Nicole
Yeah. That's the best title I can come up with.

Here I am again. Here's the deal with the car situation for those of you who may be curious. I never have normal stories...

During the days of October 18th through October 22nd, my mom flew off to Pennsylvania to visit my dad, who did a good job of tending to her every need and jumping at probably every call and beckon she had. That's a good thing considering I was worried he might not do so, the end result being mom possibly turning into the Exorcist and wacking out on him. And without me to save him, well, who knows how that might have turned out.

But to get back on topic. I test drove a little 2000 black Ford Focus. Small. Zippy. Something I can grand theft auto (I use that as an adjective and a verb now, I suggest you try it) and be happy with. It had 91,000 miles on it and was well within my price range. I was happy. I did research on it. The 2000's seem to have had several recalls and some issues, but I liked to think by this point in time, 2006, the main issues had been taken care of. Either way, I planned on Carfaxing it up and going from there, but the bottom line is that I wanted the keys in my pocket and I could be done with this car searching crap.

Saturday the 21st, the day before mom is to come home, my car guy calls in the morning and the conversation went pretty much like this:

"Nicole, guess what? You know that Ford Focus?" The tone in his voice was not a good thing.
".....Yeeaaaah...?" Except I pretty much already knew and was hoping by some act of God he wouldn't say it.
"...It got sold."
Inside my head I go a little ballistic.
"Well, you know, you snooze you lose-"
That's where I cut him off, at the same time managing to keep most of my slowly building rage out of my voice, or at least to a decent minimum. "What? It's not my fault! I don't have the money! I couldn't pay for it right then, my mom is out of town! She's in Pennsylvania! And she has to be there to sign it too in order for the insurance to cover the taxes!" Of course, he knows all this, but I wanted to throw it at him again just in case he forgot or something...

Anyway, the conversation went on a little more, mostly with him talking and saying stuff like, "Well, we couldn't very well not sell it, you know?" and me sort of shutting down and grinding my teeth lest I throw the phone through the window or bark at him or something equally wacky. I do a lot of grumbling. "Nicoooole...you're not smiling...I can tell." Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Of course I'm not smiling. You sold the car I freaking wanted. I wasn't going to smile for him - I really didn't give a shit. So I snorted instead. I did, I really did. He took it as me falling asleep and thought it was funny when I just wanted to hang up the phone and kill something. It was a mix of getting screwed out of yet another car that I wanted, and the fact that now this whole car business had to go on for longer, and time was running out on the insurance-tax thing. So I hung up the phone and because the punching bag wasn't hung up I kicked it, got on the treadmill, and was on there for another 4 miles. When I got off I elbowed the bag a few times and kicked it a couple more. What I really wanted to do was break something, just for the satisfaction of shattering something, doing destruction.

I'm beginning to think I have unrequited rage.

So I've driven at least 6 cars that I can remember in the past however many days. A Nissan, Chrysler, Dodge, Pontiac, Ford, Ford, and I've been picked up in a purple PT Cruiser. The Nissan was a 2001, Sentra, tan, and drove nice except it had 130,000 miles on it and the check engine light was on and no one knew why. Of course, I say I like that one and everyone is all over me like a flock of hungry geese trying to get me to buy it. But there's something about the milage that doesn't sit well with me. And I'm through with not trusting my gut. I've done it enough to realize that it's a bad idea, so I refuse to settle and get it. Call me stupid or whatever you want, but I won't do it. Besides, I've had plenty of my personal car boys telling me I can do better. I agree.

Onto the next weird stage in car searching - a few days ago I got a phone call from a different guy than my car guy. Fast-talking, no details over the phone (or at least he skipped around them), the guy that was made to sell cars. I'm not stupid. Everyone sees me and because I look younger than I really am, I'm a girl, and I have blonde hair, they think I'm a total idiot or will get all excited about a Sebring convertible, even if it's on a rebuilt title. ... Riiiiight. Boy was this guy a salesman. It was so painfully obvious. I wonder if I should have mentioned that my dad used to sell cars. I know how this crap works. Or at the very least, I know enough not to be a total idiot. I think I'm becoming a hassle to them, but I honestly don't care anymore. Drop me. It doesn't matter because the 30 days is up so the insurance isn't going to pay for any car taxes anyway. I could go on and on about these guys, pulling the exact stuff dad told me about, but I think I'm going to stop. All those dealers talk too much too. You get the idea.

