I Love My Cell Phone: A Sort of Catch-Up Five

1. Listen, I am who I am: So, this exchange happened regarding the upcoming trip to Mongolia.

Me to the Travel Agent
What will be the internet/text message availability situation? I know we'll be in the middle of nowhere much of the time, but I figured there would be times with internet access and I was curious about what the mobile phone network in the area is like.

Travel Agent to Me
As far as internet availability, the only place you can expect to access the internet will be in UB. It's possible that you will be able to use the internet in Kharkhorin, but this isn't a reliable connection. Cell phones will typically work in the gear camps when you stop for the night, but not while traveling between camps.

Pookie to Me Upon Reading the Above Exchange
OMG JOS YR CELL PHONE WON'T WORK BETWEEN VILLAGEZZZ WTF!!!

2. Battle of the Davids: Is ON. We all know that my love child Jason Castro is the album I want to buy, because I don't already own enough poor man's Jack Johnson, but I'm cheering Castro on. Artichoke scares me. He can't possibly be as wishy washy as he seems. It's like, if there were an Incredible Hulk in real life, that kid would be a good candidate. So weird that little one is.

3. It was 105 in Vegas Yesterday: I'm hot, the cats are hot, it's hot to run. This is how much I can't focus on writing: I'm writing about the weather.

4. I really do have so much to write about though ... this crazy story about hand jobs in a club in Vegas, a story about pottery night, I just can't focus.

5. So instead, a haiku:

Boys will make you sad
Repeating cycle every
time. I like my cats.

 

An Africa Interlude: A Friday 10 In Which I Surely Cannot be Pregnant

What's sad about the intrusion of a Friday Five here is that the next Africa entry is one of my absolute favorites, and it's very entertaining and it would have been a fun way for people to kind of wrap up the weekend with a funny story about how lazy I can be and how Lisa basically won. But I feel like there have been no real updates on ME lately (ha). And it's been a strange week. I've had lots of change thrown in my face. Upheaval, really. Some hard decision making. So, some of this is short, but it's really a Friday 10 to maybe not catch us up, but cover some things.

1. Meandering: In the face of some change, and some young'ins, I updated The Nature of Sand. Which is to say that I pontificated in a circuitous manner and indulged myself by blogging it.

2. Just for Pookie: I rarely point to the thankful journal, but today's entry is special and just for Pookie, so I want to be sure he notices it. Here's today's thankful entry, baby brother.

3. Gay or Douche Bag? This is a new game that Larry invented for us to play on the Strip. I think the game is pretty self explanatory, but in case you don't get it, you basically grab your cocktail and sit in a casino (or a club, or the airport) and try to identify who's gay and who's just a douche bag. You have no idea how fun this is, or how hard it can be.

4. The Joel Robuchon Mansion: Was unreal. I want to say that the caviar course was my favorite, but the veal was amazing. Also the shellfish course was amazing. Oh, and the mushroom course was amazing. But oddly, there was a palette cleanser of a soy bean risotto that was actually our favorite. I just salivated.

5. Eddie Vedder: It was like 1992 all over again, except not since there were no music downloads in 1992. I rushed to my iTunes account the day the new Eddie Vedder was released, and it is good. I don't know that I'll be able to watch Into the Wild, because the book alone sent me into a fit of depression for a week, but the soundtrack is beautiful. I heart Eddie Vedder.

6. G-Mail Chat Poetics: I have once again translated mine, Paul and Dex's gmail status indicators into a poem for you. In this case, it worked out to pretty much be a haiku.

Nintendo's Bitch - Paul
Nintendo Widower - Dex
Nintendo's White Slave!

7. Where is my period? This is what we're all asking. I'm sure it's just stress related. I have a zit, a headache and a backache, so I'm sure it will be here any day. Given that it's a week plus late, I didn't drink tonight, just in case. And then you know how it is, the later it is the more you worry and the more you stress and the later and later it will be. And then you find yourself saying things like, "I mean, it would be nearly impossible," but then you do the math and "nearly impossible" is not "impossible." This is my brain right now with every minute that passes with a zit, a backache and a headache but no period. Hi, mom!

8. Later on...when my period comes and we're all like "See, it was just the travel and the stress of all the other unexpected changes when you got back," I'll tell you about all of the other crazy stuff that's been going on in my head as the days drag by and I get later and later.

9. See, now I've stressed myself out: This is the cycle. I know I probably have nothing to worry about, but as soon as I start thinking or talking or writing about it, all I can think about is how freakin' late I am.

