Good Xmas stuff and cars

December 31, 2004 - 7:13 p.m.

<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Oh crapples, I have to shat out my last Xmas info before the New Year or I’ll miss my chance!

So on Xmas Eve I drove Belle and his family to O’hare because their whole family is vacationing in Spain for the holidays (bitter). His parents asked me to drive them, and in exchange I could use their car when I drove to my parents’ for Xmas (loud thump as I fall to the floor in a faint).

“Can I drive the Volvo?! CAN I?? CAN I???”

OH MY GOD THE VOLVO s40 IT’S SWEDISH AND FAST AND OH MY GOD, GOD BLESS US EVERY ONE!

“No, you can’t drive the Volvo, idiot. I’m not even allowed to drive the Volvo.”

*sound of glass shattering = my dreams*

Ok.

“Can I drive the black sports car, the fast one with leather and tinted windows and chrome? Can I? Can I?”

“No. You’re taking the Mercury.”

AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH Noooooooooo! Not the American car! WHY? WHY?

Tears sprung to my eyes, no shit, because you just don’t understand the passion I have for cars, and when you throw in foreign, red, turbocharger, and heated seats, it feels like winning the lottery to me. I would feel high as a kite just driving that thing for 15 minutes, so when Belle said “No” it was like getting a rejection letter from Harvard.

Anyway.

They made a big mistake when they handed me keys for their three cars and their house.

AHAHAHAHAHA! Suckers!

Whodahell thinks they can give me all those keys and I’m not gong to do something naughty?

So, I took the Mercury (puke) and drove that bitch 95mph all the way to my parent’s house. My toe kept tappin’, wanting that 100 so bad, but then my conscience would kick in like: I wonder how mad they would be if they knew I drove their car 100mph.

Several people said, “Hey, did you buy a car just like your mom’s?” and that was a knife in the heart. Damn you American cars!

Needless to say, the minute I got back to Chicago I went straight over to their house and stole the black sports car. I knew that taking the Volvo would just not be possible, because my luck, I’d have it out and a wrecking ball would fall out of the sky and smash it to the ground. The black car is in my garage as we speak. I took it out the other night when I played hooky from work and went out drinking with my girlfriend. Driving that car really brought the party out of my pants and when we would leave a bar I just wanted to scream, “HEY! Does anyone want a ride home! Yee Hahhh!” when normally I just cross my arms over my chest and glare at everyone.

Tonight I am taking the black car out, picking up the peeps, and boom-boom-boomin’ it all over town with Lil’ John turned up til the glass is shakin’. I guarantee it. Woot-woot!

Also, I’ve been meaning to tell you what I got for X-mas.

Um.

So we were only supposed to make gifts for one another but my mom broke all the rules and bought shit for everyone. And by shit I mean, uh. Well. You’ll see.

Bail Out DVD:

Mother: “You remember David Hazelhorff don’t you dear? Remember, he was Knight Rider with KITT? You liked that show. I thought this looked good. You know, he’s very famous overseas.”

(Me: “David HAZELHORFF?? Mom! Hasselhoff! He’s a hairy faggot! The Germans and Japs are fucking retarded!”)

My mom’s new nickname: Hazel Horff.

A Christmas Without Snow DVD:

Mother: “I think it’s about Christmas. I thought it looked good. I don’t know who that lady is. I thought you would like it.”

(Me: “…!!!”)

DVDs she gave to the rest of the family:

Robin Hood: The TV Series, 1954.
Three Stooges: The Animated TV Series, 1962.
The Nutcracker. (?).
Mr. Scarface (That’s not Al Pacino).
They Call me Trinity, 1971. (Clint Eastwood look-a-like Western).

And so on.

Incidentally, all of the DVDs were bogus bootlegs, made with a video camera taping a TV screen. We told my mom that they were “Foreign DVDs” that “can’t be played in America,” (not true) and she became hysterical. We let her believe it for about 10 minutes.

Next:
Holiday Pantyhose with Reindeer. Why is the label ripped off? Why is it upside down?

There were some other gifts, three (wrapped) boxes of raisin bran (?), Hawaiian coffee (?), M&Ms…

And then the homemade gift is a winter hat knitted by my mama. She started it in 2001 and I picked out the yarn.

Don’t pay any attention to the creepy ghost face. Or the abundance of house plants.

It flies off when the wind blows.

Everyone made fun of me when I opened it. It is lop-sided. It has a knob on the top.

When I left my parent’s house, my mother came running out after me with the hat in her hand. “Dear! It’s cold out and snowing. Don’t forget your pecker head!” and then, “Oops! I mean! Uh-Ha ha!” because my mother doesn’t believe in swearing because she is a Christian.

Lastly: The gift I made for my brother, who is a big nerd who plays role-playing games.

It’s an exact replica of a Magic™ trading card. I made him into a character, a wizard, with fantastic powers. I drew that goddamn picture. He doesn’t have long hair anymore, I just drew that to piss him off.

Supercilious

adj 1: having or showing arrogant superiority to and disdain of those one views as unworthy

That’s him in a nutshell. He’s holding his opponents in his hands and they are crying because they suck and he rules the Magic™ world. I can’t draw hands so I stole those from DaVinci.

I had to study this card game in order to understand it so I could create a real character. I actually bought the goddamn game (*snore*) and now I have fantasy-land cards lying all over the house. Gnomes and fairies and shit.

How fucking cool is that? I’m the awesomest sister on the planet, and I can assure you that mofo treated me like shit as a kid and really doesn’t deserve this. He nearly wept.

I’m out! Have a good NYE and if you’re drinking, take a cab home, bitches! I sure am.

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