Dirt Graffiti
My car is dirty.
Not horrifically dirty, mind you, but dirty nonetheless. It's a Jeep, my grandparents live on a loooooong gravel road, and I don't care enough/don't have the cash to wash it. (Technically, the Jeep part doesn't really matter, except that there aren't many Jeeps of its age/ghettoness out there that are very clean. It doesn't fit with the character of the vehicle.)
Please explain to me the obsession random people have with writing in the dirt of cars. Seriously. I understand Ashli's little heart on my driver's door, but that's only because it's Ashli. The monstrous "Hello!" in the back windshield? I don't get it. It doesn't bother me, but it's kind of strange. The random swear words? Those bother me. What level of classlessness does that take, anyway?
Oh, and then there was Karl's addition, which was vastly predictable but only mildly irritating.
That's no less than five "inscriptions" in my dirt. I, being a stubborn person, still refuse/don't have the cash to wash it, and there will likely be more additions at the current rate. I just want to know why.
In other news, it's a gorgeous September day out there and I'm doing homework inside. Silly me. I think it's time for a tall glass of concentrated grape Kool-Aid (so concentrated that, without ice, it could just eat through all that dirt on my Jeep and just make it extra sticky for the next leaf-ridden gust of wind) and a lawn chair on our patio with my design homework.
Yes. Kool-Aid and a lawn chair. The answer to all of life's problems.
At least today.
Can you imagine an imaginary menagerie manager imagining managing an imaginary menagerie?
Not horrifically dirty, mind you, but dirty nonetheless. It's a Jeep, my grandparents live on a loooooong gravel road, and I don't care enough/don't have the cash to wash it. (Technically, the Jeep part doesn't really matter, except that there aren't many Jeeps of its age/ghettoness out there that are very clean. It doesn't fit with the character of the vehicle.)
Please explain to me the obsession random people have with writing in the dirt of cars. Seriously. I understand Ashli's little heart on my driver's door, but that's only because it's Ashli. The monstrous "Hello!" in the back windshield? I don't get it. It doesn't bother me, but it's kind of strange. The random swear words? Those bother me. What level of classlessness does that take, anyway?
Oh, and then there was Karl's addition, which was vastly predictable but only mildly irritating.
That's no less than five "inscriptions" in my dirt. I, being a stubborn person, still refuse/don't have the cash to wash it, and there will likely be more additions at the current rate. I just want to know why.
In other news, it's a gorgeous September day out there and I'm doing homework inside. Silly me. I think it's time for a tall glass of concentrated grape Kool-Aid (so concentrated that, without ice, it could just eat through all that dirt on my Jeep and just make it extra sticky for the next leaf-ridden gust of wind) and a lawn chair on our patio with my design homework.
Yes. Kool-Aid and a lawn chair. The answer to all of life's problems.
At least today.
Can you imagine an imaginary menagerie manager imagining managing an imaginary menagerie?
Comments
Jessica
P.S. Everything is going GREAT!!!