Updates are coming, I swear! Until then, visit me on Twitter or LinkedIn for the latest news.
Updates are coming, I swear! Until then, visit me on Twitter or LinkedIn for the latest news.
I’m excited to be a part of this year’s Seattle Art Car Blow-Out at the Fremont Fair this weekend!
But (there’s always a but) the events leading up to it have been busy and anything but smooth. Our fearless leader Kelly Lyles informed us that KING5 had invited the art cars to participate in an Evening Magazine segment about the fair. So yesterday, I went home for lunch, put on a dress, did my hair and makeup, and attempted to drive to Power House (fair-prep headquarters) in Fremont.
Since Westlake is closed and probably will be until I die, I decided to take 99. It should have been an easy straight shot. Nope! Everyone and their elderly mother was scuttling around Pioneer Square yesterday afternoon, despite the pouring rain. Bad weather also heightened the traffic on multi-lane roads even though we should be used to it by now.
I finally arrived at Power House and I saw some art cars lined up across the street. Parking hadn’t been reserved for us, so we were scattered among the regulars. I’m guessing some clever video-editing will make up for it.
At this point, I should mention that Fremont has things in every possible place you could put a thing. Some of them are cool, some of them are obnoxious, and some of them are just plain stupid. If you could model a neighborhood based on a six-year-old’s bedroom, you’d have Fremont.
Anyway, I wish I had dismissed the person who told me to back up and take the place of a recently departed “straight” car. Amid the trees, traffic, and… things… was a short 30-minute parking sign so close to the curb that I had the pleasure of scraping my rear quarter panel against it.
Just in time for TV appearances and the fair! Yay!
A few moments later, the people from Evening Magazine finally made it out to our little line-up and said they’d interview us one-by-one. The other cartists were awesome to let me do my interview first so I could escape the time-consuming embarrassment that the day had become. Here I am getting prepped:
While the reporter put a mic on me, I had the chance to catch up with Clea, Fremont Fair’s head of marketing. She is reason I was able to display the hearse in front of the SEAF Launch Party last year, and it was tons of fun.
My interview was pretty short. I tried to keep it short and sweet, but I know I have a tendency to ramble. (Looking at the length of this post, you’re thinking, “No shit, right?”) They didn’t ask me any awkward questions, which, given the recent events, was definitely a concern.
Phase 1 of interviewing was complete. Phase 2 never happened.
Today I was supposed to join some early-rising art cars at the KING5 morning show at 7am. I woke up and got ready on time, but my car battery needed a charge before I could go anywhere. In an effort to be helpful to the light-starved camera crew yesterday, I turned on my rear-cab headlamps. In a mundane failure of pedestrian proportions, I forgot to turn them off after the interview and caused myself problems.
After calling the event organizer and then Triple-A, I gave up and changed out of my dressy clothes, annoyed that I had worn makeup two days in a row for nothing. Who the hell has time for that? Oh yeah, about half the women in America.
The guy who jump-started my hearse was super-nice and more excited about its uniqueness than most people in his position. Like those before him, he got to my place sooner than predicted. I’m a little surprised I haven’t been visited by the same person twice by now.
I could have made it to KING5’s studio around 7:45, but the organizer made it sound like anything before 7:30 was an absolute no-go. Fuck it, I had scratches to buff out.
So I headed out to Kirkland to see Dave at L-M Body Shop. I linked their yelp page because all of those positive reviews are absolutely deserved. Every time something stupid happens to my car, I feel like I’ve been punched in the face… until I go see Dave, who welcomes me in, hands me an ice pack, and imparts some encouraging words.
Jeremy immediately buffed out the scratch, and Carl fixed my hood latch, which was fresh on my mind after having to muck with it to have my battery fixed. In the meantime, Dave and I chatted over doughnuts and coffee. As I was leaving, I had to admit that despite the state of my car, I had a good morning.
You want to know how bad the damage was, don’t you? Well, go ahead and look for yourself. L-M did a great job in what short time they had.
Since I was in the neighborhood, I paid a visit to Jody at JJ Graphics. He did my rear decals way back in the day, and I wanted to see if he could redo my rear quarter panel decals once I could give Dave’s team more time to properly fix it. We also did some catching up as we peeled the lettering of my now defunct website off my rear window. He’s staying busy, which never seemed to be a problem for him, and I appreciate that he dropped what he was doing for a bit to listen to my woeful tales of the universe being out to get me.
Here’s Jody, trying to realign my stars:
By the way, did I mention that I have a regular 9-5 job that I like with people I respect? I had to be there, too. Job or no, I prefer not to do so much running around before a big event. In spite of that, I’ve spent time with some of Seattle’s most wonderful people this last 24!