10. Let's watch a video instead. This is probably only funny to you if you've ever worked in a corporate marketing department and dealt with corporate design issues. And usually there's only one corporate "design" issue. And it has to do with...logo size. If you've never worked in a corporate marketing department, this is not so funny. If you have, well, you'll laugh your ass off.

 

Three Inappropriate Poems

Three poems for Catwoman in honor of her uterine procedure today.

Damn those female parts.
Adenomyosis
Painful periods
Heavy bleeding
No sex in the champagne room
Enlarged uterus. Fuckit.

Unhealthy core of my womanhood,
Trust me, I need no more crime scene periods.
Exile your fibroids from my body,
Raging menstruation no more!
Upward bound to ovarian bliss.
Sexy mama about to wear a hospital gown with a slit up the back.

Today I remove
gross growths deep within my sweet
woman center. Blah.

 

Big Time with Big Jim

Miss Me? Firstly, Candy, I'm so sorry for no Friday Five last week, but I was busy spending a beautiful day in the park with your children instead of withering in front of the robot machine. I have no apologies.

And so, there will soon, I'm sure, be writing about the rest of the trip home, but for today, I thought I'd share the story of Big Jim!

In March, I got this email from Ferris:

Sad. I don't think I've ever given the thing a second thought, up until when they said it won't be there anymore.

http://www.postgazette.com/pg/07081/771527-55.stm

To which Pookie replied:

Ferris, I guess we'll have to buy it. Then load it on a flatbed truck and take it on a cross country roadtrip called "Go West, Big Jim< -- Go West."

Now, all we need is $10,000 each......

To which Ferris replied:

We'll cross the country with it, finding out a lot about ourselves and America along the way. Finally, upon arriving in San Francisco, Big Jim becomes a gay icon, but during its triumphant (yet ill advised) parade down Lombard Street it teeters over and kills Joel. James, in a fit of anger, curses the day the steel giant was ever created; the statue gains sentience and in a fit of remorse, throws itself into the Bay. It is never seen again, and James ends his days working in a coal mine.

And then, a couple of weeks later...

BIG JIM IS SAVED:
http://www.postgazette.com/pg/07088/773514-100.stm

And so on Saturday we're sitting at my mom's house and we're all like, "Hey, Ferris, what do you want to do today for your birthday?"

And he's all like, "I want to go find the Big Jim statue and worship it."

Surely he did. So first we drive to where the Big Jim statue originally lived hoping, beyond hope, that perhaps he had not been moved yet. He had been moved. We then drive all the way through Charleroi, the town where Big Jim had resided, to see if he had been moved to a central park area or something. We have no luck.

I wrote that last paragraph like driving through Charleroi took us hours, but in reality driving through the entire length of Charleroi takes less than 10 minutes. At the end, disheartened and sad, we pull over to the Cougar Mini Mart. What shall we do? Almost twenty minutes into our quest, we've failed to find Big Jim.

So, the average age of a citizen of Jesus Land in Western Pennsylvania is about 115 years old. Pookie and I roll into the Cougar Mart (named, by the way, for the team mascot at the local high school) to ask if anybody knows where Big Jim is. There are two people in the Cougar Mart. The woman behind the counter (balding) and the woman buying her lottery tickets (old). We get in line to ask our question. It's at that point, that the woman buying the lottery tickets realizes that one of her FIFTEEN LOTTERY TICKETS has been misprinted not using the super secret lottery number that she wanted. What do you do in this situation if you are the lottery ticket purchaser or the woman behind the counter? Do you say to the old lady and her lotto tickets, "Just give me one moment to help those two people standing behind you and then we'll work out." NO! You proceed to spread ALL FIFTEEN LOTTERY TICKETS OUT ON THE COUNTER and then start tediously going through them with the old woman while Pookie and I stand there with our mouths open.

Fortunately, at that moment, a man who was roughly 115 years old and holding a respirator in his hand comes in and gets in line behind us.

Pookie to Said Man
Have you lived here your whole life?

And at the time, it was a nice intro, though, you know, OBVIOUSLY. The man explains to us that the Big Jim statue has been moved to Bentleyville. We return to the car to suggest a trip to Bentleyville. Ferris is like, "Do we really want to drive all the way to Bentleyville?"

