Friday, May 27, 2005

Last night Ryan and I ventured out to explore Richmond led by the intrepid Bill, and we ended up at a rockin' wee bar called the Penny Lane Pub. Owned by a former Liverpudlian, it is all things grotty and dark, with a huge TV in one corner for watching Man United and other soccer teams, as well as British VHS tapes. A couple pints and some jalapeno poppers turned into a dozen pints (and the arrival of Chris and Wendi) and us basically being the last 5 people in the bar. For me, who is on vacation? This matters not. For Bill and Ryan? Notsomuch. Drag ass, thy name is too much Belhaven. Thanks again for a great suggestion and a very fun (generous!) night PYIBill.

Then this morning as I was dozing, I heard what I now know was a dump truck doing its rounds at the townhouse complex across the street. But in my sleepy haze the noise equated with a tow truck, leading me to have a dream where-in I came out of the house to find someone towing my car. BD is parked on a "driveway" on a street that doesn't require permits anyway, so I start fighting the tow, asking why they're taking the car. It's a trio of thieves, actually--2 skeevy men and a mute but watchful woman--and the one man-skeever just insists that they're taking the car with no reason as to why. I cotton on to the fact that it's a straight-up theft and I begin YELLING at them (while simulataneously impeding their ability to finish rigging up BD to the tow truck). I then call the police and am reporting it to the dispatcher as I'm *hanging out the driver's side window of the truck* (they've finished the hooking up and are trying to drive away) and I'm yelling at them and the dispatcher "Don't steal my car!! If they knew that I only make $XX,000 a year and can't afford to get another car they wouldn't take it....DON'T. STEAL. MY. CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!"

So, yeah. Somewhere last night between the Courage ale and the shandy I LOST MY FUCKING MIND. These things happen.


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