Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Stupid Winter.

Why it that your car never acts like a dick when the sun's shining, the birds are chirping, and the weather's a balmy 75 degrees. Oh no. Your car knows when it's 11 degrees outside. It times things, it knows the sun won't even be up yet, and you will, naturally, be in capri sweats, and a light jacket, because you think you're not going to have to spend time outside.

And then, when you get to the service station, you will discover that your tire is really, REALLY flat, not the little bit low that it was last night, when you resolved to go to the service station to get air in the morning. Yep. And the air? It's not gonna go in, because you've somehow got the tire skewed off the rim. And you'll end up making the humiliating call to your dad, because despite your paean to womanhood and equality last night, you still have difficulty changing your own tires. Sure, you understand it in principle, but you can't very well change the damn tire when you can't get the nut holding the jack in it's protective hidey hole to so much as budge.

And your dad will drag his ass out of bed, before six ayem, with a head cold that makes him sound quite a bit like Darth Vader (Sauce, I am your father...) and you feel like a total shit, because he had just asked you that morning to snag him some Contac on your way back from the gym, so you KNOW he's really sick. (because he NEVER takes drugs, ever.) And he will change your tire, and you'll give him the coffee you snagged in the convenience store when you got change for the air machine. And everything will work out, probably.

Except it's really funny to try to go to the repair shop on your donut, doing well under the speed limit, because you really don't want to die in a fiery crash because the stupid wheel went flying off. And the repair shop won't find anything wrong with your tire, so they'll keep it, and send you off to work (luckily, close) with your donut. You'll be glad for the chance to not have to do extraneous errands till it's fixed, and while you're typing the entire escapade for the 3 people who read your silly little blog, you will notice 4 beautiful does in the yard, and watch them for as long as you can. And you'll suddenly feel a lot better for some odd reason.


Blogger parcequilfaut said...

Totally an ET moment, ET. I know how to change a tire, I can DO it. The thing is that...I suck at it.

Your adopted dad is cooler than my adopted dad because he would shag ass up at 6 ayem to offer assistance. My dad won't even renew my sub to AAA.

Glad it worked out.

10:24 AM  
Blogger Ghost of Goldwater said...

Me, I just rest my case. *nods*

3:21 PM  

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