Again, this is said like this is some kind of trek. IT'S A TEN MINUTE DRIVE. We, of course, begin this ten minute drive with Ferris pulling his hybrid out in front of an 18-wheeler that was speeding down the highway at 80 miles an hour and literally CAME WITHIN FEET OUR OUR BUMPER. Ferris' response to this?

"This may be it, people."

I mean, and really, we were pretty close to death there.

And we turn into Bentleyville, and...THERE'S BIG JIM. In a park? No! In a town square? No! On a pastoral hill somewhere? No!

IN FRONT OF THE BENTLEYVILLE BEST WESTERN. You know it. You can't even take a picture of this piece of history without a Best Western sign in front of it.

You can see all of the pictures here. And you should look at them. But here are my four favorites:


Big Jim: Ass Up to the Sunlight


Ladies love Big Jim.


Gunslingers!


Go West, bitches.

I end with a haiku.

Big Jim. Such a man.
Balls of steel. Literally.
Bentleyville icon.

 

I Drag You Down With Me

So, the question of the week has been "How much damage can a relationship take before it can't be salvaged?"

Let me set this to bed: I speak not only of my current sort-of-relationship. I speak also of other relationships in my life, and I speak of other people's relationships. Because "the hive"(tm RJ) this week has been discussing this extensively via email, chat, MySpace, phone, whatever. Which is funny because this other thing I'm writing on is about love that doesn't die no matter what. My headspace has had to shift a dozen times.

(And let me also say to warn you mostly about this possibly being a disjointed thought process, that, right now, I'm so busy that what's happening is that I write a paragraph of blog entry and then a paragraph of a business plan. It's not conducive. I'll try to do an edit before I post to make things stick together more).

So, I'm sure that, by now, being grown adults, we've all seen relationships that:

a. Suffered some trauma, decided to make it work, and in the end we were all happy that people found a way to make their relationships survive. We'll call this "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger syndrome."

b. Suffered some trauma, decided to make it work, and in the end we were all like "MAN, they should have just let go. They'll NEVER end up happy now." We'll call this "I'd rather be miserable than alone syndrome."

c. Suffered some trauma, fell apart, and both people ended up happier afterwards. Often, they even end up great friends. We'll call this "Sometimes the universe delivers even if it has to force it syndrome."

d. Suffered some trauma, fell apart, and then nobody ever really moved on and they stayed angry and hurt. We'll call this "What the fuck? Life is too short syndrome."

And of course, there are a lot of variations in between. The big variation is that, in lots of cases, one person experiences one thing and another person experiences another thing. But I'm trying to keep it simple.

Firstly, let us define trauma. Trauma is not, by my definition, "I want to change careers midlife." Or "I lost $500 betting the Super Bowl." Or "I called you a fucking bitch while we were arguing." Examples of "trauma" would be:
- I lied to you excessively in a malicious way
- I cheated on you, once or many times
- I lost our entire life savings gambling while not telling you I was spending it
- I've been hiding the fact that I have a drug problem from you
- Did I not mention that STD before we got together?
- I have, intentionally or otherwise, systematically controlled and berated you in a way that tore down your self esteem or caused you to lose all trust and confidence in me
- I cannot have children, though having children was always an understood part of the reason we were together
- I've committed a horrible crime and am going to jail
- More than 75% of all the time we spend together is spent yelling and crying over a thousand different issues over a time period of more than a year.

Listen, I didn't make any of those up. They're all real life examples from me or people I know.

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger Syndrome
So, somewhat obviously, because I am not married nor have I ever been in a committed relationship that lasted longer than five years, I have never personally experienced this. And before you email me (and you know who you are) and say "Well, you know me and I fit that category", let me just say that you may think you're in that category and I may think you're more like a person in the "Rather be miserable than alone" category. Anyway, I've never experienced this particular syndrome, is my point.

Now, that's also not to say that I don't know long term relationships and marriages that are awesome and that I really admire. And for all I know, those relationships have undergone some kind of trauma that I don't know about, because sometimes people keep things private even though that is clearly a foreign concept to me. I'm going to say that I doubt that because in most cases I know those people pretty well and have discussed relationships with them a lot and I think I would have been told if the relationship had suffered some huge trauma. The argument might be made that in relationships that are that strong, while all relationships have adversity, those people have great enough communication and desire to make each other happy that the type of things we're qualifying as trauma wouldn't happen. What I'm saying is that I have never experienced, nor have I seen, a relationship that suffers one of the types of things we've described above and ultimately goes on to preserve itself in a healthy, functional way. Please, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

And, this, this concerns me. Because above all else, I am a girl who makes decisions by the numbers. And, looking at my current situation, the numbers may imply that the odds are very much against me, and in a couple of cases, my friends, too.

