A Random Image
 

Jett Superior laid this on you on || July 30, 2007 || 12:34 pm

A surprising reversal of traits.

On Friday afternoon:

“The neighborhood potluck is tomorrow night. We can’t bail two years in a row.”

“I’d rather have a razor blade enema than go to that.”

That last bit was uttered by your very own Maxim Superior, he of the gentle and decorously polite being. It shocked me raw, I reckon, because right there he summed up the part of myself that I’ve been working pret-ty dang hard to polish up and correct. It seems I’m shedding it all over him.

Don’t worry, though: We fared well in the arms of the antediluvian set that comprises the two square blocks around us. I would even dare say that we enjoyed ourselves (save for Piper, the little cheat, who went on to work) for five minutes at a time during random points throughout the evening. There was no shortage of casseroles, let me tell you, and who wouldn’t lovvvve that?

Hey, did you know that if a bug gets into your car’s air intake system and has the absolute nerve to be ripped to shreds, that one of its wings could possibly mimic a tiny plasticene thing and melt onto some Rather Small But Important Metal Bit? I didn’t either. But apparently it can happen. And apparently this blocks some sort of sensor, which (apparently) makes other sensors in the area get a little testy that the one sensor isn’t doing its fair share. They apparently then find it necessary to flip the CHECK ENGINE, OMG, CHECK ENGINE, THIS IS GONNA COST A SHITLOAD OF GREENBAX0RS!!! light on.

Given last year’s experience (three mortgage payments, for all you people who don’t hang on-slash-memorize my every word) with this whole check engine light business, I wanted teh option behind door number three, which was Get Hit In Face With Ball Peen Hammer Rather Than Pour Thousands More Into Vehicle. I took it to the dealership, crossed my fingers, my legs and held my breath. This inventive strategy worked, because I only had to throw down three figures instead of four, da w00t!

How sick is it when you are so radically jazzed that a bug wing cost you your week’s pay?? To go one further, how sick is it that you are grateful for that bug wing? Because, you know, if something like A BURNING LOG got sucked in there, it might not have been so fucking cheap.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

RSS feed for comments on this post.

(you know you want to)