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breeden
ursulav

Ah Have Always Depended Upon Tha Kindness Of Furries...

So Carlota and I are cruising down through West Virginia, on our way home, and we come around an off-ramp and pass a car broken down by the side of the road. Standing next to it is a long-haired young man looking tired and flustered.

I debated stopping, got about twenty feet down the road, felt a pang of guilt, and Carlota said, rather dreamily, "He was pretty cute."

This was all the encouragement I needed to slam on the brakes and throw it in reverse. I pulled over, hopped out, and schlepped over to see if we could offer him a cel phone call or a lift to a garage or something.*

I got within a couple of yards...and saw the tail.

"Holy shit!" I said. "You're from Anthrocon! So are we!"

A huge grin cracked his face. "No way!"

Seriously, what are the odds that the people who stop to help a pair of broken-down furries are a pair of...well, not precisely furries per se, but at least adjuncts to the fandom?

Alas, their alternator was busted. Carlota can fix a lot of car related ailments with spit and duct tape, but not that one. The back of our car was too jammed to fit more than one, and there were two of 'em. We offered either one a ride in to North Carolina, but since one had Triple-A and the other one owned the car, they were both stuck for the duration. I spotted 'em twenty bucks for dinner--can't leave a member of my favorite subculture to starve to death in West Virginia--and we wished them luck and continued on our way.

"Poor kids," I said, cruising past Summersville.

"Yeah..."

"Hope they make it home okay."

"Yeah."

"Wish there was something we could have done."

Carlota grinned. "Yeah....but hey, we did both get hugged by a cute guy."

"A cute furry guy."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."


My life gets weirder the longer I live it.


*Note for my mother: No, I would never do this if I was alone in the car. Stop freaking out.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

So I finally talked myself into getting an iPod, on the principle that it was easier than shipping three boxes of CDs out to CA. (Okay, I didn't fight myself very hard...*sigh*) Since Carlota and I discovered some distinct musical incompatibilities while driving--she isn't a huge fan of Tom Waits, Nick Cave, or Tool, thereby negating the vast majority of the music I was traveling with at the time--I figure it's much safer to just rip the whole library so that I have safe choices like Zepplin and Nine Inch Nails on hand for our cross-country adventure.

This leads us to another point.

iTunes is dangerous.

Not because of the money involved. I am still writhing with guilt over the cost of the iPod itself, so I'm not likely to blow a fortune on music. I figure ten or twenty bucks to fill out my library with old favorites, and there I draw the line.

No, it's dangerous for the simple reason that you can buy music without having to admit to another human being that um, you, uh, kinda, um, maybe liked that one song, not really...look, it's not MINE, officer, I'm just holding it for a friend. (Not that anyone at a music store gives a rat's ass, but the shame remains.)

Which is why I now have Alice Cooper's "Poison" and am wallowing in gloriously cheeseball nostalgia. It is not worthy to sit in the same playlist as Lateralus, but it's goin' there anyway.