Whee!

[fancycwabs]

For lunch today, I went down to Boiling Point looking to have a bowl of red bend and rice, but ended up having a shrimp poboy instead. It was pretty good (picture forthcoming on my flickr page). As I drove back to work, a guy driving next to me blew his horn and told me that my tire was low, which marks the understatement of the day. It was nearly flat, and blowing air through a worn hole the size of a blueberry. I filled it up as much as possible from the compressor at work, and drove back to Mississippi to get a new tire. Which is where I am now, waiting for my tire to arrive so the can mount and balance and so on. I love spending the whole afternoon in the firestone waiting room.

Comments

[mschilepepper.livejournal.com]

Oh, gag! You like the smell of rubber? Blech.

Melq, I thought of you last night as I was reading a book, Sex in the South: Unbuckling the Bible Belt, by Suzi Parker. It's an eye-opener, for sure. The part that made me think of you was about this incredibly wild strip club in Memphis called Platinum Plus.

[fancycwabs.livejournal.com]

Ah, the Mount Moriah Performing Arts Center. That was closed down a year or so ago by the boob squad. Most likely for what was described in the book.

[mschilepepper.livejournal.com]

Not surprising at all, if the tales of debauchery are to be believed. That's some wild stuff!

[meedja.livejournal.com]

You're an odd chicken, you. The smell of tyres makes me heave. Which was a bit of a problem, because my dad used to sell tyres for a living, and there would always be bits of tyre, tyre magazines, and the smell of mechanics in his car. Ick.