M5 Alive

[whisper] Vroom, vroom.

I usually pick up the Kindle when the hus turns on Top Gear. But every now and then, I get pulled in by a joke made funnier by a British accent, or an especially creative battle of American cars. Let's just say I've tuned in enough, and respect the hus enough - as well as the other men in my family - to appreciate a good car when I see one. Or get the chance to drive one.

[whisper] Vroom, vroom.

Nope, that's not a Mazda from its cute commercial, interrupting my self-deprecating blogging - that's my big brother's M5 beckoning me back to Washington state. Though he's had the BMW since grad school, the stars aligned only recently for me to slip behind the wheel and into the leathery smelling dome of the silver, 2001 model.

Courtesy of an MBWorld discussion forum

Besides a jittery couple stints in second gear (which my dad reassured me he's had as well), the five-speed (or stick shift - fact for dummies like me: these terms are interchangeable), treated me like a cowboy's well-trained horse, responding to my every movement. I left my brother's neighborhood, driving gingerly, getting the feel of the "poppy" clutch, gears that click in to place like fun-to-push buttons, and brakes definitely in better condition than my own car's. As I boarded (yep) the freeway, the onramp was short, reinforcing my #1 reason for why fast cars are safer. I accelerated, realizing how 70 feels like 90 in our used Toyotas, and how that same MPH feels like 40 with the longtime manufacturer of German engine bad-ass-ness.

I was on my way to meet up with someone but started pondering, what after?

I'll have a few hours before the next family/friends activity. I should just drive. I should just drive the way to Mount St. Helen's. One of my favorite places in one of my now fave cars. I never knew driving could be this much fun! Weee... I should find something else besides Your Story Hour to listen to? Hm, it is relaxing. But I need ... Okay, this'll do. U2. Man, I could get used to this. No more brake-chattering 4Runner, or stiff-sticked (that's what she said) Tacoma pick-up. Life would probably just unfold more easily for me. People would want to turn my blog into a book. Then a movie. Featuring ZooeyD and ASkars, and directed by Sophia Coppola. Then I could trick some house into publishing a mediocre book of mine. Then I could afford to buy the hus his own dream car to keep him entertained while I'm on a book tour. That only tours Paris.

Before I exit the freeway and my daydream, I accelerate one more time and feel the car hold me in my black, slippery seat, seatbelt tight, hands easily gripping the wheel and stick shift that will beckon me once I leave the land of pine trees and country roads and return to Pensacola. SIGH

It feels good to feel alive like that. If only more commercials for female consumers played on that. Women seem a careful kind of pathetic. Wanting both good car engines and good makeup. Romance, not sap. (Like I've said), just-not-cardboard tampons and sweet-smelling shampoo - not white pants in a mosh pit and vaseline-smeared tresses. Chick flicks and lit with plot. Inventions that will remove the fast food smell from your car, blow our your hair like the stylist does, and trim your own bangs. Cures for cystic acne, breast cancer, and why not, testicular cancer. We want, at least I want, the reality of good engines and good makeup alike.

Don't give me this:



Give me this:



Let these women write more of our entertainment. Let me. JUST KIDDING

Courtesy of The New York Times
{Great article - yep, that's Juno's Oscar-winning Diablo Cody and
New Girl writer and real life new girl Liz Meriwether}

In honor of my wish to be like the above ladies, I'm introducing a new Side of Honeydew feature called WordGirl for Grown-ups, even though the cartoon can be enjoyed by anyone over age 11, too. The concluding blurb will hopefully sometimes teach you something you didn't know regarding definitions or grammar. And thus help you not seem like an idiot. Because I often do until my co-freelancers or weirdly grammar-smart hus correct me. If you don't want to learn anything new today, that's okay - scroll to the end, and your treat for reading this post will be something cool via my friend's Tumblr.

Oh, and feel free to submit your own tips or tumbles, especially call out my mistakes. =)

And yes, it's Friday night, and I'm blogging. Because until I become rich and famous (so, never), I'll stay home and blog while my husband hovers over the earth on fun and exciting helicopter trips to everywhere but here.

[whisper] Vroom, vroom.

WordGirl for Grown-ups

How to speak, or write, correctly about your plural possession of something (read on; it'll make more sense)

Please commit this to memory and take the time in conversation to practice it, because it's messed up all the time on reality TV shows, and it makes me wanna throw the remote at my beautiful television. Tsk, tsk.

WRONG:

Cary and I's beamer. (AKA BMW)

RIGHT:

Cary's and my beamer.

Hint - You should be able to remove either subject, and the sentence will still make sense. Also, just like in another aspect of good grammar, the person who's not you should be referenced first. How polite, right?

Tumblr Treat

Quotes of the Day

“It’s never too early for pub mix… or to be at a pub.”

In response to me [Erin] asking if someone was ok, “Yes, it was just a strange dream-to-reality transition this morning.”

“Careful with that - it’s a man tool.”  (It was a new razor blade)

“When I saw your sweatshirt on the ground, I thought someone had poured water on you.”