Amorous Mini-Van Driver Busts Juice Rocking Out During Midnight Commute

I am not so bothered by the fact that my stereo was stolen because I usually provide my own entertainment anyway. I am cognizant of the fact that I am the only person who appreciates my singing, and see, I'm OK with that. I have a whole reportoire that I go through when I drive home at night. Usually I start with Ani Difranco or Aimee Mann, then sometimes I do Norah Jones, Natalie Merchant, or Tracy Chapman, and if I'm feeling extra spunky, I'll work in some Janis Joplin, too. As you can see, there is much ground to cover during the 10-minute commute.

So, tonight, I was rocking out to Bobby McGee when I noticed that there was a mini-van driving next to me and motioning for me to roll my window down. WTF? Since I was just in the middle of that one piano riff between verses anyway, I rolled down my window to see what he wanted. He yelled "YA GWEDDMOUGOOIUDZ." (Conditions were not so conducive to communication. You see, we were driving at 65 mph on Hwy 94 at 12:30 a.m., and it was raining.) I yelled back, "What!?" I was swerving way over the line and practically crashing into the side of his vehicle so as to communicate with him. Did I have a flat tire? Do I have a tail light out? Was there a body hanging out of my trunk? He shouted again: "You're gorgeous!" and gave me a thumbs-up! Hilarious! A thumbs-up? (Male readers: Try this in a bar sometime). I shouted back: "OK, Thanks!" Yeah, right buddy. It's pitch dark out and you're driving a beige mini-van. I know you couldn't see my face and anyway you're going to have to do better than that if you want an autograph. As I turned off for my exit, I looked over at him and he blew me a kiss. Nice. Nothing like a little random romance on the freeway.

In other news, I stopped in to see The Gnome and little baby Esther today. She's so tiny and cute! I got to hold her and put her to sleep and lay her in her crib *ever so carefully*--then tip-toed out of the room so LA and I could talk. It worked! She actually stayed asleep for about 20 minutes. Was so fun to see her now that I'm not hacking up a lung. The Gnome's cat Trouble is a holy terror. She is so fat and mangey and crabby and feisty and has a bad attitude. She's like the chubby girl in middle school--you know, the stinky kid--who never quite got along with other kids so she turned mean and lashed out at everyone. We discussed having a kitty prom so that Trouble could be vindicated for some of this teen angst. We'd crown her kitty prom queen or whatever, and everyone could come with their kitties. Iggy would throw pig's blood on her or something. It will be like Pet Semetery (sp?) meets Carrie.

Speaking of kitties, I am very crabby with Car & The Wiz. I just lovingly hand-washed one of my nice sweaters, and laid it flat to dry on the dining room table. When I got home today, it was completely full of kitty hair. Did those little bastards have a wrestling match on it or what? URG!