mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The time I killed Lassie It's Hell Day once again, and I feel... I feel... Not that bad, really. And I think I know why. The previous two nights (the first night being when I hit the cat [which was a confirmed kill, thanks to one of my co-workers]), I didn't sleep at all. That's two whole days with absolutely no sleep. Natta. Ok, that's a lie. I took a couple of naps here and there. But basically, I only got a VERY small fraction of my usual sleep load. And I didn't eat anything. But enough about that. Crap... where was I? Ah, yes. So, last night, I was so tired that my legs ached and I was seeing two of everything. "Well, lookee there! I got me two willies!" So, I powered down the computer, turned off the TV. And I went to bed. At 7:30pm! I put Alison Krauss into the CD player, dozed off, and by the time "Ghost in This House" came on, I got a phone call. I was asleep (well, until the call came), naked, and all sorts of comfy, so I didn't get up. I let the answering machine get it. It was Gerbes Girl. Horay! But I didn't care last night. I was sleepin'! ... Ok... this diary's gotten to a point of me talking about sleep. Bored yet? When it rains, it pours. Or at least... When someone adds to my guestbook, everyone adds to my guestbook. It's been nearly a month since someone posted an entry in there. Today, I got two. The latest is from my good friend Steph. Know what's kewl about Steph? Ok... so it isn't too kewl. But it is something different, and I like different things. She can't smell! No sense of smell whatsoever. And do you realize that this is a guy's dream girl -- a girl who can't smell? Don't feel like bathing before a date? No need! Gotta "let off some steam", and you can guarantee a silent one? Even though *you* may choke, she won't care. Dirty feet? Who cares?!? I know she won't. I've known Steph for pretty much my entire Columbia stay. She's a great friend, and she's a most excellent road-tripper. Our very first road trip was to see the St. Louis Cardinals play. This was back in March of 1997. This was also back when the Roadkill score was in the single digits. So, we were on our way to St. Louis. There was four of us total in the car. And we had driven about an hour of the 2-hour journey. (First road trips are always short.) It was my first Missouri March, and it was friggin' cold for what I was used to: about 45 degrees, windy, and drizzly. But it wasn't wet enough to slow down all that much on an empty interstate. I was maybe going 65 at my peak. So, at the hour-long mark, I go over this little "hill" in the road. Not big at all. And on the other side of the hill is Lassie. Not as in "Lassie: just another dog." Nope. This could have been the actual dog. It was a beautiful, long-haired collie who looked like he found a patch of road that smelled like another dog's butt. He was sniffing away... ...until I slammed on brakes. He looked up and saw my car sliding towards his ass. We both started moving -- him running and me sliding on the slick, wet road -- towards the left. I screamed, "Shit!" and started sliding to the right in order to avoid the dog. I was still sliding at probably 60 mph or so. And all of this transpired over about 3 seconds. I slid -- ERRRRRRR -- (that's the sound of my car sliding, by the way) and everyone had braced themselves, eyes locked shut, and a silent scream in their mouths. Then.... BOOM! RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE BOOM!!! I looked at my rear-view mirror, and I saw the dog literally fly straight up -- at least 10 feet. I don't know for sure because it flew higher than my field of vision. I went down the road about a half-mile because I didn't wanna look at a dead dog. I pulled over, got out, and checked the front of my car for any major damage. I'm not shitting you one ne'er bit: the dog left an indention in the shape of its face! It was so amazing -- and I was still kicked up on adrenaline -- that I started laughing. Right there on a cold, wet interstate. So, I get back on the road, and get back up to normal speed -- slowly, cautiously. Then, about five minutes later, my good friend Kelly -- a guy -- said, "Ewwww! There's blood on your windshield!" Turns out that the dog ripped off my front liscense plate. On our way back from the game, we stopped to try and find the plate. No dog anywhere to be found. We looked all up and down the area where we hit the dog. No dead dog. No liscense plate. I know you'll inevitably ask: Are you sure the dog was dead?? Believe me. The way that dog bounced under my car. The indention his face left on my front bumper. The way he flew out the back, and the blood on the windshield. Doggie was dead. Well, now you know my first major roadkill story. My friends call it "The Lassie Story". Go tell your neighbors. It's more funny when I can do the impression of the dog rattling under the car. Because, man... I can do a MEAN dog/car bouncing impression. Well, that's about it for tonight. You got the two major goings-on in my life: sleep and animal killin'. Now you know the REAL JP.
10:02 p.m. - Monday, Nov. 12, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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