Archives for posts with tag: 1973 Pinto

Donna Louise here, observing a moment of silence early this morning. Today’s the first year anniversary of this blog which started with “Catholics Aren’t Bad. I Like Their Beads.”  Plato credits Socrates with the statement, “An unexamined life is not worth living” which is one of my favorite quotes. (Madonna liked it too.) I always took it to mean that I should look at my life on occasion to see where I’d been and maybe where I was headed.

The blog has given me an opportunity to reflect on my life, to examine in detail what I’ve done—and yet, I have no idea where I’ll be going. You know, it isn’t important. As Doris Day sang, “Que sera, sera.”

If I had a cake for the anniversary I’d invite you all over for some cake, ice cream and a frozen margarita (with or without alcohol). We could eat and drink and examine our lives. Alas, I have no cake or ice cream–to avoid putting on additional pounds. But I want to thank you all for hanging with me for a year.

Thank you, faithful readers. It’s because of you that I rise from my bed early in the new morning to prepare my posts. You all are the reason for leaving my comfy bed for the computer keyboard. That and the fact I can’t sleep over eight hours without being cranky.

Let the journey continue and please continue to hang out with me. A journey is only as interesting as your companions along the way.

This morning I will also let go of the Pinto. Venita will not sign the title over to me even though she won’t need the car where she’s going. Neither is she in a position to refund me the thousand dollars Mikey gave her. Technically I don’t own the car and, without proof of ownership, I can’t get my tags or insurance.

This afternoon Mikey and I plan to take the car over to Prospect Avenue around 37th Street and park it. I’ll leave the windows rolled down, the keys in the ignition, and the title sitting on the passenger seat with a note that says, “This car is hot, as in ‘sort of stolen’. Please take it if you deal in hot cars. Thanks.” Then we’ll drive away.

I know it will find a home with some unsavory characters, but at least it will be out of my driveway.

Farewell, old Pinto, you were a sweet ride.


Donna Louise here wishing people would say what they mean. On Saturday, Venita Spagmundi referred to her husband as dipping his pen in different inkwells. On Sunday when I googled the phrase, I discovered that it’s another euphemism for a man having sexual intercourse with many women (i.e. sticking his penis in different vaginas). Now, why not just say that to me? We were both adult women having an intimate conversation in a visitors’ room at the county jail.

I did discover another phrase which is cute, but also euphemistic, “Dipping his pen in the company ink” which refers to a man who has sex with his female coworkers. The females are the “company ink.”

This clearly shows the hetero-centric nature of American business. Because these days people are doing all kinds of things with their private parts that spread beyond inkwells and pens, but I digress.

As I watched the guard subdue Venita, I thought it was time to get out of the room. I hurried toward the door where I was met by an attractive man who could play football for the Kansas City Chiefs. He was 6’2” with salt-and-pepper hair. He opened the door and, and as I attempted to scoot by, said, “Ma’am, would you come with me. I have some questions for you.” He bowed slightly. That bow, and the gun in his shoulder holster, made me comply.

Mikey was so right about not showing up at the jail. All I want is the title to my car, which isn’t my car until she transfers the title to me.

Detective Richard Untergarten introduced himself as we walked to his cubicle. Several other detectives walked past us and said, “Hey, Big Dick. Who’s the lovely lady?”

“Just a person of interest.”

“Yeah, whatever big guy.”

He allowed me to enter his space first. The orderliness and neatness struck me first. I noticed the autographed and framed photo of Anderson Cooper. “Are you a fan of his? He just recently came out. Such a brave man.”

 Dick blushed. “Yes, ma’am. I respect Mr. Cooper’s insight on world situations.”

On his desk he keeps the Oscar Wilde Quote of the Day calendar. Yesterday’s quote was, “I may be lying in the gutter, but I’m looking at the stars.” He offered me a cup of Lady Grey tea.

As he left to fill his hot water pot, it dawned on me that something was odd about this situation. I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book: bad cop/good cop. I wondered when bad cop would appear.