14 Jan

Well. I’ve still not gotten my car. Which means I had to extend my rental. Again. I know what the guy at Ameriprise said, but this is ridiculous. Seriously, if I’d had my car in the shop for 15 days, I would have had a rental for 15 days, right? Well, it’s totaled; so I’m sorry, but I should have a rental for however frickin’ long it takes me to get a new car. No, wait: I should have a rental for however frickin’ long it takes me to get the settlement check which would be the downpayment on a new car. Logical, I would think.

Other than that, woke up to a call from Jo. Moving her flight would have cost an arm and a leg, so after accepting the fact that we probably won’t be able to do this trip, I realized she could probably fly into Kansas City way cheaper than Omaha. Lo and behold. So Tuesday morning, I’ll drive down to KC to pick her up and then head back to Omaha, then she’ll fly out of Omaha on the 9th. I’m excited. I haven’t been to the zoo in a hundred years, so we’ll most def be going there. (The Henry Doorly Zoo, you know, the best zoo in the country. You heard me, better than San Diego. Check this shit out: http://www.omahazoo.com). Also, I’ve got a little West Country Meets West Nebraska daytrip mapped out on this awesome website/app called Roadtrippers. It is the shit and I think it’ll be really fun. I’ve never been where we’re going and there are a ton of interesting things along the way. (For example, Hastings, Nebraska, where Kool-aid was invented. Ohh yeahh).

So, back on the prompt thing for a minute or two.

January 14th – Ripped from the headlines:
Head to your favorite online news source. Pick an article with a headline that grabs you. Now, write a short story based on the article.
(wrings hands schemingly) Naturally, I went to BBC.com. I took a look at the Entertainment section first, but nothing really caught my eye. Back on the main page, however, under the Autos section blurb, I saw Top Gear. Talk about something that grabs me. Even better, it’s about the boys coming to the US: “Top Gear makes US landfall”
I have to do this without reading the article, or I have to read the article and further base a story off of that? Okay, well, the story is about the boys doing a 700mile road trip from the rural south to Manhattan. I can work with that. (You know this is going to be fanfiction, right? This could even be foreshadowing since this ep airs tomorrow. Dun dun dunnn)
→The boys had set off from Atlanta, Georgia, preparing themselves for more of an 867mile road trip than the 700mile road trip, as the producers had previously said. None of them slept well the night before the journey. It was either the memory of the last time they were in the Southern US, or it was the excitement of driving such stunningly beautiful cars north on the interstate. Although it was truly a bit of both, it was mostly the former.
No, they weren’t in the same town, and no, they weren’t driving vehicles with hillbilly-enraging phrases painted on the sides, but nevertheless.
They were also a bit nervous for another reason: They had a woman with them. Well, alright, a girl. Of 25. She had won some sort of Top Gear contest that they didn’t even know about and all of a sudden, they were meant to take this stranger with them on their trip up the east coast of the US.
Even more annoying was the fact that her flight was delayed, so they were having to pick her up from the airport and then start right off toward Manhattan. They argued at dinner about who would be stuck with her for the 800-plus mile roadtrip.
“Absolutely rubbish,” Jeremy said, after he downed the rest of his pint in the hotel bar. “She’s certainly not riding in my SLS. She won’t know how to operate the gull-wing doors and it’ll be an utter embarrassment.” He sighed dramatically and got up to get another pint.
“I could have her in the Ferrari, I reckon,” James said thoughtfully. He seemed to be slightly more alright with the aspect of a young bird in his car. That’s because-
“Oh, come off it, mate. You only want her in your car so you can bore her to death with your facts and maths and agonizingly slow driving and-” Richard drawled on until James interrupted him.
“Yeah, well, she can’t be any more bored than she’d be in your 911 – a.k.a the same 911 made for the past however many years.”
“Oh my God, we’re not talking about the Beetle again, are we?” Jeremy complained as he returned with his beer.
Richard attempted to get the attention off of his beloved Porsche. “We’ll just have to flip a coin, I guess.”
“Oh no, we won’t,” James and Jeremy said simultaneously. “You’ll have her, mate,” Jeremy said, raising his glass to cheers James. “I think that’s quite settled then, Hamster,” James concluded, clinking his glass against Jeremy’s.
Richard closed his eyes and sighed. “For God’s sake,” he said, getting up for the bar. A hangover would definitely make things worse on the ride, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He found an open spot and hitched up onto the barstool. A few minutes away from the others would be a welcome break. “Gin on the rocks, please,” he said when the barman noticed him. He was running his hands over his face when he heard someone say, “excuse me?”
He turned toward the source of the voice and saw a young woman standing next to him with a carryon. She looked a bit travel-weary as she plopped it on the stool directly next to Richard. He did a quick rake over her and determined that she was pretty, and even in the dim light of the bar, he noticed her hazel eyes – her genuine smile making them crinkle at the corners.
“Richard, hi, I’m Nina, I, well, I’m- nice to meet you,” she stammered, extending her hand.
Richard took her hand and shook it. “Hi, yes, nice to meet you, too. Can I.. buy you a drink?”
“Oh, God, yes,” she said with a huff. She moved her carryon to the next stool over and sat down next to Richard. “I fucking hate when my flight’s delayed.”
“That really is awful,” Richard sympathized, as he got the barman’s attention. “Are you stuck here, then?”
She gave a hesitant laugh, then turned toward the barman. “Old-fashioned, please.” She looked back toward Richard with a smirk. “Actually, I’m uh, I’m here for you guys.”
Well, I sure hope you enjoyed that piffle.

