My Story of the Mercedes...

I've always wanted a Mercedes and about 2.5 yrs ago, I got mine. Baby blue, sleek, vintage, used, worn, warm, strong & bold. A 1973 280se following a rather nasty car accident where an idiot college student, paired with an inconsiderate driver-- me in the middle-- led my Jetta to the junk yard. Luckily I walked away unharmed, but if you've read this far you know my little black Jetta, meant for ex-girlfriends, and once my mom, didn't make it out in quite the same condition.

Flash forward 6 months when my beautiful little blue beast is giving me car trouble.....

*At this point blue bell has seen the shop across the street from my work too many times to count. I swear the mechanic is a huge crook. My bank account is counting, however, backwards while I dig myself out of vintage hole after vintage hole.*

I have a filming for a work client in Newport Beach, with Inside Edition no less. As I gear up to race down PCH the day before the 4th of July I realize it's too close of a call to drive my buggy. If something goes wrong and I'm not able to show up -- both my bosses are out of town -- I'm screwed. Sooooo, I opt for the company car.... A 2012 350E coupe.

As I drive down PCH I'm feeling rather posh. A 26 year old PR executive in a beautiful car, driving along the ocean on a coast I love and know.

*Only if you're familiar with PCH in Southern California will you know what the fuck I'm referring to next, but either way I'm going to try to paint a vivid picture.* 

As I cross main street and sift through the shuffle that is 2 lanes becoming 3, then 2, then 3 again after Beach blvd. I've been driving on the faster side to get past cars but once the ride opens again and I look at my clock I realize I can relax and cruise the rest of the way.  Now I'm at the back of the pack and just miss the Magnolia light.

Stopped at a red I'm in the middle lane- 2 to my left, one only turning, 1 to my right. I'm looking in my rear view mirror and I see the next pack coming towards. I look at the dash and SLAM!

My body convulses forward, my legs brace the impact. My foot on the brake, glass flying around me, my eyes closed. I open them to find my car & I across a 4 lane intersection, basically on the curb. Stunned, I try to get out of the car. Heart racing, mind blank.

A lifeguard comes running from the beach and yells for me to stay in the car. I can feel the blood dripping from my forehead and the pain radiating in my torso. I look to the back right and see gasoline flooding from the vehicle. At that point I came to, fuck you douche lifeguard.... I'm getting the fuck out of this possible bomb!

The rest is as imagined. Cops, paramedics, nothing severe getting filed even though a suburban hit me  going 60 mph and demolished the Mercedes. The clean up crew throws sand on the gas and the ambulance transports the driver & passenger of the other car to the hospital. **they left me on the side of the road to bawl and have a co-worker race from Long Beach to retrieve me. Wonderful group are the HBPD, in case you were wondering.

Fast forward to a year ago....

The company car had been replaced but my ol' vintage baby had been on the fritz again. After pouring nearly 3k into it I went to a friends mechanic who tuned her up for $150 and she still works to this day- in fact, the 8k (total money spent on buying her and fixing her) vintage blue bell is still sitting in my moms driveway.

*Later last year I bought a new Audi for a more reliable ride.*

Once more, fast forward to last weekend.....

I arrived at my hair dresser's, who quickly exclaimed that he's dying to buy blue bell. As much as I love her, he's welcome to her. As he was coloring me I got an impromptu call from my boss asking if I took the company car. At this point the notion seems ridiculous. I have 10 cars in my arsenal- boyfriend, mom, grandparents 3, my moms BF 3 & my car + blue bell. The last thing I need to borrow is another car.

*We had a new assistant start at the business a month ago on the 18th.  A sweet 22 yr old boy from Wisconsin always carrying a Louie Vuitton bag and decked out in True Religion jeans. Once I had to tell him he couldn't use the car for errands, and once our tenants downstairs said he was photographing the company Mercedes.*

I quickly ask if he might have it and then text him. No reply. Police report filed, no word- from either assistant or police. Monday rolls around and our assistant doesn't show, no call, no text. Tuesday & Wednesday fly by but at this point we know what happened.

This is my experience with Mercedes. Maybe I'm cursed because I wanted one so badly for so long and then turned my back on blue bell. Or maybe you can never know someone. Or maybe everything happens for a reason. Or maybe blue bell is perfectly happy in my driveway with a potential new owner on the way and the suburban driver, crook mechanic & new assistant are all just mega assholes!

I will never know. But I do know one thing. I will never, ever, ever buy or drive another Mercedes. 

