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Tuesday, February 07, 2006 

There’s a Bunch Of Shit That Made Me Want To Kick Everyone In The Head Today

First off, I was fucking late. Fucking late for the second day in a row. Fucking fucked up late. Yesterday someone died or almost died or something on my small windy road and so I had to back track all the way over the hills and through the woods to find civilization again. At which time I was promptly lost. Today I pass that same spot and learn something interesting, people can die and leave no landmark. It’s chilling in its sadness. But whatever, at least I’m not going to be late again. Fucking fucked up highway backed up for no god damn fucking reason that I can see. I’m late. Again. A motherfucking gain.


Shake it off.

Go apologize to the boss.

Kiss ass.

Oh, yeah. My brakes. They were screaming for mercy on the way to work. Call Midas. Explain that your last pontiac did this too, no squealing warning, just metal to metal. Try to get an appointment today so that you don’t completely fuck up your rotors. A hundred bucks. A hundred bucks that you don’t have. Check to see if your rent check’s cleared yet. Nope. You get paid on Friday. So… if you write a check today, maybe it won’t clear until you have money again? That would be sweet. Plus, my landlord’s out of town on business. He hasn’t cashed the rent check yet. Sometimes he’s a week late… and even if he isn’t late this week, this is obviously going to be one of those times when you knowingly overdraw your bank account.



It’ll take thirty minutes, some guy named Bo says. Bo. Like those dirty rotten Hazzard County boys. Fine. I’ll be there at two.

Eat lunch at my desk.

Drive down there at two trying to downshift into stops.

Sit in the waiting room with the bitch from hell while they inspect the car.

The bitch from hell hates her car, rolls her eyes at Bo, yells at her boyfriend and Bo to repeat every fucking god damned thing. She yells about the policy, she yells about her car, she yells about the price. The boyfriend says, I’ll pay it today, you pay me back tomorrow. Bitch stomps around the motherfucking room like she isn’t being done a goddamned favor.

Fine. Have them do the oil then too.

Boyfriend looks around, he says, well. The thing is, I don’t have that much cash on me.

She stomps foot. It’s not like you’re paying for it anyway! I’m paying you back!

Boyfriend looks around like there is a bomb in the room, Yeah. That’s cool. But I don’t got enough to cash to front if you know what I mean.

Fine. Huff puff and the bitch stomps away proving once again my point that as long as some fucking bitch is cute she can get away with having shit for a personality.

Seriously guys, I know you just want to bang hot chicks, but y’all have hearing don’t you?

So the guy working on my car comes over and says, hey miss, why don’t we walk over to your car and I’ll explain the situation.

This about the time that I realize I’m in hot water.

So, he says, your rotors are completely gone. And, you see this back here? How your (some technical word I don’t remember) is wet? That means that your wheel cylinder (or something or other) is leaking. Once it’s dry your going to put the brake pedal down and nothing’s going to happen. You’re just not going to stop.

All this sounds vaguely expensive to me.

He continues by saying, you should probably replace it. I mean, I can pass on it, but it’s definitely a safety hazard and I wouldn’t feel right about it.

Oh, I laugh, c’mon now. That sounds like fun!

His face goes blank.

I mean, braking but not stopping? Who would want to miss out on that?! Sounds like a free trip to the amusement park to me.

Now he laughs.

Well, miss, all of this is going to set you back 430 bucks.


Now he just looks shocked because I said this.

Well, I didn’t say it so much as yell it.

Then I apologized and immediately followed it up with HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

Because, four hundred and thirty bucks? Holy fucking shit is about the only retort I could properly come up with considering that I didn’t even have the original hundred.

I’m so obviously shocked that he takes 60 bucks off. Probably out of pity but I tell myself it’s because I’m so gosh darn pretty just to make myself feel better. It doesn’t work so I walk around the parking lot. When I get all anxious I walk. I pick stuff up and put it down. I am basically a bunch of motion without production.

I’m standing in the waiting room when another bitch walks in, already rolling her eyes and sporting the whole holier than thou routine. What the fuck is up with these females? Holy shit I hate girls! So the guy working on my car (and if you know a lot about cars and somehow think he ripped me off, please don’t tell me. I already paid the fucking place) asks her if she’s been helped. She rolls her eyes and states snottily, I have an appointment.

So fucking what you have an appointment! First off, Midas doesn’t make appointments, secondly, YOU STILL HAVE TO CHECK IN YOU WHORE.

I seriously have no idea how people put up with such rude behavior from customers. I wanted to smack her for him.

She’s wearing american eagle pants, some stupid white belt with stars, and way too much gray eye shadow, plus she even walks like a bitch.


I go for a walk.

I call up my friend and laugh hysterically over how broke I am.

I walk into Jack in the box, use the restroom, and wait in line to buy a soda. Which is when some drunk guy who can’t walk straight and keeps having to pull up his pants decides to stand next to me.

Then some other girl that is also drunk at three in the afternoon starts screaming for the bathroom. OH MY GOD!


I seriously hate so many people, and want to watch them die long horrible deaths, that I am afraid to see a therapist in case she’s required to alert the authorities about my possible murderous tendencies.

I leave Jack in the Box because all of a sudden, and for no apparent reason, I am disgusted that people would put such trash in their bodies.

Don’t worry, I know enough to know that I am only mad because I’m not having the best day ever.

So I go back to the waiting room where the only seat left is next to the girl who thinks rolling your eyes and acting like you’re better than the midas guy gets you into heaven. I sit down and she leans WAY OVER in her chair, gets up and pulls it away from me and sits back down.


I took a shower today you bitch.

I was so tempted to pull that ferris bueller move and tell her her eye makeup made her look like a whore.

To top things off she called her mommy and told her to put the money in the account to pay for her shocks.


Not asked, but told.

Little princess slut.

Somewhere along the way thirty minutes has turned into three and a half hours.

Jesus fucking christ I’m going to get fired.



Shake it off.

On the tv screen is maury, then tyra, then montel, where people confess the most horrible shit while smiling.
I helped my dad rape my friend.

My ex-husband married me as a front to cover for his gay lover that committed murder that was hiding from the law after he (my ex husband) paid for his sex change.

My ex-husband gave me aids after sleeping with multiple strange men.

I turn to Bo and say, what is wrong with these people? This is the kind of stuff you don’t tell your mother, let alone the whole nation, and then sit there all proud. These people should go live in a whole.

He laughs.

Bo has an annoying voice, he talks all loud and cocky and interrupts everyone, like they’re deaf or he knows them well enough to complete their sentences. It’s slightly annoying, but he’s not an asshole, so I don’t really care. Personally, if I were him, I would’ve sprayed half of my customers with bullets years ago.
Bo overhears me leaving a message for my boss explaining that I’m still in the shop, when I hang up he says, Oh just go in there and bat your pretty eyes. I’m sure you can get out of whatever trouble you’re in.

Nope. Doesn’t work on him.

You’re kidding!

This somehow makes my day slightly better.

Which proves another one of my random points. Women like compliments, especially when they’ve had a bad day.

The end.


I Can't Help You Now - Look, I have two songs on my hard drive that don't have the name 'iTunes' tatooed to their asses, so suck it
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