Carma

Hmm. How to write this blog? Start out nice and then descend into a scathing rage? Wait... I always do that. I think I'll just go where this glass of Muscat and these Baked Tostitos take me.
After my run I decided that it would be safe to drive to East Van for book club, because book club is at 7pm and as long as no one is jumping off the IMB at that time, it should be safe for driving. And safe it was! I was there so fast. Me, so happy tooling around in my little Civic, listening to Radiohead, thinking important, pure thoughts about enlightened things. I got a little lost, but arrived relatively unscathed at Squishy and Skyhammer's.
It was a full house for book club tonight (except Squishy cut out a little early: hope she is feeling better and her 'new' hummus kicked ass) and we had some great conversation (resplendent with many tangents) about "A Brave New World".
Wanting to get home at a reasonable time, I bid everyone a fond farewell and then exited into the balmy summer night. I noticed quite quickly that my car was not where it ought to be, but being somewhat directionally challenged I expanded the periphery of my search before returning to Squishy and Skyhammer's to mutter "Fuck me" under my breath and "I think my car has either been towed or stolen" to the general populace. Towed it was. The lesson learned, as per Po and Coco, is that if you have a bubble (a bubble being something that gives you pause and makes you question if what you're doing is a good idea) you ought not do that particular thing. I have had a lot of bubbles in my life. I'm pretty good at dealing with and appreciating the nuances of the bubble. But the giant bubble that hovered over my head as I parked my car, jumped out to determine if I was too close to the end of the block or not was emblazoned, "I ought not park here, though I'm pretty sure I'm fine and besides, how often do they enforce parking in East Van anyways". Well, allow me to impart to you that they apparently enforce parking quite often and I was (disputably) too close to the end of the block.
Skyhammer was calm as he looked up the line for idiots that have had their car impounded (I believe the website said something trite like "if you are one of the unfortunates that has had their car towed", which made me seethe all the more because it just seemed so fucking glib). I confirmed that my car had indeed been removed against its will and was languishing in some pen downtown with electrodes strapped to its genitals. "I'll be down there shortly. Praise Allah" I told Buster's Towing.
I walked outside and with my most endearing and pleading voice, with eyes brimming with tears I humbly asked Coco if she could give me a lift to the impound lot to which she replied, "That's why we're still out here, honey". Hmm. People being friendly and giving and appearing to not be put out. They call these people something. Friends? Yes, that may be it. Friends.
So, we jumped into Coco's car and she dropped C off downtown and, as she exited, she encouraged me by saying "Good luck with the Epsilons at Buster's". This comment actually works on two levels, so I am really excited to be able to break it down for you because it is rare that anything in my life works on two levels as I am mostly a boring, one-dimensional stick figure. See, her comment related back to the names for the various classes of society in "A Brave New World" (Epsilon being a derogatory label alluding to a diminished IQ and a life of drudgery, of course). The second level on which this works relates to the concept of "literary snobbery" that Po brought up during our discourse. I have just engaged in a form of literary snobbery by including (albeit through C's adept wit) the term "Epsilon" which will, no doubt, leave those readers of my blog that were in attendance tonight rolling on the floor, grasping their sides in unbridled mirth at this inside joke and literary reference, while the other reader(s) of this blog will be like, "Wow, that's totally fucking stupid and it sounds like she clearly parked to close to the end of the block and got what she deserved".
A year or two ago, I would be on some rambling diatribe (yes, this is rambling, but it's not a diatribe) and contemplating rescuing all the caged cars from the vicious confines of Buster's impound lot. Today, however, I will say that for $62 I got to spend some impromptu time with some very witty and friendly friends that gave me a hand when I needed one. For $62 I got an Epsilon joke, discovered that Coco has M&Ms on the floor of her car, learned about the bubble, and had my car valeted in prime parking near the ocean at Granville and Pacific. It wasn't raining, my glasses weren't stolen and I had my license on me (which I don't always have, and which is a necessity in order to free your vehicle from jail).
The bigger tragedy tonight was that Squishy had to cut out early because she wasn't feeling well, and that Skyhammer won't be able to drink wine when he's France.
So. Thank you to Coco for giving me a lift. To Po and C for making me laugh. To Squishy and Skyhammer for the hospitality. And to Buster's for the material for this blog.
My Civic has informed me that Buster's did not adhere to the Geneva Convention during it's internment there, and that they openly defaced its owners manual.
You sadistic bastards. I'm glad I rescued it before the waterboarding started.
Fuckers.