Somehow, I made her look French. Unintentionally. She's got that je ne sais quoi.
Showing posts with label gina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gina. Show all posts
Lordy, Lordy, Gina's Forty!
And still goofy.
Somehow, I made her look French. Unintentionally. She's got that je ne sais quoi.
Somehow, I made her look French. Unintentionally. She's got that je ne sais quoi.
Other People's Stories, Part 4 of ?: Gina, you look horrible!
This is, obviously, another Gina story. I think this is why I like Gina, in part, because something about her attracts unusual experiences.
When Gina and I were in college, we were both members of this anti-drinking club that was, strangely, named after the god of wine: Bacchus. I wasn't as much of a drunk in those days, but why I would be a part of this group, why Gina would be a part of this group, or even why the group had such an ironic name; all of this is now mysterious to me, lost in the sands of time. It was something to do, I guess.
The incident I am about to describe may or may not have been a function of Bacchus. It sounds like something they would do, but I'm not sure. Perhaps Gina will clarify the details for us, but the story I remember is this:
Gina volunteered to be a part of a mock accident downtown. They got an actual car that had been wrecked in a drunk driving accident, and then volunteers (Gina included) were made up by professional make-up artists to look like victims of the crash. The victims would then lay around the street and bleed. People who walked by and saw this horrific scene would get literature about the perils of drunk driving. I don't know if Gina had to act out anything, or if she just lay there, or what all happened, but she did go and get herself made up by a professional make-up artist to look as though she had just been run over by a car. She looked like she really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.
She had a good time doing the whole thing. When the mock accident was over, since she didn't drive yet, she began her long walk home, looking like someone who really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.
I don't know if she didn't have the facilities to wash off the make-up there, if it wouldn't come off, if she didn't care- maybe she can clarify all this. Maybe I'm making all this up. The mind does strange things. But, the way I remember it, she said she saw loads of people on the way home, and many of them asked her if she needed help. If she needed to go to the hospital. If she needed a doctor. All the way home. Can you imagine it? Through all those nice little touristy side streets of Durango. Up the front hill. I don't know if she tried to hitch a ride up the front hill or not, but it was a common practice at the time. All the way home, looking like she really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.
This whole story I just related makes her blog entry here even funnier.
When Gina and I were in college, we were both members of this anti-drinking club that was, strangely, named after the god of wine: Bacchus. I wasn't as much of a drunk in those days, but why I would be a part of this group, why Gina would be a part of this group, or even why the group had such an ironic name; all of this is now mysterious to me, lost in the sands of time. It was something to do, I guess.
The incident I am about to describe may or may not have been a function of Bacchus. It sounds like something they would do, but I'm not sure. Perhaps Gina will clarify the details for us, but the story I remember is this:
Gina volunteered to be a part of a mock accident downtown. They got an actual car that had been wrecked in a drunk driving accident, and then volunteers (Gina included) were made up by professional make-up artists to look like victims of the crash. The victims would then lay around the street and bleed. People who walked by and saw this horrific scene would get literature about the perils of drunk driving. I don't know if Gina had to act out anything, or if she just lay there, or what all happened, but she did go and get herself made up by a professional make-up artist to look as though she had just been run over by a car. She looked like she really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.
She had a good time doing the whole thing. When the mock accident was over, since she didn't drive yet, she began her long walk home, looking like someone who really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.
I don't know if she didn't have the facilities to wash off the make-up there, if it wouldn't come off, if she didn't care- maybe she can clarify all this. Maybe I'm making all this up. The mind does strange things. But, the way I remember it, she said she saw loads of people on the way home, and many of them asked her if she needed help. If she needed to go to the hospital. If she needed a doctor. All the way home. Can you imagine it? Through all those nice little touristy side streets of Durango. Up the front hill. I don't know if she tried to hitch a ride up the front hill or not, but it was a common practice at the time. All the way home, looking like she really, really, really needed to go to the hospital- bad.
This whole story I just related makes her blog entry here even funnier.
Other People's Stories, Part 3 of ?: A New ID Card for Gina
This is sort of my story, too, because I was there, although it didn't really happen to me. It happened to Gina.
Gina and I went to college together. We got to know each other pretty quickly, because we were both from California, we were both English majors, and we were both going to college in Durango, Colorado. Her house in California was pretty close to my grandparents' house, so on school vacations, she would get a ride home with me, and we had two days on the road together to talk, each way. She gave me gas money. Gina didn't drive, herself. She'd never gotten around to getting a license.
Once, while at college in Colorado, Gina decided to get a Colorado ID card. She only had a California one. (For non-USA dwellers: in the US, we generally use a state driver's license as identification, but if you don't drive, you can get an ID card. It looks just like a driver's license, except that, at the top where it usually says, "Driver's License" it says, "ID Card".) I agreed to drive her downtown to get her ID.
I remember we were in the little office. Gina was at the counter talking with the DMV guy about her ID. I believe she said something like,
"I'd like to trade in my California ID for a Colorado ID."
I spaced out for a little while. The only other two people at the Durango DMV were talking about the Catch-22 of the motorcycle license: in order to ride a motorcycle, you had to have a license, but in order to learn to ride a motorcycle, you had to ride a motorcycle- and presumably that required a license. The two guys agreed you just had to ride it in low traffic areas without a license, until you could take the actual test for the license. Suddenly, I looked up and noticed that they were giving Gina an eye exam.
Eye exam? Since when do you have to see well to have an ID card?
Uncharacteristically, I had the good sense to say nothing. Gina finished the eye test, smiled for the picture, and came to sit by me for a minute while we waited for the card to be printed. Uncharacteristically, Gina also said nothing.
We walked out of there with a nice, shiny, new driver's license for Gina. She had never taken a driving test.
"I think they just gave me a driver's license! Oh, my god! This is a driver's license!"
We were both pretty satisfied with the day's events. Years later, she drives just like anyone else. I'm not positive, but I don't think she's ever had an accident- except for that time I was teaching her to drive and she let the VW roll back a little too far and tap the Volvo behind us, but I don't think that really counts.
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