We're alone again.

I love my truck. Really, I do. And as such, I try really, really, REALLY hard to not be a stereotypical dumb girl about it. About any aspect of it. If doing self-oil changes wasn't more expensive than taking it to Jiffy Lube (or even better, Joel), I would totally change my own oil.

So, I get really, really, REALLY frustrated when there's something about my truck that I don't understand. Enter: car insurance!

I have NO idea what coverage I need. I would assume a lot of it, because I hit things pretty often. But I don't know how much is too much, what my deductable should be, how much I should pay a month, what will actually be covered, on and on. I guess no one really knows, as insurance is really a sort of gamble regardless. But, really, have you ever tried talking to an actual agent? Getting actual advise? Dude might as well be giving me the run down in Arabic. And insurance websites only exist so they can collect all your information and then harass you into getting a policy, when all you want to do is get a quote.

FAIL. So, I had about the most frustrating afternoon of my life yesterday, trying to figure out all this stuff. Frustration tears are the absolute worst, when all you want to do is really cry, get good and cried out, but you can't even manage that. My dad tries really hard to be helpful, but I think he and my mom are both worried they're going to give me the wrong advise. And when I'm that upset I really DGAF, I just want SOME advise. PLEASE. Just someone tell me what to do.

So, I finally decided to get off the phone and the internet and talk to an agent face to freaking face. I'm going to meet with my dad's agent in Tucumcari over the 4th and hopefully clear my head about it all.

Look at how much I've blogged this week! Everyday! And blogs of what I would believe to be some sort of substance. I like it! I wish that someone would pay me to blog, so I could be like the almighty dooce. But maybe I'm not built to handle the criticism. I think that what I write here is so impersonable because I live in fear of flammers.


I'm not sure why, but Ryan Adams and Mandy Moore dating makes me almost as happy as a british hat.


Almost.

Well, it's getting better.

Great things happen to me and Kyle when we hang out at condiment stations in restaurants.

We went to Dions last night and were ordering when I start listening into the guy standing next to me and his conversation with his server. This guy is a few inches shorter than Kyle, heavier build, Native, and has black hair down to his ass in a ponytail. Guy has just finished ordering and is picking up his pitcher of cola.

Guy: "Hey, can I get a little more ice in these cups? Yeah, you know, I don't want come up here and bug you again. Just make sure they're really full. Yeah."

Server takes the 4 cups and fills them up one by one, with ice coming out of the top.

Guy: "YOU'RE NATIVE, YOU SHOULD KNOW HOW TO DO THIS."

The server gives him the most confused and insulted smile and the guy just walks off, like this is clearly something he says on a daily basis. The server looked like she might have been Native, but I wasn't exactly blinded by her ethnicity. I guess what really gets me is what does being Native have to do with filling up a cup with ice?

Then, the Guy goes to get straws/lids, Kyle & I do the same. Guy is completely blocking the straws, so Kyle reaches around him and says, "Excuse me." Trust me. Nothing invasive or rude about it. This is Kyle we're talking about here.

Guy: "Excuse me? Excuse me? Excuse YOU."

And as Kyle's walking off,

Guy: "JERKFACE!"

That's right. I typed it. Kyle's a "jerkface" for reaching around straw blocker.

So, in the name of not dealing with drunkies, have some British hats.


From wiki: Royal Ascot is the world’s most famous race meeting, steeped in history dating back to 1711. It is a major event in the British social calendar, and press coverage of the attendees and what they are wearing often exceeds coverage of the actual racing. The Royal Enclosure has a strict dress code--male attendees must wear full morning dress including a top hat, whilst ladies must not show bare midriffs or shoulders and must wear hats.

It's happening right now. I intend on spending at least 60% of my day looking at pictures of hats.






British people are better at wearing hats than us.