book 'em Dan-o, he's 5-0! and the festiva sings its swan song
September 15, 2002, 6:34 pm

We threw a surprise party for my father's 50th birthday last night. The bugger knew about it and acted all surprised.

Turns out that one of the football coaches, who didn't come to the party anyway, said "Hey Bob, see you tomorrow!" to him on Friday night. That's when he suspected it.

Oh bother.

It seemed to go well. All the Greeks were huddled around the tv watching the embarrassment that was the Maryland game, and my dad received a lot of cool gifts of the Maryland Terrapin persuasion; he also received a lot of gifts having to do with Viagra or some other sexual thing, which was mortifying for his daughters to witness.

There are some gifts that dads shouldn't get. And my parents didn't wake up until noon today. Ugh.

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In other biensoul news, the pregnant roller skate has probably skated its last jaunt around the Baltimore beltway.

My car, my beloved car, blew up on Friday night.

Now, it was my fault. I neglected it and made it go without a lot of oil or a tune up since the beginning of July. I had put almost 6,000 miles on it in just three months. I was a cruel mistress, indeed.

But I didn't expect it to just give up on me.

"Come on! Come on! Move it! Don't give up!" I said in my best coach's voice as it sputtered and coughed its way down 97 South; I moved it gently to the side and gazed in horror at the engine light which had blinked on.

I'm fiscally irresponsible. I have no money to buy a new car. Even if I did have some money, if I applied for credit, the car guy would laugh in my face.

"Let's see, Miss Biensoul, let's see your credit rating...I'm very sorry to tell you this, but my screen is flashing red and the Visa S.W.A.T. team will be here momentarily..."

Glass breaks. A dozen soldiers dressed in black repel on wires into the car dealership to break my kneecaps and scream about APR rates and etc.

End scene.

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