I’ve often asked myself and my nonexistent readers why I keep up with this thing. I’m not 100% on this, but I think it might be because I’m bored. And sometimes when I’m super-extra-bored, like Friday afternoons when I’m staying late at the office, or maybe like right now, I search through the archives to see what I was doing one, two, and three years ago. And the verdict? I was complaining about being bored.
My car is possessed by the devil, or someone of equal evilness out to destroy my soul, like maybe George Lucas. Last week the car decided it would be awesome if it started leaking coolant and not tell me until it was completely out (as per usual with the warnings on my car, always the very last minute. There’s probably a light that says “You ran out of gas ten minutes ago” or “Check rear tire, it just fell off” or maybe “Just disengaged the brakes, good luck not dying, fucker”). So I cancelled a planned trip to visit friends, and instead stayed in, watched Heroes, annoyed the bird, and failed to eat a single square meal. Yesterday I had chips for “brunch” and pudding for supper. Anyway, today I got up super early and took the car in to my mechanic, who, as far as mechanics go, looks like he might be kind of honest. I heard “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” on the radio on the way in, so I was thinking kind thoughts until he told me fixing whatever the hell is wrong with my car (something about taking the engine apart, we do this all the time, blah blah) would cost six hundred dollars. Which brings the total I’ve spent on my car problems since May to $1200, which is more than I make in a month, which I’m aware is pathetic, which is why I sometimes stray from my tasks to rant, which does not solve anything but makes me feel better, as does blaming this problem on George Lucas.
And that is why I’m in a hella bad mood and thinking once again of selling my blood and/or possessions. Unfortunately no one seems to want either.