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April 01, 2005
Knitting, car talk, and self-help
Shannon and Jen came over for dinner, Survivor and knitting. And drinking, which I think should go without saying. (Dad: Diet Coke.) (Everyone else: Red, red wine.)
Shannon was appropriately impressed with the Kitty Pi. Thank you, thankyouverymuch. I meant to light the grill and make barbecued hamburgers and have a nice dinner for my guests. Instead, I served them the following:
1) One bag of Ruffles Potato Chips
2) One bag of Reese's peanut butter cups from Easter that were 1/2 off at Ralph's
3) Alcohol (Dad: Diet Coke)
The key to having a successful gathering is to always get your guests drunk enough that they don't care what they eat.
In this next pic, Jen looks like she's wearing the Crystal Palace "Splash" scarf I made her because she loves it soooooo much. Actually, I phoned her ahead of time, "Bring that scarf I made you that you never wear so I can take a picture of it! (you ungrateful wench)" and she was like, "Uh, I would wear it if it were, oh, you know, ever colder than 71 degrees. (you neurotic wacko)" It's so good to have friends who understand you.
Jennifer came and saved me yesterday when I had Car Issues. Here in California, sometimes you have to get your car smog checked and get a certificate that says you passed the smog inspection before you can receive new tags for the year. The lottery for who the hell has to get a smog certificate is the world's greatest mystery. This year, of course it happened to me. OF COURSE. And, you know, with how my luck has been this year, I knew as soon as I got the letter from the DMV that I would FAIL THE SMOG TEST and have to spend one million dollars and some change to get my Jeep fixed. If it could be fixed. 'Cause that's the kind of year I'm having.
This should come as no surprise then:
Also, I discovered something new about myself on this journey of fucking self-exploration I seem to be on, because try as I might I cannot avoid it, anyway, I discovered that now the way I handle bad news is to cry. Uncontrollably. So when the nice man at the smog check station came out to tell me I HAD FAILED the smog test, I cried. Like a baby. Because I am three.
As it turns out, however, being blonde and sad and crying while throwing in a "My husband is divorcing me and I don't know how to fix car things..." makes people feel sorry for you in a Blanche Dubois kind of way, which is to say I could either be crazy or simply in need of some kindness from strangers. Either way, it's magic the way they will do ANYTHING to get you to STOP CRYING right now, because really, please, I WILL DO ANYTHING if you just please STOP CRYING. So he calls a friend who can fix my car, and I take it there, to the friend of the smog check guy, and he will fix it, right then and there, and it will cost one million dollars but at least I have finally, Thank God, STOPPED CRYING.
But while I have finally stopped crying, for now, I am stranded in Studio City with no car. For hours. And since I have to spend one million dollars to fix my car, I can't really go shopping. So I called Jen. And she came to meet me.
Jen: Where are you?
Me: I'm in the bookstore in Studio City in the self-help aisle.
Jen: Um, ok, anything good?
Me: I'm reading "To Love, honor and betray."
Jen: Nice.
Me: Also, there's "Why Men Cheat" and "What Men Are Really Thinking" and my favorite, "Why Men Love Bitches."
Jen: Self-help is a load of shit.
Me: Don't you want to know why men love bitches?
And so on.
So she came, and rescued me from self-help, and we went to Starbucks and drank coffee and smoked until my car was ready. And then I had an epiphany. About men and car trouble and what I really, really need from a relationship. (Not that I ever want another relationship, because I don't, because I am a bitter old hag, but anyway, see fucking self-discovery exploration above, nothing I can do about it.)
You see, I have major car issues about three times a year. Without fail, I will get into a crash/get my car stolen/have a wheel fall off my Jeep and there is nothing you can do to avoid it. I have Bad Carma. This is just The Way It Is.
In the past, when my Bad Carma flared up, I would call Mr. X, crying, and he would be completely, utterly UNHELPFUL. Anti-helpful, really. Me: "(sniffle sniff sniff) My Jeep has flames coming from the hood." Him: "Uh, why are you calling me? Did you call Triple-A?"
Shithead.
Anyway, the point of all this is that Jennifer, who is a tee-tiny little thing and knows just as much about cars as I do (zero) came to my rescue in the exact perfect way that Mr. X, in eight years of marriage, never did. She said the magic words.
"Where are you? I'll be right there."