**THOUGHT: I should probably stop applying for KTLA's Mercedes giveaway**

Books & Beanies....

The Art Of Accepting Winter

I've opted for beanies lately, and I'd never felt better about any fashion or lifestyle choice.  If that seems funny to you, I'm seriously not joking.  It's amazing how much better I feel keeping in the heat.... and possibly the thoughts in my head. 

That's really not the purpose of this post.  This post is about family.  Not the family you make but the family you are born with, blessed with.  The family you can't change.... well, that's not true.  You can change anything you bloody want, at least mentally, but I'm talking DNA -- The crazy lot you are born into.  

**For this post I may go in and out of British.  I'm not suited to apologize for being partially, in a blog post, British... but know it's temporary and only reflective of where my head is here and now.

And so on with it....
I recently finished an amazing book.  One that resonated with me but didn't literally mean anything to me.  It's called A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby and it was brilliant.  It focused around around 4 people who met on the top of a building the evening they had all committed themselves to suicide.... but the story comes with what happens next.

I was amazed at how I was sucked in and wasn't able to put it down. I'm always like this with books but it was the first time I'd read in a while and it felt like I had gone home.

Once I finished that book I moved on to the next.  **I should mention that I had a little book-to-movie shopping spree on Amazon, and all these books will be films this year.  That's why I'm reading them.  As much as a I can be a bookworm, since I wasn't born in another decade as I had hoped, I am still slave to modern technologies.

The second book, which I've only indulged in 41 pages thus far, was a lot less enlightening and much more heavy.  I absorb much of reality like a sponge, but if it even mildly hurts I instantly turn to glass, it wipes away and I move on.  What I didn't discover until tonight was that the sponge part doesn't ever really go away.  I thought it had!  I never had ill feelings about the past for the most part.... and tonight while reading the first three chapters of This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper I had the most sickening memories of witnessing my significant other in bed with someone else.  This was years before Sean, but I remembered it vividly.  With every emotional slice to the character, which is incredibly descriptive and graphic in this book, I begin to feel like I was feeling it in person all over again --  the vomit arose in my throat while the tears swelled in my eyes. 

It was still agonizing, even as I repeatedly told myself IT wasn't me.  THIS wasn't my situation!....

But, that's the thing with books, movies.  I remember seeing the Titanic and even though there was NO correlation there, I cried for 3 nights thinking of had it been me (I was like 12.  No judgement!) 

What can I say.  I'm emotional.... but also emotionless.... either way, it never seems appropriate.  **But that's completely different topic.  WHAT this post is about is something, that as much as they were different, the books had in common.

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I hardly ever blame my family for anything.  I don't scoff at those who do.  Maybe I rreally am as fucked up as I see myself, but I don't see the blame for any of my troubles in the direction of any of them.  And I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

Both books I read some of the characters were crass and negative towards there upbringing.  Evaluating, breaking down the way their parents acted, their personalities.  Critiquing their qualities and flaws and then relating to them and saying "well, that's why I am who I am."  

Maybe I'm not old enough to feel that way.   Maybe I just don't hate my family -- yet.  Maybe I haven't seen the similarities in our flaws -- yet.  Maybe I don't want to.... but again, that's not really the point is it. (rhetorical -- I want to answer it for you, since this is about me after all.)

I attribute it to the fact that why would I blame the people I care about most for my problems?  I've had just as much chance to be my own person as Adam & Eve were.  I've made my own choices.... but it's really not about that either.  [excuse me.  I'm working this out in my head as I go]

When it comes to MY life it's never going to be anyone's fault about where I end up or who I end up being.  I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm happy, in fact obliged to take responsibility for my actions, demeanor, character, etc.  

I would like to stay decades away from blame and comparing myself to someone else, especially those I love most.... my family. 

I guess, long story (not so short), I own up to my downfalls.  I'm hardly an amazing person.  Sometimes I'm hardly a person.  I have incredible flaws, but THEIR MINE!  And I don't want to share them with anyone.  Maybe that's a huge problem within itself, but I don't care.  I'm happy being selfish with my flaws, my downfalls, my problems.  With them, I'm one- Me.

If you got nothing from this, and it's very likely you have (or haven't -- not sure what's correct grammatically -- another flaw), I hope you take possession of your mistakes, your problems and your character.  I don't want you to be a character in a book blaming your elders for your misgivings. We are lucky to BE OUR OWN.  Don't give an ounce of that to anyone else, ever... well unless it's positive, then THANK AWAY!

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