I taught my best friend how do drive stick yesterday.We went to pick up her Kiarrhea, as she calls it from some guy in Pasadena and it's been sitting there burning a hole in her garage while she drives her old car which clicks when she turns, has no seat belts, and starts when it's in the mood. Also, if the driver wants to get out, she has to roll down the window and open the door from the outside. My friend started to do this out of force of habit in her new car, and the poignancy of how she'd improved her quality of life made her eyes glisten. She's very sweet like that, but she fluctuates. She called me at 10:30 and demanded that I come over. I told her I'd be over in 25 minutes and she absolutely had a fit. That actually meant that I'd leave my house in ten minutes, and I can't really see how anyone could promise anything better.
When I finally got there and the lesson began she didn't even stall THE FIRST TIME she put the car into gear. For all of you automatic drivers, this is basically unheard of. I started to get my hackles up because I had a much harder time, and it just wasn't fair. But, then I remembered it was her lesson and this was the best possible result. I was trying to comfort myself that she was probably a ringer anyway. No one is that good that fast. So I sat there in awe of her talent until she tried to cross Wilshire and screamed, “Fuck you! Go around me!” I suggested that she roll her windows up because although Brentwood's not a very violent neighborhood, and I appreciate her frustration, not everyone else does. Finally, she just started yelling, “I hate you, you douche bags! Fuck you all!!!!!” And even though the windows were closed, an old woman on the corner who wasn't even driving flipped her off. I tend to use the nomenclature, “old ladies,” but if you proffer the bird, you forfeit your title.
A friend from my past contacted me and we ended up trading scripts, but a script from a friend has no chance of getting made and I read the first ten pages with tepid enthusiasm about five times before he said,”Ok. Let's get together this week.” I agreed, pretending to have read it, dusted off his baby and got cracking. IT WAS TERRIFIC! I think I'm legally not allowed to give away the premise, but it's way better than what my agents have been submitting to me. So, we ate at La Cabana and watched Shrek 3 and now all I have to do is sign a letter of intent and it's a done deal. I know there will be many more hurdles in the road, but it's so good I feel it could have been like the copy of American Beauty that I found when I was moving out of my Dad's house which I never read and have kicked myself about ever since.
Went to SMC to take English aptitude tests and was feeling very uppity about the whole process until I read a question about the linguistics of city names in New Jersey and had absolutely no idea what the answer was- I thought this was comprehension, not geography, you turkeys! Lowered my nose and my tail and completed the exam. A writing class, complete with deadlines and new people will keep me happy and busy until I'm whisked away to some exotic clime for work. Hope, hope.
I gave another friend a car a year ago, and she's since gotten about seventy two tickets on it, all in my name, and disappeared into the ether. We were supposed to get together this morning but of course something incredibly pressing came up and she simply HAD TO reschedule. Was fuming until another friend called me up asking me to join his kickball team- Jubilance!-and telling me about the dirty, drunk, scary clown he sent to his friend's office to sing an “I'm sorry,” ditty for her birthday. Wish I had thought of that when I got the three minute dumping phone speech. I would have just sent him to my boyfriend's serenading,”It's over,” and said that the clown had already been on his way when he called. Harumph.