Here’s the part where I attempt to reorient myself with automating my new(ish) internet presence so it’s faster, crasser and bad-asser than ever, leveraging every social media network in the free world. Remember the good old days when you just visited a damn website when you were interested in something? Pepperidge Farm remembers.
I’m all transferred now, thanks to the patient folks at Bluehost. Good-bye, Barbie. Hello, B*rb**!
Thanks to the fantastic guys at L-M Auto, the Boobie Dream Hearse has a fully functional set of headlights. I hate having to get my car fixed, but I like going to L-M, if that makes any sense.
Also, I hate having to deal with the SPD, but I’ve spoken with some kind and competent officers. The one who handled my case was nice enough, but said he probably couldn’t do anything. He then repeated this lamentation to one of my neighbors who reported an incident right after me. Yes, two more cars were vandalized just days after mine. But even if my hearse wasn’t the target of someone’s rage against death humor, I don’t feel much better. We put cameras all over the city, but we can’t put them in garages in quiet neighborhoods where we park our most expensive possessions.
I didn’t expect the cops to do much, since a broken headlight is considered a petty crime. Another thing I didn’t expect was how long it would take to report the incident. I discovered the damages on Saturday and called the non-emergency number. I was told that my issue would receive more attention if I could provide (mostly unhelpful) security footage. The property manager gave me the footage on Monday, and for the next three days I played phone tag with SPD’s crappy reporting system.
On Tuesday, they left a voicemail to recognize the fact that I had called a long-ass time ago and they still hadn’t sent anyone. The call back number went to a recording from the City of Seattle. The recording basically said, “Someone from the city called you. There’s no way to tell which department. There’s no way to tell who it was. If you’re trying to get in touch with someone here, go back in time to before the call was made and answer your phone, dickhead.”
Go ahead, give it a ring: (206) 733-9093.
While the folks at the SPD are doing their best to be public servants, whoever set up their POS phone system took the money and ran.
Someone bashed in my headlight while my car was parked in my own garage. More later. In the meantime, enjoy this transcript courtesy of the film, Pulp Fiction:
Lance: Still got your Malibu?
Vincent: Aw, man. You know what some fucker did the other day?
Vincent: Fucking keyed it.
Lance: Oh, man, that’s fucked up.
Vincent: Tell me about it. I had it in storage for three years, it was out for five days and some dickless piece of shit fucked with it.
Lance: They should be fucking killed. No trial, no jury, straight to execution.
Vincent: Boy, I wish I could’ve caught him doing it. I’d have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It’d been worth him doing it just so I could’ve caught him doing it.
Lance: What a fucker!
Vincent: What’s more chickenshit than fucking with a man’s automobile? I mean, don’t fuck with another man’s vehicle.
Lance: You don’t do it.
Vincent: It’s just against the rules.
I have complied with the Mattel’s requests to delete my twitter and facebook pages. I have tried several times to speak with their corporate lawyer about complying with their third request, which is to transfer this domain. No response.
So, for the three of you who decided to visit this site before it is ripped from my cold, dead hands, I thought I’d create a post.
Driving sucks right now, so I’m only doing it when I absolutely have to. Here’s a picture of me driving in the summer, holding a snake that some guy gave me.
Disclaimer: This could be older than dirt, but it’s the first time I’ve seen it. I’ll eventually get around to posting pictures from my busy October, but until then, innuendo and word-play shall prevail!
Renault and Ford have joined forces to create the perfect small car for women.
Mixing the Renault ‘Clio’ and the Ford ‘Taurus’ they have designed the ‘Clitaurus’. It comes in pink, and the average male car thief won’t be able to find it, let alone turn it on, even if someone tells him where it is and how to do it.
Rumor has it though, that it leaks transmission fluid once a month, and can be a real bitch to start in the morning! Some have reported that on cold winter mornings, when you really need it, you can’t get it to turn over.
New models are initially fun to own, but very costly to maintain, and horribly expensive to get rid of. Used models may initially appear to have curb appeal and a low price, but eventually have an increased appetite for fuel, and the curb weight typically increases with age. Manufacturers are baffled as to how the size of the trunk increases, but say that the paint may just make it LOOK bigger.
This model is not expected to reach collector status. Most owners find it is best to lease one, and replace it each year.
A little backstory: Pike Place Market is a big tourist attraction in Seattle. It is situated between our downtown area and the waterfront. The market spans a little three-block street, which for some reason is open to thru-traffic. It is also open to pedestrians, cyclists, vendor tents, weird dudes with snakes, street performers, and every other thing that makes driving impossible. You’re not going to score a killer spot in front of the first Starbucks or a waterfront with thousands of visitors a day. Don’t even try. Just don’t.
Here’s a map of the street on which no one should ever drive:
Thank you for your attention.