this ringing in my head, is this a cure or is this a disease?

sadly, i've always been a fan of those dorky car commercials.

you know. the ones with the spiffy new cars that are little standard hatchbacks with low front ends and a sunroof? the ones where there's always a nice looking man driving a nice looking woman in high heels around. invariably, she's wearing some sort of top that glitters, or a brighty coloured tank top with large hoop earrings. he'll be wearing khakis and some sort of brand name top, but they're both pretty generic. the sun shines through the trees and the woman will wave her hand through the air as she's escorted around. and there's always a catchy tune as a soundtrack.

imagine my delight when i found myself actually in this car commercial.

a nice little hatchback, silver. standard, with a little front end and headlights that are not buggy at all. the man driving is not however generic. he's wearing a t shirt that has the sleeves cut off [a job done entirely on his own with a pair of rather dull scissors i might add], displaying tribalesque tattoos. his feet are bare, so he's mangling the clutch slightly. oh, and let's not forget- he smokes. the girl in front, well...she's in a hippy shirt matched with rolled up jeans, her hair blowing in the wind with no earrings in sight.

and the soundtrack? rage against the machine.

not generic at all, but i still swung my hand through the air and watched the sun dance in the trees. i even took a picture of my feet on kevin's dashboard to commemeorate the event.

who needs generic when you've got family?