.
.
I wrote this yesterday, so any mention of "today" actually refers to yesterday:

.............

I woke with the roosters this morning.

Well, hang on. I don't know of any roosters who alert and crow at 2:00am. In fact, Stormy and I may have been the only creatures stirring at such an unGodly hour.

At 3:10am, we stood just inside the gates of my apartment complex waiting on our shuttle to the airport. I kept my eyes peeled for Pepe and Flower (the resident skunks). I figured that even in his doped-up state and from behind the netting of his red and black carrier, Stormy would still challenge the skunks to a duel.

Now, the cat was caged and on drugs (the feline equivalent of valium)... so, it wasn't rocket science to know who would win that battle. And I figured the passengers aboard flight 744 to Atlanta would not greatly appreciate one of its passengers stinking like skunk.

Five minutes after my shuttle was to arrive, the shuttle service called and reported mechanical difficulties. They informed me a taxi had been called for me and would be arriving in 5-15 minutes.

I had $25 in my pocket - the cost of shuttle fare and gratuity. I knew that a taxi would cost much, much more. But what choice did I have? I had not planned for airport parking. And I didn't dare call any friends at that hour to ask for a ride.

As it turned out, "much, much more" was an understatement. I became more and more nervous - bit my nails, twisted my hair, danced in my seat - as I watched the numbers rapidly grow higher on that stupid fare calculator. My trip to the airport was $65.00!!!!

At the security checkpoint, I asked how to handle Stormy. Considering I'd never taken a cat through an airport security checkpoint before, I asked what I thought was an honest question. "Should I walk him through the metal detector with me and send his carrier through the x-ray?"

The dumb ole security fellow said, "Well, you don't want to send him through x-ray and have him come out retarded, do you?"

Um...

By the looks of the guy (one eye straight forward and one eye permanently looking left), it seemed he'd checked out the x-ray one too many times himself. So, I trusted that he was speaking from experience and adhered to his advice.

On the plane, I got all excited because the inflight movie was announced to be "I-Robot." I had not seen it yet and I usually love a good futuristic sci-fi. Call me a nerd, go ahead. I don't care. I know it already.

But, then I quickly became un-excited when they announced an error and that the inflight movie would be "Anchorman" instead. I watched the preview they showed on the screen and opted against killing brain cells. So, I did a crossword puzzle instead.

With the exception of an hour of turbulence (severe enough that the captain instructed the flight attendants to take their seats), the flight was relatively uneventful - thank goodness.

And Stormy flew quite nicely... with the help of the little yellow pill from the Vet's office. He fought so hard to stay awake, but his inner eyelids were half closed across his open eyes. Weird looking, I tell you. I wondered if he'd slipped through the x-ray when I wasn't looking. Eventually, he gave up and slept in the seat next to me for most of the entire flight.

Mom picked me up and we drove 3 hours south to Leesburg / Albany. Stopped for a chicken sandwich at Wendy's and a bag of boiled peanuts at Mark's Melon Patch.

Got home and drove Dad's new Dodge Ram... with a Hemi.

Yeah.

Want one of those.

Zero to 90 with the touch of the gas pedal.

He he he.

Getting one of those... just as soon as I win the lottery.

Pretty late here now. Well, pretty late in Georgia - everyone's asleep. But my system is on LA time. I'm wide awake... me and Stormy.

Maybe I'll do a crossword.

.
.
Changed my very own flat tire. Yep. Me. I did it all by my lonseome.

...well, with the Dakota manual in one hand and my dad on the cell phone in the other hand...

but I did it!

...okay, so I had to get one of the apartment maintenance men to loosen the lug nuts for me...

but I did it!

I am now a master tire changer girl. (Just so long as someone with more muscle is available to loosen the nuts.)

And after I replaced the tire with my spare, I proceeded to So Cal Tires in Burbank where I was promptly lied to regarding the condition of my tire. I hate when they see a girl and see an idiot. They told me that the location of the hole in my tire was on the wall and made it non-repairable. They told me I would have to purchase a new tire. They told me Cooper Discoverer H/T was a rare thing in LA. They told me they would have to order the tire from elsewhere and that it would cost $119.

So, I got in my truck and headed for my trusty ole computer. I got onto Cooper's website and found dealers in LA (quite a few, I might add). I found a dealer in East LA that carried the tire in stock for $73 (including new valve stems, mounting, and balancing).

