Wednesday, January 31, 2007

A long lost blog

I am a bad driver. I spent a long vacation back in Omaha this holiday so it was inevitable that I would eventually have to drive. In Chicago, I’ve learned to love my driveless lifestyle. I would go as far to say that I would be okay never driving again.

So anyway, I get behind the wheel to venture to Blockbuster to feed my new Grey’s Anatomy addiction, and as it turns out, I’m now the asshole who 1) cuts in front of people because I only get more indecisive when uncomfortable 2) who wonders why everyone is flashing their lights at me only to find my lights were off the entire drive as I pull in the driveway and 3) (the cardinal rule that you never break) who drives slower than the speed limit! I’m so disappointed. The “like riding a bike” factor did not come into play.

I remember when I was first learning to drive. My dad took me out in the Plymouth Voyager (if you’re picturing a mini-van with fake wood panel siding you would be correct), minutes before the end of some Husker game that they were shamelessly losing and then miraculously won in the final seconds. It’s pretty regular for my dad to turn off the TV when he has given up on the team; he makes an “ahherg” noise and shuts it off as he walks out of the room. It’s not particularly because he’s a huge Husker fan, but I think it’s maybe because it’s not an efficient use of his time to watch a bad game.

So we’re driving around a parking lot and my thigh begins to cramp and I ask my dad if that’s normal. He looks at my foot and realizes I’m not resting my heel on the ground; I have my toes on the pedal and have been holding up my heel the whole time. Sometimes I think that until about two years ago, I wasn’t very smart because I recall stories like that and I ask myself, “Where’s the common sense Diana?”

Now, I exercise the utmost amount of common sense. Like at my friend Nick’s birthday party when I did a handstand in the bar, I’m like the smartest person I know.

To all my genius friends and family,

D.Riggs

Small Thing: When I pour a Guinness correctly and someone notices.

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