Bitch Bitch Bitch

I think that the Audi is a gonner.

A friend of a friend was over here along with the friend and her two daughters, for 10 hours on Sunday. The entire car was taken apart and the water pump and heater core replaced.
Trust me. This involved taking apart the dashboard, console and every other portion of the damned front end.
The Audi now runs but the stereo no longer works and oh yeah….it spews smoke.
Diagnosis: the engine went sideways when the car overheated due to the water pump and heater core.
Bottom Line: the new (new for me and was to last for 5 years) car I purchased three months ago, and drove for 3 weeks, is now a pile of shit.

Wait (I hear you say) what else is making you kvetch?
Well (I hear myself say) it could be the move.
There’s a reason no one likes moving. It sucks ass. Oh yeah it’s time consuming as hell when you’re single. There’s the triple reason no one wants to help. It hurts your back and every other part of your anatomy. Including the psyche.

So I’ve got two two two stressors going right now.
Stress bad. Alcohol good but if I drink I can’t accomplish the moving.
Oh the horror.

The blogs have fallen off to virtually nada here. These are my reasons.
Do you like them?
Do you think they’re sexy?
Do you think they’d do well on the catwalk?

Yours in the Abyss of Everyday Life,

~Miss R

currently listening to:
Elliot Smith

I’ve misplaced Sparks again

Today I misplaced two full blocks of Sparks, Nevada. You know the ones I mean? They include 175 Glendale Avenue where the NAPA Auto Parts store is.
The one where my Audi part is waiting.
The part that I already paid for.

I Googled the directions and yet when I drove over there the entire block was missing. The street addresses went from 115 Glendale to 1105 Glendale. Right where you cross over Rock Blvd.

Now for all I know the block disappeared months ago. I rarely venture into Sparks. It’s kind of like a no man’s land right there anyway. Not quite Reno and not quite the City of Sparks. It even looks like a demilitarized zone. Rundown, scary and not a place to settle down and raise a passel of little kids. Or even little winos.
Maybe if your children were partial to Sterno you’d consider moving into this ’transitional’ neighborhood.
So you could transition into fucking abject poverty and head lice. And Sterno.

Anyway, the entire exercise stressed me out and I returned home sans Coolant Reservoir. Figured I’d done enough cruising up and down Glendale Avenue for one afternoon. Hell it was such a blast I’m gonna do it again tomorrow.
After I call NAPA and ask them where they’ve moved their block to.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
It’s Not Big It’s Large
By: Lyle Lovett and His Large Band

Skiing with The Goddess Rachael

So I finally got in the first skiing of the season.
Oh sure you scoff. You say ‘Why Rachael! The season will be over in another three weeks.’
This may be true. Actually it is.
Fiddle De Dee.
Today was spec-fucking-tacular.

Figured out how to use the ‘ski bag’ option on the Audi and it’s pretty spiffy.
You open a panel in the back seat and a ski length rubber/plastic tube rolls out. It extends through the middle of the backseats. Your skis don’t drip water all over the car and you have the entire cargo area for boots, jackets, bags, chainsaws and body parts.

Coolness. No wrestling the back seats down or manhandling the skis and poles onto the roof. I like.

This is my first year without a season pass at Mt. Rose, making the pastime of skiing hard on the wallet. So, it’s a good thing I didn’t have a vehicle or any cash until late in the season after all. Flying Spaghetti Monster works in strange and mysterious ways.
Similar to myself.

Started off on a green run to make sure I was still as spastic as last year. Check.
Took the next run a bit faster, then by the third run was working on style (it’s a way of doing!) and by the fourth was almost up to speed.
By the fifth run of the morning I was flying. I felt like a Goddess of the Snows.

I forgot that there’s something I’m actually good at.

A feeling of euphoria and perfect happiness comes when your body, mind, heart and soul are in sync.
It is the moment when body goes on auto-pilot and mind catches the sights and feelings without working on the mechanics of the act.

It’s difficult to articulate.
To paraphrase the Supreme Court… ‘I know it when I feel it.’

For me it only happens with skiing and playing music.

Today I felt that total integration. The sheer joy. I laughed and cried and grinned like a fool.
It’s my religion and spiritual path. Thankfully church was virtually deserted and I had the place to myself.

By the last few runs I had the iPod cranked to 11 and was scaring the crap out of the boarders on Kit Carson and the Slide side back bowl.

I’m screaming down that last run singing along at the top of my lungs and purposely kicking up snow when I carve….

Am pretty sure some guy mouthed ‘who the fuck was that bitch with the braids screaming Bowie tunes?’

Well that about covers my morning. Will be back up there again tomorrow. There are Black Diamonds to conquer and it’s Ladies Day;  a lift ticket is $19.00. Cheap cheap cheap.
Also similar to myself.

Tonight I’m gonna cuddle up with a big bottle of ibuprofen and a heating pad. The quads are already screaming in agony.
Oddly enough my past week at the gym hasn’t made up for missing the previous 6 months of work-outs.
Go figure.
I like the burn, and after all… Pleasure is the child of pain.

~Miss R

Why the Germans Will Always Lose the War

It’s the cars.
No not the cars specifically.
To be more precise it’s the engineering tunnel vision.
I ditched the Zamboni (image 1) for a ’94 Audi (image 2) . Finally.

Love the new ride. Handles like a sports car, even though it’s a hatchback with AWD. I can make it up the mountain and ski again. Thank goddess.
It also has 230,000 miles on it.
Said Teutonic-Mobile is in pristine condition. Meticulously maintained and not a dent on it. If you look under the hood -as with all German cars- it’s spotless and appears virtually free from mechanical devices or wiring. Weird.

Okay this is why the Germans are fucked forever:
I’d been out all day getting the thing smogged, registered, insured yadda yadda. I’d finally gotten to the gym and it was dark out.
I couldn’t figure out how to use the headlights. I’m parked in front of the gym and it’s pitch dark and I gotta get home.

Oh sure I appear the total cretin but it’s just an act.
Stop laughing right now.

I’ve had a bevy of cars over the years. New and Used. Foreign and Domestic. Just like the men in my life. So, what’s a girl to do? Why, grab the owner’s manual from the glove box; where by the way I DO keep a pair of gloves.

I peruse the glossary for anything resembling:
Headlights, operation of headlights, turning on headlights, headlamps, so you wanna use your headlights, where are the fucking headlight controls, headlamps R us… anything.
I find a single brief page on lights.
It explains in explicit detail the method in which to change the bulb in your headlight.

What I do find is more than 20 pages PLUS a full chapter on the ski bag feature.

Not that this is a bad thing. Especially since I ski. Hell I didn’t know that there was a ski bag feature. It’s just that all I wanted was to turn on the headlights.

I finally figure how to turn on the headlights. Accidentally. Despite the worthless manual.
Operation is totally counter-intuitive and involves two levers on the steering column.

I’m thinking of a ski trip tomorrow afternoon so maybe I’ll relax tonight. Grab a glass of something yummy and that hot spicy Audi owner’s manual.

And that’s why the Germans will never win a war.

They’re too concerned with the big picture. The options. The Fourth Reich.
Hey Shultz. What about a little fucking light in here? I can’t concentrate.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Seconds of Pleasure
By: Rockpile