I did another 4 miles today. I was flustered when I got home yesterday. I'm starting to consider limousine service, or maybe a horse. I told Nick to go ahead and have a party looking for a car down there because the choices are infinitely larger and better than up here. It's slim pickings up here. I've been to Kelly Blue Book, Edmunds, Autotrader, and Carsoup so many times I'm starting to confuse the cars I've looked at with the ones I haven't looked at.

To the next subject, Halloween is coming up, and everyone who remembers my dress from the first Charity Ball dance, yeah, I'm wearing that again. You've seen it several times actually - FOI, Charity Ball, Halloween (Rocky's baby, ohyeah!). I thought about getting pointy ears and getting all elvish, but I decided to be lazy and the Carnivale masks that are out there suck too, so I'll just get dolled up and dole out candy that way.

Oh, and the squirrels ate our pumpkin lid. Dad thinks it might be a rabbit or two, but I can't see them getting up onto the little table the pumpkin is on without tipping the pumpkin over while going for the lid. On the other hand, I don't see a squirrel hauling off the lid. It's hard to say. When we used to live in Champaign, squirrels would basically eat the entire pumpkin. I never knew until that point that squirrels enjoyed pumpkin. Which isn't fair because there's a house out in the country we pass by on our way to Champaign and they have 10 or so pumpkins hanging around and they're untouched. So he's a lidless pumpkin now.

Mom got Halloween candy yesterday. We've already started eating it. I have to restrain myself from going nuts on it, but I feel like Lula and need to freaking eat some. No, you know what? All this Stephanie Plum stuff, I want doughnuts like there is no tomorrow. I'm sure Sandra and Stacey can relate in some way. I mean, I want doughnuts. I have this loony craving for doughnuts now. But if you are any kind of Halloween candy passer-outer, you'll buy chocolate. Not that some of the hard candy isn't good, I enjoy butterscotch stuff and Smarties and bubble gum as much as the next girl, but it seems like everyone steadly began opting for the cheap-ass candy and no one gives out the good stuff anymore. Be kind to the kids on Halloween; give them real sugar. Currently we have a mix of different Snickers in the cauldron (yes, cauldron), Reese's cups, and Twix. We may have to buy more.

I guess this whole thing is long enough. I had to finally get on and say something. I feel better today after the 4 miles. Though I still need to get out of here. I've been doing nothing but reading, reviewing the stuff I've read, reviewed more stuff, eat, sleep, and watch the occassional television show. I'm starting to dream of when Christmas break rolls around and dad and I can go cross country skiiing in Colorado or something like that. I'm a little insane. Sure, I may not have shaved my legs in a week (ok, maybe longer), but I made up for that fact because they smell like strawberry daiquiri. My hair is super long and I probably won't cut it until spring, as is my normal fashion, and then I'm going to seriously chop it all off, go for layers, and curl it out so it looks super-cute.

Here are a few facts for you to chew on:

Fact: I'm on book #11 of the Stephanie Plum series

Fact: I've reviewed over 30 things this month; a flippin' record for me.

Fact: I'm going to read a K.I.S.S. Kama Sutra book in exchange for free ice cream. That's the deal - that guy in Alaska better come through with it.


Hellz Yeah Halloween Candy Rulez!
1 Response
  1. Stacey Says:

    You didn't just say "Hellz Yeah Halloween Candy Rulez" with z's instead of s's. Stop it. You are not ghetto fabulous.

    Don't tell Nick, but about three weeks ago I cracked and bought four (yes, four) bags of halloween candy - M&M's, Reese's cups, Snickers, and KitKat's...and I wolfed all of that crap down. What can I say? It was a pre-menstrual stressful time for me.

    Needless to say, I felt like a total fatass after that and now I'm drinking Slim-fasts for lunch.

    Moral of the story? Umm...there really isn't one. I kinda wish I had more candy to eat.