Hey everyone, let me start out with the origin of the title of this blog. I am referring to the senior paint job my friends and I did to my car. Pictures are available on my schools out blog. Well 3 or so weeks later, and being after my grad party, Dad said it was time to get it cleaned off, and since it's technically his car, I need to listen to him on those matters. Well I go to the car wash to get it cleaned off. I was going to get a low end wash, but the guy said I won't get any of it off unless I get the next level of wash. OK, so I get that. They scrub my car for maybe 6 minutes, and get a fair amount off. He then tells me that he needs to send me through because there was someone behind me, but then come back to get the rest off. I go through and not much comes off, then get back. He gets some more off that wouldn't come off the first time, but then the gold paint just wouldn't come off. Oh well, it was my fail racing flame that I was worried about because I work at a country club and staff parking is right next to hole 11. I don't think the golfers would like having that eye sore while hitting.
Well I come home and get the sponge we used to get the paint off when I proved to dad that it'll come off. It didn't like to come off this time. Dad goes to the auto store to get some buffer polish or something that actually does a good job at getting the paint off. My dad and my brother come out to help me. We get most of it off, but now I just need to scrub it later this week.
After a few hours, I go to my friends graduation party. He's blind and autistic, and both of his parents are def. For any of you extreme makeover home edition, you would remember that family from back in 2005-06. They are doing very well, and the son is incredibly smart. He was in my English class both 10th and 11th grade, and he got amazing grades. It was cool meeting his dad, and I sure hope I signed thank-you properly and not whatever the swear word is that has a very similar sign (I would tell you what it is but all I was told by an acquaintance that knows sign language is that it's a bad word). I think I did it properly, or he realized what I was trying to say because he gestured that he understood. I know incredibly broken sign language, in fact only 23 of the 26 letters and less than 10 practical signs, but I knew thank-you and that's all I really needed to know.
I opened all my graduation cards when I got back, but that's a blog for a later date when it's all done and I've gotten all my mail cards. I'll take a fun picture of me with all my stuff. Until later, this has been Pokematic, later.
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