Happy with my find, I drove to Santana Tires where two female desk clerks greeted me and promised, "We'll take care of you."

Fifteen minutes later, I was told that the hole in my original tire was INDEED repairable and there was no need for a brand new tire. The "extensive damage" reported by the other shop was actually a small hole that did not fully penetrate the tire... and the hole was on the top of the tire rather than the wall (a location that would be supported by a patch).

"How much?" I asked.

"Ten dollars," the repair guy said.

Ten dollars. $10.00. Ten. Not 119... but 10.

As I left, one of the ladies from the counter caught me to give me a business card. She said, "I'm not just saying this because I work here, but this is an honest business."

Well, honestly, they now have my business.

I might have spent only $10 yesterday, but they just sold a tire as well because the next time I need one, I AM going there. And I've already told 3 other people who want Santana Tires phone number and address for their own tire purchases... so that means even more business for them just because they fixed my tire for a lousy $10.

I appreciate a company like that.

I had my first encounter with the crazies who call themselves entertainment photographers - aka Papparazi.

Reese Witherspoon and husband Ryan Phillippe brought their two children to a child's birthday party where I was valeting. They pulled up and rolled down the window to say, "That's a photographer behind us, can we just pull into the driveway?" I quickly cleared them a spot in the driveway of the house.

The photographer in the huge, white SUV behind them cut off traffic on the two-lane street, nearly hit another car (not to mention my valet girls), and rammed his car up against a curb. He jumped out of the SUV and ran around to begin taking pictures as Reese and daughter escaped their car, never turning around to face the street. Ryan unloaded the baby from the carseat in the back and did the same.

I apologized that it wasn't a faster maneuver, but Reese was too sweet. "No biggie," she said with a smile. And even though I had every intention of leaving their car parked in the driveway, Ryan handed me his keys just in case we needed to move it for some reason.

After the couple and their children entered the birthday party, the obnoxious photographer proceeded to repark his vehicle. Because we had valeted several cars by that point, all of the legal parking anywhere near the house was taken. So, the fellow decided to park illegally on a red curb just in front of the house. His intent was to sit and wait until Reese, Ryan and the kids came back out of the house to drive away.

We were terribly annoyed with the guy for 1) making safe views of the street difficult for our drivers since he was in the red, 2) nearly causing an accident and jeopardizing our safety when running across the street in his haste to snap a shot, and 3) just plain being rude!

So.............. we called parking enforcement on the guy!

He he he

On an entirely different subject, I just have to tell about my friend Diana... whom I have decided is the female Beastmaster. I swear she is.

Dogs respond to her glances. Cats think she is catnip. Birds fly into her window and hang out for a few days at a time. And the latest... I just have to share this.

She was sitting in her apartment watching tv when she suddenly sensed another being... and not the akita named Zacky that resides her.

Somehow, she knew there was a living creature beneath her salt shaker. So, cautiously, she lifted the salt shaker and discovered a roach laying on its back. Initially, her reaction was, "You gotta go, buddy!"

But then, she decided that she just couldn't kill him. She thought, "I don't know what his situation is."

His situation.

She said she didn't know if he had lost his family... or if he was all alone... if he had gotten stuck trying to find food...

It's okay to laugh here. It's with her, not at her. She knows this thought is borderline... well, she knows. But still, she just couldn't bring herself to kill the roach.

She tried using a piece of paper to help turn him onto his stomach so that he could get away. But the roach simply refused to help himself. Instead, he chose to lay on his back. Diana figured the roach knew it was his time and had decided he was ready to go... and that's why he didn't even try.

Since she had already decided she couldn't kill him, she decided to let God decide when it was time for the roach to die.

So, Diana left the roach on its back for three days. Finally, the roach died on his back and she could get rid her apartment of him.

Yeah.

But what gets me the most - she didn't know "what his situation was."

A roach.

And don't think I'm making fun of Diana, because I'm not. We laughed about this for sometime. She knows it's funny. But that's who she is. It's great. She's the Beastmaster!

By the by!!! If that stupid photographer did snap any pictures worth using, it's very likely that you'll see some of us Valet Girls in them... so watch the celeb-gossip magazines or the tabloids! I'm the one dressed as Pippi Longstockings with braided pig-tails standing out from my head. (The birthday party was also a costume party since it was Halloween weekend).