When You See It
I'll just cut to the chase: my favorite episode of Spongebob is when he takes the driving test with Ms. Puff as the instructor.
First of all, it's whimsical. What type of self-respecting motor vehicle can operate several feet below the surface of the ocean? I mean, doesn't the carburetor get all rusty and stuff?
Secondly, Spongebob is a terrible driver. In fact, all the fish-things in the show are terrible drivers. There's no clear road signs in Bikini Bottom, they sometimes runs the boat-not-car-mobile off the "road" across the sandy beach floor past The Chumbucket and make these ridiculously "WhOoPs I DiDn'T KnOw!!~" faces that only 9-year-old kids wouldn't be ashamed to laugh at without considering the ethical consequences of gleefully watching an aquatic boat mobile accident. Kids.
This post is about similar vehicle ordeals, just more like SusieQ NormalPants. It happened in the city, above ground (but also below sea level; if you're smart you'll get that one) and it was expected, but like the fish-things, I pretended to be taken aback. It was. The ticket.
I'm so used to not doing exciting things that, at this point, tickets - in any form - are an opportunity to be excited. Opera shows have tickets, high school raves have tickets, and the word lottery literally cannot stand alone without being followed by ticket. And in those instances, tickets are something to be proud of. They show off my eclectic interests, my debonair-don't-care attitude, some flair for playing my luck.
And though it was a PARKING TICKET this time (all times), I'm going to approach it with the same degree of celebrated novelty. It involved a parked car and it was not the right place to park it. But you know what, like an opera, it's dramatic. Like a rave, there's moments of feeling instantly connected to the PLUR community of other ticketed cars on that street. Like a lottery, it was a stroke of luck.
And it wasn't even me (plot twist??). It was someone else's car and I just observed it from afar and thought of all this in pure self-indulgent reflection. Now go feed your soul some cookies.
-theotherkid-
First of all, it's whimsical. What type of self-respecting motor vehicle can operate several feet below the surface of the ocean? I mean, doesn't the carburetor get all rusty and stuff?
Secondly, Spongebob is a terrible driver. In fact, all the fish-things in the show are terrible drivers. There's no clear road signs in Bikini Bottom, they sometimes runs the boat-not-car-mobile off the "road" across the sandy beach floor past The Chumbucket and make these ridiculously "WhOoPs I DiDn'T KnOw!!~" faces that only 9-year-old kids wouldn't be ashamed to laugh at without considering the ethical consequences of gleefully watching an aquatic boat mobile accident. Kids.
This post is about similar vehicle ordeals, just more like SusieQ NormalPants. It happened in the city, above ground (but also below sea level; if you're smart you'll get that one) and it was expected, but like the fish-things, I pretended to be taken aback. It was. The ticket.
I'm so used to not doing exciting things that, at this point, tickets - in any form - are an opportunity to be excited. Opera shows have tickets, high school raves have tickets, and the word lottery literally cannot stand alone without being followed by ticket. And in those instances, tickets are something to be proud of. They show off my eclectic interests, my debonair-don't-care attitude, some flair for playing my luck.
And though it was a PARKING TICKET this time (all times), I'm going to approach it with the same degree of celebrated novelty. It involved a parked car and it was not the right place to park it. But you know what, like an opera, it's dramatic. Like a rave, there's moments of feeling instantly connected to the PLUR community of other ticketed cars on that street. Like a lottery, it was a stroke of luck.
And it wasn't even me (plot twist??). It was someone else's car and I just observed it from afar and thought of all this in pure self-indulgent reflection. Now go feed your soul some cookies.
-theotherkid-
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