scrawls.

scrawls

still cheaper than therapy*

24.1.05

The car busted again.

an alternator? the part where you try to turn on the car, and instead of going vroom, it goes ticky-ticky-tick? That part. And then all the men driving by in their big trucks stop and look at it and marvel at the lovely, perfect Veedub engine, and they try to jump it, and it goes ticky-ticky-tick. And they shove it over to the side of the road. And then you've called the Veedub roadside asst line and they said Sure the tow truck is coming and Of course we're paying for it and then the tow truck people don't get there for two and a half fucking hours. And you want to call for pizza delivery and say We'll give you $10 extra if you beat the tow truck man. And then the Veedub people don't rent you a car right away and when they do, finally, it's a cheap little red sporty thing with big old blind spots and soft pedals. And what you mean by soft pedals is - the Veedub pedals are like the expensive foamy pillow - you push on it and you know you're pushing on it, there's some resistance, something happens right away, but this idiotic Pontiac, it's fluffy and not hypoallergenic, you're pushing on the pedals, and nothing is fucking happening, and you seriously have to almost slam on the fucking brakes to get the thing to do any more than coast to a stop, and it doesn't start fast either. shouldn't sporty things start quickly? - whereas this, this i have to floor it to get to the corner. On top of which it's red and feels like everybody must be looking at me - who drives a red, sporty, noisy-enginned pile of crap?

And when you're stuck just down the road from some folks' houses and they come by with the beer and with the wine and there's the weird little rum-flavored cigarillos in the back seat and you drink all of the Flavored Malt Beverages in one friend's house, since, fuck, you're not going anywhere - where you goin? NO where - and why not? and if they've been there for months and his roommates aren't drinking them anyway. So you're sitting on the kerb waiting for the damn tow and you've got your port wine and cigarillos. And, sadly, no pizza.

Labels: emptor

scrawled @ 16:30