You see, Jen can't fix my car. But really, how many men can fix your car, anyway? You just end up taking it to a mechanic. None of us has a clue. That's fine. I don't need you to fix my car (I have Triple-A, THANK YOU SHITHEAD.) But you NEED someone to say, "I'll be right there." I need someone to say that. It's so easy. All a man has to do is hear me, on the phone, crying like a little girl with a broke-down Barbie Jeep, and say, "Baby, I will be right there. Then we'll go get drunk." THIS IS EASY, FOLKS. It is not brain surgery.
And yet this was not mentioned in one single self-help book. Self-help my ass.
Posted by laurie at April 1, 2005 08:21 AM
Comments
man, youre lucky to have people who do understand the whole barbie-help-me complex women have! most of my friends dont even have a clue..
Posted by: erika at April 1, 2005 08:57 AM
sorry about your car! yeah, most men don't get the whole.. i don't want you to fix my problem, i just want a hug.
anyway..hi! I just found your blog yesterday and i think you're cool (i know that sounds really dorky). i just started knitting a few months ago and am also struggling with the fact that it's too hot to make hats and scarves (i live in the south) but that's all i know how to make. the answer..socks!
sorry for the long ramble..this is why i usually lurk and never comment.
Posted by: Kelly at April 1, 2005 09:15 AM
Oooohhhh...Kelly has an idea. Fuzzy Pink Angora socks. Men Suck. It is as simple as that.
Posted by: Crystal at April 1, 2005 09:48 AM
That sucks. I wore a low cut shirt to the emission station, just in case. I can't believe I just admitted that. He was hot. And all of 20 years old.
Great scarf!
Posted by: Erica at April 1, 2005 10:19 AM
what about the few men that do,do something for you but expect'you know' in return? they sucks too.btw love your blog and Jen need's to eat.
Posted by: cara at April 1, 2005 12:16 PM
This is going to freak you out - but the whole "I don't want you to fix my problem - I just want you to listen" scenario is mentioned in Men are from Mars - Women are from Venus. Only thing is men are too dumb to get it! I explained the whole principle to my ex and he just said he didn't want to hear about it unless he could help. jerk!
Posted by: jacqueline at April 1, 2005 05:37 PM
jen "not a knitter" here. i love my scarf!! i notice what this picture does not show is how i later tried to contribute to the knittingness by helping shannon untangle her crazy stripey yarn, but laurie USURPED my role because i was NOT DOING IT RIGHT (you crazy knitters, you). needless to say, i can't wait to learn to how to knit so i can do more than getting caught on film vegging on the couch with potato chips and beer.
Posted by: jennifer at April 1, 2005 07:23 PM
Jen? I only said you needed to eat because I am petty and jealous.you have a lovely figure.
Posted by: cara at April 2, 2005 08:24 AM
love the blog, scarf, friends, potato chips and alcohol. who needs a mans?
and actually, wacky california car laws made me so crazy i gave up and sold mine. now i knit on the bus, too.
*love* the blog.
Posted by: kristy at April 2, 2005 12:31 PM
1) All right, NO I DID NOT usurp your yarn-untangling powers. I was just, you know, more efficient. Which was being helpful. Like a good friend should be.
2) Ya'll , she is so skinny! But she's nice (most of the time) (see yarn-usurping, above) so we love her even though she's tee tiny skinny.
3) Erica, how much do I respect you and your low-cut shirt, because, really, you gotta do what you got to do to pass the emissions test. Clearly, my shirt was not cleavage-revealing enough. Now, we have learned. Next time .... BIKINI TOP.
Posted by: laurie at April 2, 2005 03:23 PM
A gay friend of mine told me his mother gave him a copy of Why Men Love Bitches in an attempt to be helpful...
Posted by: Amy at April 6, 2005 11:20 AM
see i told you i'd be commenting. your ex ... fucker ... wasn't raised right. when i had my car accident and needed a ride home, i called my husband and he said, "can you catch the train home?" then i heard arguing. he was with his father who said, "you are not letting her take the train home. you will drive and pick her up!"
my father in law rocks.
Posted by: maryse at April 8, 2005 12:33 PM
I can beat that--when I was hospitalized last summer, and the doctor decided to let me come home a day early, I called my husband all excited. His response? "Can't you stick around there until 3 or so? You're making me late for work!" Guess who's separated now?
Posted by: diane at April 25, 2005 07:44 PM
