Friday, February 2, 2007

Fuck you, Mr. Goodwrench

My car wouldn't start today.
She's a cranky bitch, my sexy-yet-elderly mode of to & fro.
Yes, it's -20 windchill and that's to be expected with my oldish car, whom I love as if she were a beloved 3-legged dog with mange. She is physically deteriorating and looks like she has a bad case of puberty acne, but she's paid for (for a while now) and usually doesn't let me down.
I feel kind of trashy and poor though, trying to get her started. All my neighbors can hear me trying over and over, thinking if I just stroke the steering wheel just right...

Why is it that though I possess (in no particular order): very good job, nice house, great moral barometer/husband, good shoes, friends, etc... yet when I am in a situation like this (generally car-related) I feel like I need to git' on back to the trailer to join my baby's daddy for some malt-liquor-swillin' hee-haw-style humpin?

Actually, come to think of it, that would be way more fun than work.

And it is Friday...

Trashy is as trashy does.

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