That's My Bix!

So far this week, I made soup, got sick and also, had a crazy meeting, and have threatened to go into hiding, perhaps in the Yukon. Which I’m not sure if I know where that is but it sounds really good. Alaska, right? I hope so.

I finished my story for class and also, can’t believe the semester is almost over. In fact, this Tuesday was the last time the class would meet in our classroom, since next week, we’re meeting at Professor McDreamy’s house, to workshop said story and also one more and also, drink of the wines. Well, they will be, I’ll be drinking of the mineral water, as I will, as ever, have a 90 minute drive home.

However, in cool news, the boat story was plucked by the program and submitted to a national thingy/competition/whosits, which was pretty awesome, because I didn’t have a clue that it was being considered. Of course, I have this problem where I’m freaked out by attention and performance anxiety when it comes to my prose, but I also just wanted to find Dr. Frank and be like “Not a good fit!? Denied acceptance three years in a row? Suck it, bizatch!” but I am a very serious artiste and above such childishness. Of course.

Still, I hope he’s sucking it. Just a little.

The thing that pisses me off the most in this world these days seems to be a sloppy windshield on my car. It makes me irate, as evidenced by my near panic while trying to find the Pope Hilarius cafeteria. For some reason, the factory-installed wiper on the Murano has always been ghetto, but I lived with it during the summer. However, now that it’s winter, we need to bring out the heavy guns. Esteban went down to the auto parts store and, against his better judgment, took the recommendation of the parts guy and bought some sort of cheapish blades, which of course, were an absolute disaster in the recent snowfall (although markedly better than the Nissan branded blades). I think my ideal windshield wiper would be a razor blade that scraped the windshield dry with every pass. None of those channels of smearing! Precision, people! I demand nothing less than perfection when it comes to my vision.

I called him and complained about the smearing and he sighed and said that he’d research the Murano message boards, which just boggles my mind. First of all, my way would have been to drive to the dealer, point at the streaking, shout “UNACCEPTABLE!” and then tap my foot until an appropriate blade was produced, perhaps by gloved footmen wearing white powdered wigs. However, Esteban derives strange levels of satisfaction when it comes to maintaining the cars. I didn’t even KNOW there were such a thing as Murano message boards, but apparently Esteban has researched this and frequents them. Wow, is all I can say to that. Just wow. The gloved footmen at the dealer can rest easy that Esteban is on the case.