Sunday, August 20, 2006


It took me a while to save up enough cash to get myself my next car, which I SWORE would not be another way-too-common-painfully-bourgeoisie Japanese toy. I was ready for something serious.

So two days ago when I got the opportunity to buy a used Mercedes, I had to just go for it. My stash was $1200 short but MSP graciously agreed to lend me extra cash before someone else snatches the deal. (Thank heavens I have a boyfriend with a savings account with a generous heart.)

CLARIFICATION: The car is MINE. I’m paying him back. Meanwhile I think I will let him drive it sometimes.


I was completely seduced. Enslaved. That’s not something that newer cars do to me.

One minute it’s a profoundly dignified old Merc, and one violent shift later, it’s a roaring horny tiger with itchy balls.

As it effortlessly hit 60 MILES per hour, I started to wonder how something that looks so noble could be so raw and primeval. And then I realized it’s a Mercedes, so I shut up and kept driving.
My heart stops a little every time I put my foot down on the gas pedal. The old Merc is gentle on the take up, and then roars and pushes and drives like new. It is the kind of car that talks to you and lets you know exactly what’s going on. I find myself answering back. Adolf, you and I are going to burn rubber for a very long time.

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While other women my age are saving their pennies for Manolo Blahniks, I prefer to wear rotten 60-dollar Lacoste sneakers and drive a masculine car.

I have NOTHING in my savings account now. I’m so broke. Elated, but broke. I should take up a second job. I could do so many things – wash plates, clean walls of rich people with a toothbrush, draw pictures of Garfield to sell. I will survive.


This month is the second month of our anniversary. MSP surprised me by taking me to dinner in the restaurant where we first had our real date as fuck buddies lovers. We sat in the exact same table we sat in five years ago. The mariachi played for us. IT’S VERY CHEESY now that I am writing about it, but when I was there it certainly seemed romantic.

Let’s pretend I did not say that and move on to what we had for dessert:

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Deep-fried ice cream. YUM.

And that is my life so far.


Blogger bismuth said...

i love the steering wheel. it's big! road trip tayo!

9:55 AM  
Blogger {illyria} said...

i love you. i will blog about you and her and him. and i don't have blahniks yet. :)

so you're looking at the apartment today?

5:15 PM  
Blogger A-hole! said...

a mercedes. fried ice cream. your own company. and an anniversary with the guy that just gave (loaned) you 60K to buy that horny tiger. wow!

5:22 PM  
Blogger mussolini said...

bismuth> when? GAME!

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE> i checked your new blog. you have not blogged about me at all.

a-hole> it's not all that great. i don't know why.

6:51 PM  
Blogger {illyria} said...

i said "will."

9:38 AM  
Blogger {illyria} said...

mussolini said: "it's not all that great. i don't know why."

it's discontent, i tell you. it has its claws in deep.

9:39 AM  
Blogger A-hole! said...

road trip sa baguio! woohoo! teka, lugi ako dun ah.

6:18 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

i think that i have put on several pounds since you have started posting pictures of food.

fuck buddies? hmmm, think i will have to get one of those!!

3:03 AM  

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