Dear tan Chrysler,
You know what the best part of my commute home was? It was the fact that even though I made it from downtown Cleveland to my little suburb in about 15 minutes today, it still took me almost another 15 minutes to go approximately 4 miles, thanks in great part to your insistance that the speed limit was 20, when it was in fact 45, then 35, and then 25 for about 100 feet. Gosh, you sure are a careful driver! I also appreciated the way you sat IN the intersection after the stoplight by Drug Mart turned green, rather than proceeding through the intersection, which you did with caution and after much start and stop speculation. It was very entertaining. In fact, when I said those entertaining four letter words really loudly, I was thinking of you the whole time. So thank you, for proving that once again, people in Lorain County obviously like to drive while under the influence of heavy narcotics. There's really no other explanation.

In other news, I'm going to Michigan this weekend to see Snakes on a Muthafucking Plane with Joe C. And to maybe attend a pigroast, which will be tricky since I don't technically like pork.

Also, I've been approached by four photographers in the past five days. Apparently people like the idea of taking pictures of my pasty freckled ass after a few beers for free, so I'm just going to throw out the open invitation right now: if you are a photographer, and you want to take pictures at the wedding, go right on ahead. Do what you want. Just send me the doubles, please. I figure I'm going to end up with a handful of sets of wedding photos, all by different artistic people, and that's actually pretty cheap for mecool. *shifty eyes*