03 July 2007

singing over and over in my head

So I'm in the Big D (and don't mean Dallas). If you don't know what I mean, just think for a second about Michigan and which city, if any, you might know in it. A city that starts with a D. Cars? Oh, I give up.

Driving here seemed to take forever (I hate I-94 with a burning passion because 1. no one seems to know how to drive on highways in this state - merge, people! merge!; and 2. too many evil semis) and I very nearly crashed myself on the freeway because I was twisting around trying to watch the planes landing at DTW. I was thinking about how I, myself, might soon be on a plane flying through that airport. Going... well, somewhere soon to be determined, maybe, I think. And then announced.

Concerning the big Deeee, I have this to say:

1. It cannot take that long to heat up spinach artichoke dip. No, it cannot.
2. I hope my car doesn't get broken into. It's not made by a US automaker. T says that's good. Less carjacking possibilities.

What? I'm in DEE-TROIT, people. Stuff happens here. Or maybe it won't, but you can't necessarily totally assume it won't. And no, I don't mean the suburbs where the white people all fled some time ago. DEE-TROIT City.



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