Nicer doesn't necessarily mean safer, though! My little brother was shot three days before Christmas. He was driving home from church at about 8 pm, and these guys in the car next to him were mad dogging him and the girl riding with him. James took off from the light, and the next thing they know, there's gun fire. James was really smart and just slammed on the brakes and turned left (without looking, but sometimes you've gotta take risks), then ran some stop signs and got onto a different street going the other direction. He took Rachel home, and only then did he realize there was a bullet hole in the truck.
They were lucky, because these guys were shooting a 9mm, and could have seriously hurt them if they'd had better aim. My dad had an absolute cow, and the police did nothing.
The other exciting moment was seeing Neil Patrick Harris on Christmas Eve. For those of you who don't know (which is probably anyone), Doogie Houser is from Albuquerque. We sat down for breakfast in this cafe that we like, and I said to my mom and friends, "I am 95% sure Neil Patrick Harris is sitting right over there." The waiter said, "oh, yeah, Neil's family owns this restaurant. You should go ask for his autograph, he loves that stuff." My frumpy unshowered self didn't feel like meeting someone famous under the circumstances, but I did oogle him a little, and then told everyone that I'd had breakfast with Neil Patrick Harris.
Other than that, there's been friends, family, church, knitting, baby puppies, and my new iPod. Matt isn't here...he's in Loveland with his fam. My best friend Laura Lieberman announced her engagement, which I am exceedingly excited about, as I now have a July wedding to look forward to being in. I'm going to Pagosa Springs for New Years, and then back to the completely parallel universe that is Baltimore. Ah, well.
2 comments:
Why don't you just change your name to Profe McCants... copycat!!!
Regardless, I'll still read regularly. ;-)
When I was in college the first time around, I remember buying a sheet of those "bullet hole stickers" and then getting drunk one night and running out to my Jeep in the pouring rain to slap 'em on. The next morning, I was so startled to see the faux bullet holes in my car I was like, "WTF! My car got shot in Towson?" Then I remembered being drunk, and changed my tune to, "WTF! I couldn't put 'em in a somewhat straight line?"
Glad your brother's okay. Road rage sucks.
Post a Comment