my friends know me exceptionally well...
okay. wow.
Friday Night I had been threatened for two consecutive days that chris was going to try to get me drunk on friday night.
no one would tell me why...
....they got me drunk......
they got me plastered 3:12am: sara puccio calls me.
i found this odd in part, because in all the years i've known sara she's rarely stayed up that late...
i also found this odd because she said
"
hey what are you doing?"
"nothing." i say in my best,
i'm in complete control of my facilities voice...
"
oh, okay..." a friend of her's laughs loudly in the background.
"so what's up?"i ask.
so much spinning "
nothing."
"okay."
"
okay, i'll talk to you later."
"yeah..."
click ::claudia picks the cellphone back up and hits speed dial number six::
sara answers
"
hello?"
"did you actually call just to ask me what i was up to?"
"
yeah."
"okay. bye."
::claudia turns back to her computer screen and instant messages chris::
( the calm before the storm ) ten minutes pass, and then chris knocks on my door. he's wearing a coat.
"put on a blindfold."
excuse me "put on a blindfold."
should i put on shoes? "yeah. put on shoes and a coat. and then put on a blindfold."
so i put on shoes and a coat, and then i put on a blindfold.
so i grabbed my apartment keys, and in my permitted bathroom break i told myself i should probably get my
phone too, but by the time i got back out there, i'd forgotten this.
so, in my coat, pajama pants, hastily-tied sneakers and blindfold, i was led to the front door of the apartment.
"should i shut the door?"
"naw, just leave it, kyle can get it, watch your step."
i was pulled down the stoop and down the sidewalk and prompted to watch the curb, and then in a matter of
seconds my thighs hit something weighty.
"get in."
i couldn't have argued before i found myself in the back of what felt like an suv.
none of my friends own suv's.
i did all that i could in the darkness, i listened.
i heard the car door open, and within a few more seconds, i heard the car door close. the engine revved and
we were moving. the car was silent, i tried to keep my bearings.
now here is my logic on this: i trusted the person who'd put me in this car, and i'd assumed the door being
opened and closed was an indication he was traveling with me. regardless of this fact, i have seen a lot of movies.
and if i've learned one thing from all of those movies, it's that those who have been tied up and driven around in
a trunk can in fact identify the location they were taken to, if only they pay attention.
i was adamant.
if this were in actuality, a rape trap, and i was to be misused and potentially harmed i would nail those bastards...
i raised my head at an awkward angle and managed to look out underneath the blindfold along the slope of my
nose.
home theater was a prominent sign, white text on a grey background.
this satisfied me as an adequate landmark and i began to count.
four minutes at a steady speed of what felt like sixty or seventy miles an hour. left turn.
three and a half minutes at an approximate speed followed by a slight right, more of a bearing.
twelve minutes at a steady speed, closer to seventy-five,
then my counting was thrown off by the lump that hit me in the face.
something wrapped loosely in tin-foil sat to my right. i left it on the floor, but used my right hand to unwrap it.
i let my fingers dance over it, but couldn't discern what it was. so i applied a bit more pressure with my pointer.
"what the fuck? is this cake? what the fuck?"
taking a chunk in my fingers, i brought it up to my nose. it did indeed, smell like cake.
again my logic took control.
i trusted who had put me in this car, by extension i trusted whoever was driving. if this was in any way an act of
malevolence, that is to say, if the cake
were drugged, it was probably drugged with something relatively harmless.
my hand went down for a larger bit of cake and brought the piece up to my face. 'a scientist knows not, without proof.'
much to my chagrin, the cake tasted much like the carpet it was resting on.
"ugh, this tastes like play-doh."
at this, my captors let out hurried breaths and stifled laughter.
i licked my fingers clean and as best i could blindly, i wrapped the cake back up and set it aside.
i had lost count at this point and settled into the idea that i would not be of much help to the police after my rescue.
the radio fizzed for a second and then sound rang out from the speakers above my head...
"Mar
cie Dahlgren-Frost. Dahlgren is my maiden name, Frost is my married
n
ame. I'm single again but i never bothered to remove the Frost, and I get
comp
liments on the hyphen."
it stopped and repeated. i laughed out loud. if it meant nothing else, laurie metcalf's voice surely meant i was in the car
of someone who knew me well. i sat, blind to the world, legs outstreched in the back of a steadily-moving vehicle and i
relaxed, entertaining fabulous ideas of where i would be when the blindfold was removed. i was shaken from my revery
by a familiar voice.
"alright, we're lost. take the blindfold off."
