In Vegas When You're Dead
Things to do when stuck in your car in a snowstorm in Pennsylvania for 20 hours:
Go through your glove compartment and throw out all of the old check stubs you throw in there after going to the bank and depositing your check. Throw them out the window and into the driving snow.
Realize you just threw away vital personal information contained on your check stubs and run back outside, gathering up as many of them as you can in the screaming wind and driving snow.
Get back in the car.
Turn on the seat warmer as high as it can go.
Compose mental haiku about your high school boyfriend.
Look through your purse for that Dove chocolate heart you stole from your attorney's office candy jar on Wednesday.
Decide to eat half of it, just in case.
Screw it. Eat the whole thing.
Crawl in the backseat.
Lie down and try to nap.
Realize that it is friggin' cold.
Watch the snow.
For an hour.
Start digging between the seats for Brach's restaurant mints wrapped in cellophane.
Find a pen.
Start writing farewell letters on the back of check stubs.
Spend 45 minutes deciding who should get custody of your cat and why, listing the various reasons that your brother is too selfish to think of anyone but himself and would likely kill the cat in 15 minutes.
Wonder if the cat is okay.
Check the cellphone for the one-millionth time.
Realize no one has called to see how or where you are.
Spend another hour composing a letter to all of your so-called friends who can't even be bothered to see if you're okay during this horrible snowstorm, even though they knew you were driving to New York for the weekend. Jerks.
Recompose your final will, giving your possessions to charity rather than to your rat bastard so-called friends.
Find a cold, dead fry under the front passenger seat and debate on eating it.
Screw it. Eat the fry.
Watch National Guard Humvees drive by. Are there still National Guard guys around? Who knew. Would they rather be in this snowstorm or in the desert. Consider the relative benefits of the desert versus a snowstorm. For an hour.
Watch snowplows drive by.
Watch the snow.
Start writing haiku about your favorite television shows.
List your top 5 television shows, kissers, songs of all times, episodes of Buffy, pieces of clothing you own, jobs you'd like, things you'd do with $1 million, places you'd like to go on vacation, men you should've married, men you shouldn't have had sex with, things you should've done before freezing to death in Pennsylvania.
Look at the caller id when the phone rings and ignore the call from your mother.
Go through your glove compartment and throw out all of the old check stubs you throw in there after going to the bank and depositing your check. Throw them out the window and into the driving snow.
Realize you just threw away vital personal information contained on your check stubs and run back outside, gathering up as many of them as you can in the screaming wind and driving snow.
Get back in the car.
Turn on the seat warmer as high as it can go.
Compose mental haiku about your high school boyfriend.
Look through your purse for that Dove chocolate heart you stole from your attorney's office candy jar on Wednesday.
Decide to eat half of it, just in case.
Screw it. Eat the whole thing.
Crawl in the backseat.
Lie down and try to nap.
Realize that it is friggin' cold.
Watch the snow.
For an hour.
Start digging between the seats for Brach's restaurant mints wrapped in cellophane.
Find a pen.
Start writing farewell letters on the back of check stubs.
Spend 45 minutes deciding who should get custody of your cat and why, listing the various reasons that your brother is too selfish to think of anyone but himself and would likely kill the cat in 15 minutes.
Wonder if the cat is okay.
Check the cellphone for the one-millionth time.
Realize no one has called to see how or where you are.
Spend another hour composing a letter to all of your so-called friends who can't even be bothered to see if you're okay during this horrible snowstorm, even though they knew you were driving to New York for the weekend. Jerks.
Recompose your final will, giving your possessions to charity rather than to your rat bastard so-called friends.
Find a cold, dead fry under the front passenger seat and debate on eating it.
Screw it. Eat the fry.
Watch National Guard Humvees drive by. Are there still National Guard guys around? Who knew. Would they rather be in this snowstorm or in the desert. Consider the relative benefits of the desert versus a snowstorm. For an hour.
Watch snowplows drive by.
Watch the snow.
Start writing haiku about your favorite television shows.
List your top 5 television shows, kissers, songs of all times, episodes of Buffy, pieces of clothing you own, jobs you'd like, things you'd do with $1 million, places you'd like to go on vacation, men you should've married, men you shouldn't have had sex with, things you should've done before freezing to death in Pennsylvania.
Look at the caller id when the phone rings and ignore the call from your mother.
posted by Miss Head at
6:32 AM
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