SMART decision

I’m seriously considering purchasing a Smart Car to run around with. It’s like a little toy and for $13,000 brand new, I’ve got nothing to lose! If you see a big dude driving down the street in a clown-looking car, blasting rap music–your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you…that’s Geremy!


Crater, Meet Car! Car…Crater!

Breaking News: Outer space isn’t the only place with craters…New Jersey has ’em too!

On a peaceful friday night I was only my way home from a rousing night of activities. The weather was a rainy 52 degrees and I was in an unnecessary rush to get home. Instead of driving very carefully to make sure that I do not damage anything, I decided forsake all discretion and drive semi-aggressively. My aggressive driving led me directly to one of the aforementioned Pluto-sized craters, residing in Elmwood Park, NJ.

The crater was seeking revenge on cars and my poor automobile was its first victim. I drove into the hole at around 40 mph and BLAM, the hole bent my 1 month old 20 inch rim…and it hurt!

Now I have an oval rim and a dilemma to face.


My Paradise


Parked in a park and reading in my backseat–my choice Saturday
afternoon activity.

My huge backseat happens to double as a sofa.


“Gimme Back my Money!”

This guy stood on the return line at Microcenter for 20 minutes and said “I’M NOT MOVING UNTIL I GET BACK MY MONEY.” He also didn’t allow the customer service lady to help anyone else. He ended up being literally dragged out of the store.

He might’ve also stolen something square from the store shelves and hid it in the seat of his pajama pants…I’m not sure.


Forget Ikea!

I’ve realized that putting Ikea furniture together is only fun when it’s one piece of furniture per calendar year. Earlier this week my sister bought about 8 or 9 pieces of furniture from Ikea and I foolishly decided to help her put together a dresser. After a solid hour of work, the dresser was still not completed and I admitted defeat against Ikea.

I’ve had a change of heart–when I move out, I will not buy all of my furniture from Ikea because I simply do not have that kind of time, energy, or willpower on my hands. Sometimes it’s worth it to pay extra for furniture that is ready-to-use upon delivery instead of wide, nondescript boxes with instructions to insert Tab-A into Slot-B.


Snow…MAN!

Yesterday there was 6 inches of snow on the ground with weather conditions worsening every minute, but I still insisted on driving to Kinkos because I’m a man.

I left work with all of my documents on hand to give to Mr. Kinko and I took extra care to make sure that nothing was ruined by the snow. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot with super-duper amounts of carefulness. To make sure that I was extra-safe, I activated the traction control and “snow mode” on Goldie (my car).

After five minutes of driving at 11mph, I figured that I’d kick things up a notch and drive at 15mph. Two minutes later…20mph because I’m a man.

Things were going well and the road was semi-isolated, so I decided to turn off snow-mode and drive at regular speed because I’m a man. Approximately three seconds after flipping the snow switch, the back of my car made a hard right turn and Goldie began to spin out of control. Instead of panicking, I calmly tried to regain control, but suddenly I heard a beeping sound from the dashboard, which was swiftly followed by the message “ABORT VEHICLE! ABORT VEHICLE NOW! GOLDIE GON’ DIE!” (or maybe it said “traction lost,” but it all meant the same thing to me).

The car was sliding sideways up a hill at around 5mph and heading for a lamppost at the side of the road and there was nothing that I could do about it. But just when I was ready to swan-dive out of the sunroof, the car came to a complete halt. I evaluated my situation and noticed that I was about an inch from the curb and about six inches from the post.

I learned the tough way that when they wrote “snow mode” they really mean it, and I shouldn’t ignore it even if I’m a man.


Nurse Evil Makes an Appearance

After putting off this appointment for about 2 months, I have finally decided to get my blood work done and I am very lucky that my vein is still intact…or is it?

I drove to the lab and sat in the waiting room for about 10 minutes, then I was finally called into the room. I sat in the room with a smile on my face (because I’m a happy person) as I waited for someone to come take my blood. All of a sudden, the lights dimmed, the room got cold, and thunder shook the earthas NURSE EVIL entered the room—-NURSE EVIL FROM MY LAST BLOOD ESCAPADE.

Nurse evil must’ve visited my site and read about herself because she gave an evil little “bwahahaha” under her breath as she reached into the drawer and got the longest, fattest, double barrel, needle outfitted with a 2 liter blood canister. I reached into my pocket to get my cameraphone to snap some last images of myself because I was positive that this nurse had every intent to suck out every last ounce of blood from my body, but I stupidly left my phone in the car.

The nurse jabbed the needle into my arm and pushed, and pushed, and pushed until I felt the tip of the needle touch my shoulder bone. All of a sudden, she pulled out the needle halfway, turned it 20 degrees clockwise and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. When I thought that the worst of the experience was over, Nurse Evil started to make 360 degree turns with the needle—poking in every direction. I looked to my arm and I saw my veins in knots inside of my arm.

When I asked the nurse what she was doing, her excuse was “I can’t find your vein.” Since I was too much in pain to speak anymore, I couldn’t tell her “LET GO OF THE NEEDLE! IT’LL HURT A LOT LESS IF I JUST CHOP OFF MY ARM,” which was actually what was on my mind.

A few minutes later, she finally found a vein that she liked and she juiced it for every ounce of blood in it. She put a cotton swab over the dime sized hole that she created in my arm, then she sent me on my way.

My second rendezvous with Nurse Evil came to an end.

Scoreboard:
Nurse Evil: 2
Geremy: 0
Geremy’s Veins: -2,000,000

P.S: Forgive me if I sound bitter—I’m still shaken up.