RIP Ziggy Stardust, 1995 ~ 2010

Friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Ziggy Stardust, the aging sparkley-eyed starlet on wheels we grew to love. Ish. (Though she never did come close to being the BMW wagon I always wanted even if Bryan says she rocked practically the exact same body. Semantics, plus the matter of an accent. Ziggy Stardust never had that sexy Euro-trash accent when she called my name across a crowded parking lot. *sigh*).

I suck at eulogies.

Don't die, mmmkay?

On Friday I went to work. Took the bus, had some meetings, wrote a little of this, ate a pb&j, wrote a little of that, took the bus back to my car--we've gone over this before, right? The minutiae? But this time I unlocked my car at the end of the day only to find the floorboards 2" deep in water. Which was very confusing, as you can imagine, not being able to see the brake pedal through the silt. I checked my windows, not sure why--my roof--it was still there. Suddenly a man rapped on my windshield with a microphone and asked if I wanted to go on air for KRON 4 News to talk about the freak 7ft tides flooding all the cars and how none of them would ever work again seeing as how sitting in salt water will kill an engine not to mention fry a computer. And so I did what any drama queen would do in such a situation at 5:30 on a Friday night with a microphone pushed into her face--I cried.

If you are my Facebook friend no doubt you have read my weekend emo updates lamenting the loss of transportation, the financial suckerpunch, the very moon itself, that bitch who pulled the tide up and over my car. But you guys--I lost my car because I went to work. Nay, because I was being fiscally responsible slash environmentally aware by leaving my car at the commuter parking lot to take public transportation TO WORK. There are simply not enough upper cased italics to get me through the absurd woe-is-I-ness of that sentence.

On Saturday Bryan took me back to the scene of the crime to have my car towed to its more than likely *FRP. It was 8am and already there were 4 tow trucks dealing with the fiberglass cadavers: a Porsche, an Audi, Mercedeseseses (how does one pluralize Mercedes?). In total, roughly a dozen cars were killed that day. It's funny how insurance companies find religion at times like this, the tide an uncoverable act of God when everybody knows there is no God to be found in a commuter parking lot.

We estimate her time of death at 11:08am. High tide, while somewhere in an office building in San Francisco I was probably doing something like looking up a word in the thesaurus. Had I known, I would've looked up fuck:

Synonyms: be intimate, breed, copulate, fool around, fornicate, go all the way, have sexual intercourse, lay, make out, mate, procreate, sleep together, leave your car to go to work and find upon your return that it was been flooded, fried, you're screwed, fucked.

*FRP: Final Resting Place. My southern grandparents bandied about this term in casual conversation which I always found to be the height of sophistication, that and Cheerwine; of course this probably explains some of my more macabre leanings.

**Anyone have any recommendations re: how to find a super cute family car with low mileage for roughly $25? CA$H!!