I'd Rather Be Miserable Than Alone Syndrome
But I know lots of these! You probably do, too! In fairness, in some of these cases, it's more about wanting to preserve an entire family unit and that's a more difficult situation to ponder, but there are lots and lots of relationships I've seen where the M.O. is to stay together even if one person is miserable -- shit, even if both people are miserable -- just because of any number of fears. Fear of feeling rejected, fear of never falling in love again, fear of never having somebody else fall in love with you again, fear of being alone, fear of losing a safety net, fear of being financially impacted, fear of hurting the other person...fear. I mean, again, simplifying because I'm sure there are other reasons people stay in those situations, but to me, they mostly read as fear.

I saw this thing on tv once (You know you're about to get something deep when a sentence starts with "I saw this thing on tv once"). It was a documentary on a retired athlete. And he and his wife had gotten divorced but were still friends. And he said, "I never thought divorce was a good thing, but then one day I woke up and thought, 'Life is so short. Why spend it in a way that makes two people unhappy on a daily basis instead of putting them into a spot where they could find happiness?'" And that resonated with me.

I have this actual list somewhere in some journal about minimum values I assign to myself (which would be an awesome blog entry in and of itself). One of those is about not letting anybody else control whether or not I'm happy. Maybe, just maybe, this makes me a little ill-suited to relationships. But maybe if more people decided to take ownership of their own happiness they wouldn't feel like they needed relationships to make them happy, and they'd be more selective about choosing partners to enhance their happiness rather than feeling like they needed a partner to make them happy. I think I know relationships that work like this. I think I've seen them. But then again, I am not always privy to what goes on when people go home at night, so go figure.

In the relationships I admire most, both people want the other person to be happy so much that they wouldn't want the other person to stay in the relationship if they were miserable. They'd either find a way to make them happy or, if they just really couldn't do that, they'd find a way to let go. And maybe that's why I admire those relationships the most, because that's such a hard spot to get to.

But you know what's an even harder spot to get to? Recognizing when you're in a "Better miserable than alone" spot and moving out of it. Because it's pretty easy to convince yourself that you're not that miserable, or that things will change, or that issues have been caused by circumstances and not some essential flaw in your relationship, or that "it's not me, it's my partner and one day they'll wake up and make this better", or that this person really is THE ONLY PERSON YOU WILL EVER BE ABLE TO LOVE OR WHO WILL EVER BE ABLE TO LOVE YOU. Yeah, those are all hard headspace blocks to get through, and I know because I've fallen prey to them, sometimes for periods of years, before. I think, though, as an older, wiser me, I wouldn't be so prone to play the convincing game. Or give in to fears of letting go. But then again, I may be convinced that in some ways, in some circumstances, I'm doing that right now. This one's the kicker one, eh?

Sometimes the Universe Delivers, Even If It Has To Force It Syndrome
Could I have made that name any longer? Seriously.

I know this, too. In fact, I know a lot of this. In fact, this is pretty much all but one of my former relationships, if you don't count the former relationship in which the other party is no longer alive. D&J. S&L. S&P. I know lots of these. RJ and I, for example. While the six months before our breakup was, to say the least, incredibly painful for us and anybody around us, when we finally got to the part where we broke up, it was sad, but we had really discovered that while we love each other and want each other to be happy, that just was not going to happen in the form of being partners. And now we're incredibly close BFFs. And we're honestly both much happier. And we honestly want the other one to be happy. And we honestly make decisions based on that. And sometimes we still make each other crazy in the context of our friendship, but we're important parts of each other's lives and nobody discounted the two years we spent together and we found a way to translate that into something really good. Better, even.

And I just rattled off four examples of relationships that ended like this, even with some trauma involved. So, it can happen. It's the ideal, but it can happen. It should happen. Just, getting there involves a level of pain (like the first time you have to go out with your ex and his new girlfriend who is NOTHING like you- that wasn't great) and patience. But it is proof that in the right context, even things that ended with some trauma involved can lead to valuable relationships in your life. Some of the most valuable relationships in your life, probably. Just the process of getting there is awful.