"ryan?"
it was indeed ryan, and jen i noted, after my eyes stopped burning. i'd forgotten i did have a friend with an suv.
jen drove a wrangler. see, i wouldn't have been much help to the police afterall.
the dopes were lost. they'd fallen off of 95 and landed on the garbage chute that is 93.
i actually don't have a problem with 93, the massachusetts roadways are expertly maintained...
so i gave my kidnappers directions on how to get back to where they were whisking me.
we got to connecticut at seven in the morning. where jen promptly ran to a staff meeting at blockbuster.
ryan and i passed out on the couch.
at noonish-oneish we got up and hit the train to new york city.
a walk, a wait in line, a fleeing of times square, another wait in line and an uproariously funny dinner at the Jekyl
and Hyde Club later, we were back on the train to connecticut.
we hit danbury at midnight, i kissed my parents hello and goodbye and grabbed my stuff.
we putted along 84 in ryan's classy, though understated ford tempo, and three hours of wheel scraping good
conversation later we pulled pack in front of strathmore manor.
exactly twenty-four hours after we'd left.
now for further information on this kidnapping and/or the events in new yourk city, please write this poster at bidmis@prodigy.net
also, if ryan is less of a tool than i tend to believe he is, he's probably posted his and jen's perspective on his livejournal.
thicneif i'm wrong, and he hasn't, which i'm sure of.
you better do it you fucktard. at the end of all this, i was tired. no, i was exhausted.
but i loved every second of it.
my friends know me well enough to know that i would absolutely be overjoyed to be thrown in the trunk of a car and transported over state lines...
thankyou to everyone involved,
sincerely.
now that the sentiment is out of the way... other interesting news in the mind of claudia
so claudia, now that i've heard the remarkable tale of your kidnapping and resultant sleep deprivation, tell me, are there any other things i should be excited about? yes. oh god, yes. okay first off...
csi ...when i was kidnapped, i was right in the middle of updating my livejournal.
i was of course commenting, as promised, on my reaction to episode 612,
Daddy's Little Girl.
for now i'm going to leave what was going to be said at this, 'holy shit'. daddy's little girl was fucking incredible.
seriously, f u c k i n g i n c r e d i b l e, seriously.
but all that seems distant now, because chris and i broke down and read
every spoiler that
mystery had to offer for episode 615...
if you don't want to be made aware of some serious spoilers, don't read what's indented below, for serial.
episode 615. 'pirates of the third reich'
• an intentionally 'beyond hysterical' episode of CSI. one-liners, puns, double-takes, etc.
• features a one-eyed lobotomized pirate...
• features a one-eyed lobotomized pirate...
•
yes, it features a one-eyed lobotomized pirate...
• it has, holy christ, lady heather, holy christ. and it sounds like she is revealed to us in a manner worthy of the death star...god these people know good tv.
• grissom
kills someone. fuck yes. he fucking kills someone.
fuck! • here's an example of some of the dialogue...
Grissom:
"No AFIS hits on our Jane Doe. But given the unusual
circumstances,
we've put a bulletin out to surrounding
agencies and the media. Maybe someone will recognize
her from the photo. Where are you?"
Sara:
"on the train to Crazyville."
Grissom has heard through the grapevine, gets a glint. Grissom:
"Did you get a peek under his patch?"
Sara:
glinting back "I left that for the doctor."
maguicken!
...and another good one-liner.... Re: Brass and Sara question someone about the one-eyed, lobotomized pirate:
Bra
ss:
"So, what happened with Jack?"
Sa
ra:
"Couldn't keep an eye on him?"
HA needless to say after that, i can't wait for this episode. chris and i will be shutting down Brookline the night this airs.
...which is potentially, by the way, february 9. but i have no confirmation on that ...an
d one more time: a one-eyed, lobotomized pirate. wtf.
second point of interest
X Men 3 holy shit.
chris and i did a little more digging today.
kel
sey grammer is
( the beast ), we knew that...
but oh my god. he's fucking central to the plot of this movie. which means,
loads of the beast! fucking oodles!
i'll let this article do a lot of the speaking for me. wow.
nerdcentral chris and i are very very excited for this movie...
and let me say one more time, wheatsie, that as far as i am concerned the book on
ocean's twelve/transporter 2 is closed.
i will
not see X men 3 without you...i swear it on my mother's grave
"...wait a minute, your mother is alive."
"my grandmother's grave, don't be technical, hildy."
and on that note. i end another grotesquely long livejournal post. god save the queen. Current Mood: feeling optimistic. that sounds more depressing than it is...Current Music: Something Like That-N.W.A.-Straight Outta Compton 
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tankenblow's journal
tired
diggin' everything but that damn smiley face next to this line of text that i can't get rid of...
