Instant Messenger

A random sampling of an instant messanger conversation with a friend who shall remain nameless. My life is so exciting.


ME: i just had to say "diet soda" b/c we can't use coke here and no one gets the universal language of "coke"

FRIEND: haha! damn yankees - they so don't know how to talk. ex: "hey Katy, i'm heading over to the coke machine...want a coke?" Katy: "yes please." me: "what kind?" Katy: "Fresca if they have it." oh, the wonder of the southern talk...

ME: it's so great. it's like an inside secret. Fresca...the drink of the 90's along with Shasta and Tab

ME: I mean 80's

FRIEND: i had a fresca yesterday & thought of you.

ME: ahhhhh. I think everyone thinks of me when they drink fresca. maybe I should be their spokesperson.

FRIEND: i think of my dad, too. the original fresca drinker.

FRIEND: 1 hour, 15 min.

ME: you're right. i think he taught me everything.

ME: how dare you dartegnian or whatever

ME: 6 hours!

FRIEND: Dartanian!

ME: I like my spelling better.

FRIEND: woohoo...hey, dont' you get off at 445?

ME: yes. so 5:55 left

FRIEND: i see.

ME: you better
ME: ah, makes me smile

FRIEND: >:o>:o>:o>:o

ME: >:o

FRIEND: i like em small. they are scarier that way to me for some reason.

FRIEND: i think it's the beady eyes.

ME: >:o

FRIEND: what's up w/ this guy?

ME: open mouth, insert foot

ME: that's what I assume it is

FRIEND: really? i wondered if it were a sick person w/ a thermometer in their mouth?

FRIEND: this is a blog conversation waiting to happen.

ME: it's an episode of seinfeld

ME: i like it. i may have to include it

FRIEND: yep

Resident Alien

Apologies to all who have checked this site religiously only to find that I have neglected sharing my thoughts and adventures. Thank you for expressing your concern. But yes, I am still alive and well.
It's official. There's no turning back. I have finally become a resident of the State of Illinois. The Land of Lincoln and the birth place of Ronald Reagan (which I have heard continuously this week. I really am sad that he passed away because he was a wonderful president and a man of integrity and conviction. But, he suffered greatly as well as his family. Finally he is at peace).
My journey to this residency wasn't without it's mishaps and use of maps and algarithmic equations. Why is it so hard to figure out how to get a new license? I needed everything short of a DNA test to even enter the licensing room.
Walking downtown to the Thompson Center (can't believe I found it) was much like walking down the streets of Paris or Rome (except cleaner). I seriously felt like I was in another world. But I liked it and felt like I was a world wide traveler once again. I discovered that I didn't have to wait hours upon hours in line until my name was called. But what I did discover was that I had to take a written test. A WRITTEN TEST?!!!!!!! I haven't even studied this material in over 12 years. Eenie meanie miney mo definitely came into play. TA DA! She passed! And not even barely.
From there I was ushered into a room where they took my photo, but only after they peeled the beautiful Texas license out of my hands, punched a whole in it and sent it on to what I can only imagine is a torturous chamber of fire! Weeping!
"Ma'am, can you tell me your eye color?"
"Brown"
"Height?"
"5'4"
"Weight?"
"Um. WEIGHT?! WHAT THE HECK? WHY DO YOU NEED TO KNOW MY WEIGHT? THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO NEED TO HAVE MY WEIGHT PARADING AROUND TOWN! WHY WOULD A BOUNCER AT A BAR NEED TO KNOW HOW MUCH I WEIGH? Calm down...breath. WILL THEY KICK ME OUT IF I WEIGH OVER 120?"

I couldn't lie. I couldn't do it. I should have said I weigh near 200 pounds. That way people will say, "you don't weigh that much" and it will be a compliment instead of thinking "she totally lied" or "that looks about right."
My picture turned out pasty and I look like a 50's housewife. Hey, it could be worse.
As I went to spend another portion of my inheritance on new license plates I saw something that has been burned in my brain. As I walked up to the counter....I can hardly say it...I saw...a man...I'll just say it!...cutting off a wart on his hand with scissors!!!!!! After 10 seconds of smelling salts, I finally came to.
So no more tickets! I'm official and I finally have my car back! Freedom of the road. I sure missed it!