What the Fuck? Life is Too Short Syndrome.
And, I KNOW we all know a lot of these, right? I've seen them. They're ugly. And while I've never been the party who won't let go of the anger, I've been on the receiving end of having somebody decide to never accept the way things are and find a new place to be in each other's lives and still be good for each other. I know people who, years and years into a new relationship, are still dealing with the hurt and anger of an old relationship's ending. And you know what? In some cases, I can absolutely understand that. Some damage is too deep to ever let go of. Some stuff messes you up for the rest of ever. Maybe not every day, but some of it never goes away. Yes. It's true. There are some things that are so awful they will probably never be let go of.

And then again, there are some things that aren't so awful, and in that case, you need to learn to say "Life's too short to feel this bad about things." And let go. But I've been in the room with exes before where they both walk in and people hold their breath waiting for the explosion, or one of them crying in the bathroom, or just feeling uncomfortable because they know that at least one of the two people is having a miserable time. It's a hard call, because I do think that some things, some times, are so bad that it's okay to never get over them. But then again, sometimes I think people choose to not get over things because being angry and hurt is, honestly, sometimes less painful than trying to focus on good things about past relationships and people and watching somebody else get happy while you're still dealing with the pain of the breakup.

And so here we are at math. And also, now we are clearly not talking about anybody's situations other than mine.

I have no interest in holding on to any kind of anger, distrust, hurt, whatever and falling into the "Life is too short, fuck it." category.

I have even less interest into falling into the "Rather miserable than alone" category. The problem being, of course, that I'm not sure I would be falling into that category anyway. There has only ever been one real problem in the relationship that's at the front of my mind. But it was a long-term and ongoing problem that was only addressed and solved when I finally ended the relationship. And then it was only done once it had been made abundantly clear that really, honestly, there wasn't a future with the circumstances the way they were. And of course, the argument could be made that "But at least it was done. At least in the end he cared enough to give you what you needed." But then again the argument could be made (and is certainly the one that I would be making to me if I were giving me third party advice) that the situation should have never have gotten that far. That, as Hil put it, it's been proven to me again and again that this pattern is a repeating pattern and I probably shouldn't expect it to change. OH SO CONFUSING. Remember above when I said that the key was recognizing when you're doing this versus when you're giving yourself the best chance to be in the ...

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger Club.

But math, right? Math! Who ends up there? Do you know anybody who ends up there? And how many people stay in the "Better Miserable Than Alone Club" rather than doing the hard work, the HARD HARD work to end up in the The Universe Delivers Even If It Has To Force It club out of fear, or hopefulness (and let's not even debate if hopefulness is the same as fear). How many people say "I'm not sure I'm not just staying in a 'better miserable than alone' situation. We really could end up in a 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger' situation. It was only one problem. I know he loves me. I know I love him. There's no reason this can't work!" Even though we ALL know by this point how silly that attitude can be. On the other hand, love is what drives the world and we should try to find ways to honor it.

And so 2500 words later I have worked NOTHING out except to organize thoughts and get caught up in math. MATH of all things. And I should probably listen to KALM who wisely told me that to overthink is to sabatoge. But to underthink is to beg to stay in patterns that may or may not be good.

Arghhhhh! You MUST be as frustrated as I am right now. You're welcome. I will leave you with a haiku that sums this up, and also, email answering tomorrow, btw.

My problems would be
solved with five minutes alone
with Blake Lewis. Yum.

 

LA in April is not like Paris in April, but it's pretty damn good.

This is like a little blog-type scrapbook of the last four days or so. Enjoy. Fun times.

How does this happen? HOW?????
There's some debate about at what point in the evening we should have realized that our "non-rager, just dinner and drinks with the girls" was going to turn into something that was more like the polar opposite of a "non-rager, just dinner and drinks with the girls." I originally thought that the moment of realization happened when we left the "calm" place where we were starting the night and went to a club. shimmy walked in and said, "It's sweaty in here. I like it."

shimmy, however, corrected me. The moment of realization really should have come five minutes after we walked into the place we were having dinner. It should have happened when, after the hostess took us to a lovely table in a quiet area where we could really have enjoyed a few cocktails, some tapas and some mellow conversations, we looked at her with confusion in our eyes and said, "But, but, we want that table. The one right by the bar."

Yep. We sure did start the night out looking pretty and made-up. With napkins on our laps and a discussion of the cheese plate and truffle oil. Making little hearts with our hands when we took photos. Not saying things that clearly foreshadowed where the evening was going. Not saying things like "My friend needs another cocktail so she can build up the courage to talk to that guy" or "Your boobs are like a magnet to Bob." No, look. In fact we look like well-behaved, sweet ladies in these pictures.




