Fairuza has emphyzema
Jan. 21st, 2003 09:17 amI was in the middle of a dream in which a man with perfect skin and softest lips kissed my eyelids and my cheeks. Just as he looked into me with fiery green eyes, we heard a screech, and he disappeared into nothing more than a grey vapor.
I gagged on his remnants, and woke to my alarm clock.
Get up, get ready, go go go!!!
Driving along, listening to Paul Harvey, I notice a strange smell in my car.
I get off rt.480 at Ridge Rd. - smoke starts rising from all sides of my car, and eventually, inside.
I gagged, and turned off the heater, hoping to stop the vents from allowing this to happen.
I contemplate this matter as I drive south toward school...do I take a risk of getting stuck at Tri-C, or do I try to make it home as my car continues to smoke?
I took a chance at getting home safely. The teachers can deal - I am good at making up work missed.
Left messages with teachers, on parents' phone - Dad knows a lot about cars, and is usually my hero in such events. I hope he is able to help me with this one. If not, hell, I don't even know what I am going to do. No fretting though, not yet. Three minute rule, you know.
I smell like my grandpa's old bike shop - smokey, like grease and soot and laboring hands on metal.
Nope, not wafting well at all.
unless you like grease monkeys.
I gagged on his remnants, and woke to my alarm clock.
Get up, get ready, go go go!!!
Driving along, listening to Paul Harvey, I notice a strange smell in my car.
I get off rt.480 at Ridge Rd. - smoke starts rising from all sides of my car, and eventually, inside.
I gagged, and turned off the heater, hoping to stop the vents from allowing this to happen.
I contemplate this matter as I drive south toward school...do I take a risk of getting stuck at Tri-C, or do I try to make it home as my car continues to smoke?
I took a chance at getting home safely. The teachers can deal - I am good at making up work missed.
Left messages with teachers, on parents' phone - Dad knows a lot about cars, and is usually my hero in such events. I hope he is able to help me with this one. If not, hell, I don't even know what I am going to do. No fretting though, not yet. Three minute rule, you know.
I smell like my grandpa's old bike shop - smokey, like grease and soot and laboring hands on metal.
Nope, not wafting well at all.
unless you like grease monkeys.