Guts, Windstars, and Soul

This and last week have been an interesting hodge podge of events, a cornucopia of excitement, if you will.

This week I started school again. I am my own master of smarticles.

This weekend, Mr Coffee was home from his usual Monday-Friday stint up in Middle Of Nowhere, WA. We went to the music store down in Portland and bought some new strings for my acoustic guitar. I like the Silk and Steel Martin strings. Not so hard on the fingers. I also bought a pair of drum sticks. You may think that is funny, seeing I neither play drums nor do I own a drum set. I do listen to my ipod and pound away on pillows or beat-on surfaces while practicing proper holding techniques. I want to take drum lessons after I feel confident on the guitar. The faux drumming also helps tone/prep my arms so it should be no surprise to you that my deltoids are freaking killing me. I can thank All-American Rejects and Weezer for that...

The kids went back to school after a week of spring break. Spring break always feels longer than it is when it's rainy. We stayed indoors avoiding the inclement weather, watched movies, played video games, and compared belly button lint. We also drove over to Dapoppins house for an afternoon of loud craziness. There are eight children between us. It was expected. She also had homemade cookies...and coffee. Double win.

After being without my van for three weeks, it was lovely to get out of the house. Last month, my van...long story short (and really, you should be thanking me for this brevity) was broken down, towed, and further rifled through.

The van sat at the mechanics for a week or two with the back trunk not locked. I had the foresight to remove my valuables including the registration (with my signature on it) prior to towage. Nothing of value was stolen but I still feel violated, you know? I've always felt if you break and enter a vehicle or steal one for that matter, that you should at least have the decency to total it and launch it off a cliff. Instead, the owner has to deal with the whey-faced codpiece who would rather blow their beer-tainted groceries on the back seat upholstery, trash the inside, and ditch the thing two counties away.

Thieves are so amateurish and inconsiderate these days. What happened to a good old-fashioned bonfire and vehicular cliff dive?

Sans fires or cliffs, my van was graced with the fallout of some sheep-biting moron who dumped the garbage bag out all over the carpet. Who does that? And then, just to irk me more, they stole most of the clothes and books that were going to Goodwill. I was giving them away, sure...but I didn't want them to have it all.

No one will take responsibility for the theft at the tow place, naaaaturally. I only know that when I handed over the keys to my locked car the tow company didn't keep the back hatch locked....when they went through it and took they wanted.

I hope the perps suffer a miserable existence. How about the fleas of 1000 camels lodging in their crotchal region? I'm not picky.

This weekend, the family also ventured out for free fun at the Home Depot Workshop. When finished, we trekked across the parking lot to the van with newly-made, wooden butterfly houses (x4) in hand and I noticed this car, more importantly, the name of the car: Kia Soul. The shape didn't escape me either, wondering what it was like to drive the kids around in a white box.

Do you know that people look and stare when you are bent over, hysterically laughing at apparently nothing in a parking lot?

I probably looked certifiable but I didn't care.  I couldn't stop laughing at the possibilities of how you could brag about this new Kia Soul. We headed out but Mr Coffee had to pull over to make sure I was okay. And to see if I needed a hospital. Or a new lung. Or at least a new pair of jeans.

Who decided this was a good name for a car? I've heard of odd car model names like a Mitsubishi Guts (don't crash your Guts!) but holy crap, this tops the list of funny. You could go to town with this, literally and metaphorically:

I have a black Soul.

My dog popped in my Soul.

My wife wrecked my Soul.

Everyone piled into my Soul.

I've got a dirty Soul.

My Soul was repo'd.

My grandparents went to Florida and all they brought me was this dumb Soul.

My Mother In Law sat in my Soul.

I rocked out in my Soul.

I lived in my Soul down by the river.

The fun is endless, really.

Now, if you also had a Mitsubishi Cantor Guts...

 
and got in an accident with a Dodge Demon....

...you could say that a Demon hit your Guts and they plowed into your Soul.

How about a Ford Escort, Chevrolet Luv, and a Dodge Swinger?

-Bee has soul but not a Soul.

Listening to: Joshua Radin's album: We Were Here.