Digi-Scene

Last night I swear I died and went to food heaven. If there isn't scrumptious stuff to eat in the next life, don't bother taking me Lord, cause I ain't going. I'm going to place a list of demands on God right here and now of things that must be stocked in the fridge and pantry of my mansion in the sky when I arrive:

• A full rack of ribs from Phil's BBQ
• An entire array of desserts from Extraordinary Desserts
• A full gallon of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
• Fresh raspberries and blueberries from Henry's

It goes without saying that all of this would be calorie free of course. Thanks in advance.

OK, I'll admit last night was entertaining. I mean REALLY entertaining. And that's the only reason I didn't call the cops.

I'm a small town girl that has little experience with living in the big city. I've seen in movies the kind of scene that went on last night, but never in person. I mean, how cliche is it to have your drunk former girlfriend show up at your apartment building and start yelling at you through the intercom at the door downstairs? And at 1:00 in the morning to boot?

Unfortunately, I only heard HER side of the conversation so I can only interpret the situation based on that. All I can say is, dude, I think you dodged a bullet by breaking up with her. She's a shreiker when she's upset. She also curses like a sailor when she's begging you to let her in. Also the fact that she was banging the phone against the wall when you wouldn't let her in to me is a big red flag. I think you are well rid of her.

I have a question for you though. You told her you loved her? Are you insane???? I'm assuming you're not 20 years old (based on the appearance of the shrieker in the street), so I gotta ask. What possessed you to tell her you loved her? I'll just assume your brain was sex addled at the time.

Piece of free advice for ya. Next time make sure the woman you're with knows what kind of woman she is. I mean a woman who thinks she's a queen bee when she's really a bar fly, is just a recipe for trouble.

Wearily yours,
The Woman in Apartment 40C

My worst fears were realized when I was told at the DMV this morning that because my old California license had expired, I was required to take the written driving test in order to renew it. After getting my mugshot taken (complete with deer in the headlights open-mouthed stare), I was given the dreaded #2 pencil, a multiple choice test, and was shown to a long counter where I could stand in complete silence with other similar panic-striken adults.

I handed in my test in the little wire basket and then slunk over to sit in one of those hard molded-plastic chairs to nervously await my fate.

"Kim?"
I scurried to the counter, hoping to avoid having them yell my score across the room at me. Though why I should care that a room full of strangers should know that I failed my driving test is beyond me.

"Yes, I'm Kim."
"You passed, ma'am."
"I passed?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Can you check the score again?"
"Yes, ma'am, you missed one question."
"I did?"
"Yes, ma'am, congratulations. We're taking a short survey to understand better our patrons preparation for the test. How many hours would you say that you studied for the test?"
"I didn't study."
"You didn't study?"
"No, ma'am."
"Not at all?"
"No, ma'am."

And that, my friends, is how I came to be allowed to drive the freeways of California with impunity...

I'll be spending this morning at the California DMV. 'Nuff said.

Pride weekend in San Diego was loud, flamboyant, and well.....wonderful. Makes me very glad that I've moved to a place with so much diversity. It also has me thinking a lot about how far gays have come in our culture and just how much more needs to be done. Miss you, Kirk and Larry....