And then, no less than five hours later, we had somehow acquired a posse of boys to be our entourage and the scene had degenerated to this:






I don't know how it happens. I continue to believe we're capable of having mellow evenings. Just all photographic evidence seems to imply otherwise.

Things Friends Do For Friends
Friends will do three very important things for their friends.

Least Important but HOT: Friends will make their sexy face in .004 seconds flat as soon as a camera comes out to ensure good evening photos.


Of Importance ALWAYS: Friends will devise evil revenge plans with friends (JOKING - don't get stressed)


Of the MOST IMPORTANCE: Friends will make sure that friends don't have to spend their entire evening looking at unfortunate muffin top.


I missed the part where Shalom was THIS MUCH TALLER THAN ME
Maybe it's the power of persuasion, but you do feel peaceful around him, you know? Pookie, Shalom says to email him, you schmuck.


Five Haiku About Sunday Night

Three small girls should not
order this much food, beware
getting muffin top

I am embarrassed
to admit we did not wait
to use silverware

If those people do
not get up from OUR table
it will get ugly

Big Lots of fashion
brand names from hoochie stores, and
KALM KNOWS hoochie stores

Basic Rule of Life:
Never tell your own father
You teach blow job class.

Ruining the Illusions of Men Everywhere
shimmy and I had a sleepover on Sunday night. To encourage your fantasies, this sleepover did involve:

- us in our nighties
- red wine
- chocolate covered strawberries
- an inflatable bed

But you wanna know what we did? We watched Deadliest Catch. Yes, don't fool yourself. There were no pillow fights. There was no making out of any kind. Nobody tickled anybody. We watched men who smell like fish and don't shower or shave for days on end pulling huge crates of Alaskan King Crab up out of the ocean for HOURS. We said things like "There's not a lot of crab in that case. They'd better make up time." and "He just got hit by a huge chunk of ice! Watch out!" It wasn't hot. I know I got you thinking that this was hot with the nighties, red wine, strawberries and inflatable bed, but boys, we watched crab fishing all night. I'm just being honest.

Proof That Not EVERYBODY Breaks Up in the Spring
It was nice to spend some time with people who have known you since you were three feet tall, who have overcome amazing individual obstacles and who have fought all odds to build this amazing marriage. Thanks. Seriously. All we talked about all weekend with EVERYBODY was people leaving people. You were very inspiring. If you'd told me when I was sixteen and you were passed out in my bed between me and Melsa drooling on my pillow that you'd teach me lessons 16 years later, I would not have believed you. You'll get everything you want. Because you've learned how to make that happen.


Sometimes, You Only Wish You Had My Life
Though I can guarantee you that there was a huge part of Tuesday where you wouldn't have wanted my life. But two SUPER AWESOME things happened!

First, I got to take a ride-along in a pace car being driven at speed by Rocky Moran Jr. on the actual track for the Long Beach Grand Prix. And let me tell you, that was as awesome as it sounds. You SHOULD be jealous. That shit is ridiculous. And also, because there is always a story, you know, it went down like this.

The safety guy is strapping me into the car, and I see him adjusting the seat belt down really small, so I say to him, "That won't fit like that. I have really big hips." And he looks at me and makes a face like I don't know what I'm talking about. But, of course, when I go to get into the car, the seat belt is too small across my hips. And he looks at me, baffled, and says "Man, for a little, tiny thing, you sure do have big hips."

Thank you, sir.

Anyway, that would have been the highlight, except that end of the day, in what can only be described as a miracle of miracles, I GOT TO TAKE A RIDE-ALONG IN A DRIFT CAR AT SPEED ON THE TRACK!!!!!

Now, if you saw Fast and the Furious Three: Tokyo Drift, you already know what drift racing is. But in case you missed that gem, it's a race technique where, basically, instead of cornering around bends, you drive STRAIGHT AT THE WALL AT OVER A HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR and then, inches before you hit it, you force the car into a spin-out around the wall. And Ry and I are SO EXCITED to do a drive along. And I cannot tell you how amazing it was. The first time my driver headed to the wall at 120mph+, I honestly thought "What am I doing? It's actually entirely possible that this car will crash and I will die or be seriously injured. That could actually happen."

But that thought soon went away with the rush of adrenaline. IT WAS SO AWESOME.

As I'm being strapped into the car: "This driver doesn't speak a single word of English, so if you get scared and want him to stop drifting and just drive the course, he won't know what you're saying."

AWESOME.