I was taking out the trash early this morning when my neighbor, who works for Autoweek and frequently brings home a test model for a day or three, left his driveway in a red Chevy Volt. The only sound it made was the whisper of the tires on the pavement (and the slight scrape of the front fairing, just a smidge too low to go out a driveway headfirst without touching). Price of gas today: $3.89.
I wonder where he plugged it in overnight. (I’ll take “the garage” for $200, Alex.)
Mercy, it was a rough night. Didn’t sleep much at all, and I don’t know why, as I am most definitely not one of the “sleepless elite,” the tiny slice of the population that legitimately needs little shuteye to make it through a day. So seeing as how my brain is failing, l think we need to make this a popcorn-y, snack food-y sort of entry today, and you can take it from there:
I am falling behind on my royal-watching. Monaco is getting a new princess? And she’s a South African blonde giantess with shoulders that make Michelle Obama look like Wally Cox? A former Olympic backstroker? And she’s marrying this bald 52-year-old dweeb who already has two out-of-wedlock children? For the sake of the world’s gossip consumers, I hope they have one of those very modern marriages, where it turns out she’s a lesbian, or, even more shocking, a great lady who can bring a bit of class to that palace full of commoners. How many kids has Stephanie produced by how many bodyguards? Caroline is on her third marriage, her second to the kind of guy who cheats in view of paparazzi? A giantess can only improve the line, although lord knows they’ve had enough new-blood infusions to last a while.
My inbox has filled in recent days with ham-handed phishing attempts. Please send your account number and log-in to this address as soon as possible, your account has been breached! Help I am stranded in a hotel in London, and I am sending this poorly spelled email to everyone in my inbox in hopes they will wire me sums of cash! I assume this is why.
Time to make some eggs and plan for the tatters of a day.