Aimmix

Someone should seriously be pissed at me right now...

 

I'm chagrined for being away from this blog for so long. I really have no good excuse. I get wrapped up in one thing or another and because my mother is a passionate,free-loving, hippie and my dad is a hot blooded real-life hero, naturally their daughter is an overzealous, fiery, easily distracted hobbie-jumper.

It was recently brought to my attention that I've been neglecting all of my hobbies and my obsessive compulsion to decorate for the holidays, hasn't even hit me yet. But i'm here now. Be warned.

 

 

Read this. It's short. It's profound. Then fucking be nice today!

-Aimee

 

The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
by Kent Nerburn

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers."

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Today Kevlar7r and I celebrate our first, seven year anniversary. If I sit and be quiet for a minute I can almost smell the motorcylce oil that tickled my nose the first night I stayed over at his college apartment. His apartment was your typical college, motor-head's apartment. No garage so where do you work on things? Oh right! The kitchen table of course. Rather than inspiring you to bake a pie, the counter tops near the sink enduced a desire to adjust the air pressure in your bike's fork tubes. It was messy. It smelled like a garage and it was my favorite place.

So, in memory of our first weekend together, I have decided to jot down a few blips, visions and reminders that will forever bind the 25th day of August to my favorite indoor garage:

 

Smoking inside-so dirty and so right

Mattress slide

Motorcycle tipping-Bitch!

Kevin's Famous Pasta Salad-Write me for the recipe or don't.

Jenna Jameson

"This is my V.I.P. parking spot."-and the tow yard that your truck was consequently relocated to.

My tie-dyed shirt crumpled up on the floor.

Reese's Peanut Butter Ice Cream-The first thing you ever bought me!

$187.00-my "bride-price"

 

Kevin,

Thank you a million times over for loving me and being crazy just llike me!

 

 

 

 

 

[11:53] sankecharmerjason: sorry cleaning out the snake cage

[11:53] sankecharmerjason: brb

[11:56] aimmix: DON'T GET BIT!

[12:13] aimmix: *It's been awhile. I wonder if he got bit?

[12:14] aimmix: *What if he is on the floor, crawling to get to the keyboard to type his S.O.S. message?*

[12:14] aimmix: *Maybe I should go ahead and get 9-1-1 on the phone?*

[12:14] aimmix: *BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE HE LIVES!*

[12:15] aimmix: *I wonder if his wife will IM me and tell me where the funeral service will be held?*

[12:15] aimmix: *I should stop by Macy's and buy a new black dress. Something sexy. He would have wanted it that way.

  Sequel Update!

It seems to be our most popular question, when is our sequel coming?  Well we are about to share some of the details of the sequel and hopefully clear things up.

The Sequel will be entitled “All Saints Day”.  The start date is August 25, 2008 that will be our first day of shooting.  We are currently in the casting process for all new roles that will be in the sequel.  Both Brothers are coming back too! I know that has been on some peoples’ minds.   Once filming begins, we will have streaming video from the set weekly.  Writer/Director Troy Duffy is due to start pre-production at the end of June.

“IF” there is going to be an “open casting call” we will let you know on our Websites, MySpace, Newsletter, etc.  If you’re not already signed up for our newsletter, the sign up form is on this website.

There is not an official release date set, but we are hoping for spring 2009.  When that becomes available we will update everyone.

All of us at Boondock would to thank the fans for their loyal support over theses years and keeping the faith!  If it wasn’t for you, “the fans”, this would not have been possible!

Yesterday my home was violated while another human being proceded to take from me my most favorite things. I don't have many things that I would consider grabbing if my house were a flaming inferno and now that list can't even be called a list.

List–noun

1.	a series of names or other items written or printed together in a meaningful grouping or sequence so as to constitute a record     image.jpg

In my feeble attempt to transfer photos (in what I am sure was the least convenient way) from one computer to another, I found some little gems. Pictured above, is Kevin, Haylee, my niece Mishaila, Preston and I, in the French Quarter quadrant of Disney Land. The six adults decided to take a break from the cattle herding and look for some liquor. I had heard a vicious rumor that the French Quarter had a couple of restaurants that served this holy sacrament. The children screaming, the parents pacifying and searching for that thirst quencher and life preserver that would never be found.

I am sure there is alcohol of some sort but we had a family of 10 in our group and dragging them all around in our search was causing problems so we sucked it up, shot up some heroine and decided to wait until dinner for the nectar of salvation. That and my family knew if they sent Kevin and I on the hunt, we would never have come back.

P.S.

Viewers, I have been asked to explain that my husband's hat had been pushed up by one of the children thus providing him with a lovely cone-head illusion. ILLUSION PEOPLE! 

 

 

 

About a year ago, Kevin shared this link with me. It's a pdf chalk full of the most hilarious stories about a guy and his street sweeper.

http://www.cdupload.com/files/12562_1nmgi/bruiser.pdf

My description and praise will never do Bruiser justice, so I won't even bother. Just read it.

 

You can thank me later.