Volvo, anyone?

If you knows anyone that loves to fix up cars or loves Volvos or both, have I got the car for you! Or your friend. Or your friend's friend.

Her name is Mulva.

She's 22 years old and a lovely shade of light blue. She's a wonderful girl and needs to go to a home that can give her more love than I can.. afford. I've spent a lot of money in the past, but once I bought Jack, started neglecting her. I have itemized info on what I've had fixed and what is still waiting for work. Also, there's no faceplate for the stereo, both driver's side door handles don't open from the outside and the reverse lights and dome light don't work. And that's just the icing on the cake. I'm going to ask $700 but will be happy with $500. But, shh, don't tell anyone.

I'm sure I can get a buyer on Craigslist, but was hoping to first offer to her someone, anyone, I know. She's been my baby for 9 years and I can't just send her off to anyone.

I'm anticipating tears, pints of gelato, and days spent in pajamas, but it's time to let her go.

It's official.

I'm really excited for my birthday weekend. Not just because I love a day (which I usually drag into an entire week) where I get to celebrate all that is NJ and have others pay attention to me, but.. no, that's pretty much why I love it.

This year is 28. It's not really that old in the grand scheme of things. And I know anyone who is older than 28 will tell me to shove it, but bear with me.

Since I am ONLY 28, most of what I remember in my life has happened in my 20s. As I get closer to 30, I know things aren't really going to change, but shouldn't they? Will they? All I'm sure of is that I'm going to spend the weekend drunk at the beach and it's supposed to be 75 and sunny and I can't WAIT!

Now, this was all a set-up to get you into the mindset I've been in for a few weeks. Now, fast forward (or rewind) to this evening at work. We hired a new girl, senior at Sunset, 17, adorable. She tells me that I remind her of someone. Someone from TV. Uh-huh, I say, go on.

Do you remember the show Gilmore Girls, she asks? Oh, I used to love that show, I respond. Sensing something big, and preparing for the worst, I urge her to continue.

You remind me of the mom. Remember when she opens the bed and breakfast? I can totally see you doing that, she states, unwittingly and casually ruining any false hope I had of staying young forever.

Now, don't get me wrong here. There are FAR worse people I could remind a young person of... I suppose. And Lorelai was only a teenager when she had Rory, so I guess in the first few seasons the mom was barely older than I am now.

But still. The mom. THE MOM. As in, I am now officially grown up. Old.

At least I didn't remind her of Gangy from Arrested Development. If I'd had a martini in hand, it'd be a different story.

I heart the Daily Show.

How to disarm a solicitor.

The scene: 8:30ish on a Wednesday. Friends from out of town are visiting. We haven't seen them in 12 years and it's been quite a night.
Everyone's been drinking, except for Nicole Janelle (she has to lose those last 20 pounds by Oktoberfest.)

The doorbell rings. The porch light is out. Nicole jumps up and runs to the door, yelling, "I'll get it!"

Nice Looking Young Man in Button-Down Shirt: Hi, how are you this evening?

Nicole Janelle: I'm great! How're you?

NLYMIBDS: I'm fine, thanks. I'm here with the Democratic National Committee...

NJ: Oh, good for you!

NLYMIBDS: Oh, yes. Um, so I'm hoping to talk to you about Sen. Barack Obama, have you given any thought to his message?

NJ: Oh, sure, hope, change, all that good stuff. But I'm still undecided. I need to really look at each candidate, what they really want, their voting records, all that. But I am leaning left. I usually do.

NLYMIBDS: You know then, that Sen. McCain has been through four cancer treatments for...

NJ: I know, right?! Plus he's really old. I was totally just talking to a co-worker about that. He's like two generations older than me, that probably won't end well.

NLYMIBDS: Right. So what do you think of the choice McCain has made?

NJ: Dude, I don't even WANT to talk about her. That woman pisses me totally off.

NLYMIBDS (slowly backing away): Okay, sounds like you're pretty involved in what's happening.

NJ: Damn right, I have a voice!

NLYMIBDS (backing away further): And you're planning to vote, you're all registered and ready?

NJ: You better believe it! (chases NLYMIBDS down the steps) Look at my temporary tattoo! It says "Smart Women Vote" and she's wearing a crown!

NLYMIBDS: That's a good one. Well, you have a great night.

NJ: Thank you! You too! Keep reaching for the stars!!

END SCENE

To serve man.

I've stopped. Stopped serving, stopped caring. For the last month or so, I was never happy with anything. Too stressed, too pissed, not ever pleased. That's when I knew it was time to leave. So I left. I'm not a waitress anymore. I'm still in the food industry, and I have fun at my low stress, boss people around, mostly old people clientele job, but I'm ready for a change.

So I'm going back to school. Fourth time's a charm, right? I'm certain it'll stick this time. I'm shooting for a degree in journalism, I'm just not sure what kind. I'm too much of a fatty to be ON TV, so maybe in the shadows writing the teleprompter script for all the pretty anorexics. I'm far too skinny and attractive to be working in newspaper (those people are UGGOS!) so perhaps I'll settle for magazines or the Interweb. Anyone can write on the Interweb.

The goal? To write travel books. But how many other people have that goal? I imagine it's pretty much the best job on Earth. Especially if you're forced to write about Ireland or the Bahamas.

Oy.

So here's to high hopes and even higher student loans.

Wish me luck!