Bahstan

Well, I’ve graduated graduate school and I have homework tomorrow.
The past few days, wait, the past few weeks have been a complete whirlwind. Planning this trip – booking tickets to Boston separately for me and then for my family, booking the hotel room the same way, booking the flat in London, booking the flight to London, getting all the documents together for customs – as well as making sure everything is taken care of – buying adapters, cleaning my apartment, packing, repacking, packing again, paying bills, etc – has worn me out.
I only got about three hours of sleep Friday night. I was anxious about traveling and it wasn’t just leaving for a week, so I had to prep my apartment in ways I hadn’t had to before – emptying the fridge and cupboards or canceling Dish Network. Then the flights were super turbulent, but that was okay. Mom and dad traveling together was hilarious and comforting. They’re completely civil and friendly, but I thanked them both, with a tear or two, for being able to do this with me. I realize how lucky I am to have divorced parents who are able to travel together, and travel well together, for my sake.
We got into Boston and after a short rest, we headed to Dirk’s for the class BBQ. Our Chinese cabbie taught us American history and accidentally drove us through the not-so-great part of Boston. We needed to be in Cambridge and how the hell were we supposed to know? We get to Dirk’s in one piece, even having driven past a crime scene, and right away I get a big hug from Deb. We get to the garden and I recognize Kim immediately. She jumps up and gives me an even bigger hug. (Earlier, she had said she felt the ground shake when I stepped foot in Boston. I apologize for anyone who might have felt the tremor and mistook it for a minute earthquake.)
Beers were enjoyed, we laughed our asses off. I met Brett, and then later Matthias showed up, fresh off the plane from San Fran. I must say, my classmates are the fucking shit. An outsider would not have been able to tell that we’d never met. We’ve been communicating academically since October, but are from all over the country and, in Matthias’s case until recently, the globe.
Dad took over the grill and later borrowed Dirk’s guitar to entertain us with some AC/DC, Deep Purple, Led Zep, and Beatles: acoustic-style. I could have stayed forever. I even got to bust out some Deutsch and impress the Krauts.

Today, I walked across stage to a mispronounced last name (let’s be honest, if ii sounds like E in “skiing” and “Wii,” then it sure as hell follows the same rule in Friis, damnit) and received a big ass sheet of cardstock: my conferred degree. It is post-dated for August 31st, so I guess that means I actually need to finish the program, eh. It was Matthias’s first graduation ceremony, and the fourth of his degrees. They don’t do grad celebrations in Germany, so it was heartwarming to see him experience it all; his wife and two terribly adorable sons were there, as well as his folks from Germany. As we walked across stage, the president of the school put the regalia over our heads. It was like so official. We are the first media psychology class to graduate from MSPP, and one of the first in the world. Nay, in history. I’ll try not to let that go to my head. Much.

But, really, the first. I mean, come on.

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One Does Not Simply…

Like Things Anymore.

I swear to God that it’s impossible for me to get into anything without a friend calling me “obsessed.”

Because I watch all five seasons of Flashpoint, I’m obsessed. Because I buy a couple books by Richard Hammond after watching Top Gear, I’m obsessed. Because I watch an episode of Sherlock that I’ve seen quite a few times, I need to “take a breather.”

Should I have stopped watching a show after really liking the first couple episodes? When you open a bag of chips, do you eat a couple crisps and then put the bag away so you don’t look hungry?

I don’t fuckin’ get it.

I shouldn’t get defensive or offended, but seriously, what the hell?

Why is it weird or wrong or obsessive to experience something, find that you really enjoy it, and then continue to experience it so that the enjoyment also continues?

How do you ever discover new things?

So glad early explorers weren’t concerned with being perceived as “obsessive” when they decided to further check out some land, even though the land on which they were standing was perfectly fine.

Why do producers even produce more than a few episodes of shows? I mean, obsessed much? Why do authors write more than one book with the same main character? Hello, get a life. And don’t even get me started on bands who write more than one album. What are you trying to do?!

Oh, the best one I’ve gotten so far is “London Looney” after posting a photo on Instagram.

Welp. I’ll see you guys when I come back from treatment of my London addiction. Luckily for me, the best treatment is exposure therapy.

One day, I’ll have the strength to overcome my passion for film, television, music, and other media, but until I die, happily consider me a weak sonovabitch.

Laters.