead battery or something, they came in less that twenty minutes, so I was using that as a reference for a realistic time-frame. Great. Then, another really nice lady called me back, and kindly informed me that the guy wouldn't be there until 1:30. Which was a good hour and a half after they'd originally said they'd be there.

Did I mention I had to leave for work at 2?

So I just cancelled and told them I'd call back tomorrow.
Which means I stole Blakey's car again.
Somebody get this man some peanut butter M&M's for his trouble.

And speaking of peanut butter M&M's...and Swedish Fish...

We're going to see this fine-looking gentleman tonight:

That's right.
On a school night
Except for not really.

There's a midnight showing so naturally, I'm there.
Here's the funny thing about midnight premiers: I don't necessarily go to them because I'm excited about the movie.
I go because it makes me cool.
Well, cooler.
Because you can only improve upon perfection so much.

Case and point: Star Wars, Episode 3 (which doesn't exactly make sense because wasn't it the 6th movie? Whatever...)
I went to the midnight premier NOT because I really needed to see why Darth Vadar's voice does that weird, creepy vibrato-thingy, but because I wanted to say that I was there.
Apparently, Star Wars is really popular or something. I can't remember where I read that.
Also someone had an extra ticket and invited me.

There are, however, a few exceptions.
Case and point: Batman, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter.
And here's why:
-Comic books of my childhood (and Christian Bale)
-Books of my adolescence (and Orlando Bloom)
-Books of my adulthood (and Daniel Radcliffe)
In other words: flagships of my development as a human being.

The 22nd James Bond flick falls somewhere in between the two paradigms. I respect and acknowledge their supreme and holy place in the world of action films, but I'm not obsessive like I am about some things (cough...Middle Earth...cough...).
Also, I saw the mansion where the Bond novels were written while I was in Scotland. So, there's that.
In an event, I will be there in a couple of hours.

Maybe Daniel Craig will come fix my tire for me.

I'm just saying...
I don't think the other Bonds wore a suit this well.


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