53,000 miles on my car. FIFTY THREE. That's like... mid-life crisis for a car. I bought the car at the beginning of September with only 37,000 miles on it. That means I drove 16,000 miles in nine months. Wow.

Alright, so it's not that bad. But you don't realize that at 60,000 miles, there is a service on my car. It's almost mandatory, since the things that need to be serviced at that time are what keep the car from blowing up. To complicate matters more, i'm still trying to put on my turbo. I really don't want to roll up to the dealership with an aftermarket turbo on my car. I kinda feel like they'll blame me for breaking parts and try to charge me double or something.

Also, my shocks are so messed up. I didn't realize how messed up they were until an acquantence yesterday, who was driving in another car asked me why my car seemed to jump up and down so much. Trust me, buddy, they ain't no hydrolics.

Now i am here in Jersey, trying to find my friend Kim to celebrate her birthday and also to find my friend Jim so I can get his birthday present and give it to Brian (who's birthday passed a week or so ago) down in Maryland for him. And I still owe my other Brian-ly named friend something since his birthday passed this week also. Damn it. There's alot of freakin April birthdays.

And my birthday is coming soon too.

Countdown to the greatest day on Earth. Take one.