Last night Sylvia and I watched Quentin Dupieux's absurdist comedy-fantasy Rubber. I enjoyed it well enough, though I wish it had been a little less self-consciously clever and a little funnier. For Sylvia, however, the movie fell flat - as did, in a strange coincidence, our right front tire after having lunch at Creole Envie with her parents. Thankfully Sylvia's father Gill came to the rescue and slapped on the emergency spare.
Two weeks ago Sylvia warned me that the right front tired seemed to be losing air. But as is sometimes my wont, I merely nodded and promised to fill it soon. Naturally I forgot, leading to today's embarrassing pit stop.
I wouldn't blame Sylvia at all if she considered both the film and my cavalier attitude toward auto maintenance somewhat...tiresome.
Two weeks ago Sylvia warned me that the right front tired seemed to be losing air. But as is sometimes my wont, I merely nodded and promised to fill it soon. Naturally I forgot, leading to today's embarrassing pit stop.
I wouldn't blame Sylvia at all if she considered both the film and my cavalier attitude toward auto maintenance somewhat...tiresome.
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