why does this shit always happen when I am tired and pissy?
February 25, 2008
I had been up since 8am on Sunday morning.
I had just worked a loooong 10-hour shift.
And what happens to me after a long 10-hour shift on a Monday morning in the parking lot at work?
Well, I go out to warm up my car and am about to pull out of my parking space and head home to my warm, ever-loving bed when…ker thunk ker thunk…
No, bitch! NoNoNO!
Flat tire. Flat as a fucking rubber pancake.
I quickly re-parked the car, hopped out and opened the trunk to get out the jack and the donut. And then I realized something.
Oh my freaking god…I can’t change a tire. I can’t change a fucking tire!
Oh, I tried to change the tire. Believe me. I really, truly did. You see, I had always thought to myself that if push came to shove and necessity was my teacher, I could learn just about any skill I needed to survive in this cold, mechanical age we live in.
But, you know…it was fucking 10 degrees outside with a wind chill factor that would strip paint off a house. I had no gloves. And I was so tired that I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the pavement and fall into a deep never-ending sleep world populated by teddy bears and fuzzy pink unicorns.
Lucky for me, men love a damsel in distress. Or, well, actually…no they don’t, really… But men DO love ME. So, I managed to use my boobies to my advantage…even though my hair was a rat’s nest and I was covered in so much dirt and grime from the job that I looked like I had emerged from a West Virginia coal mine.
Hey…nobody was looking at my hair or my dirty hands.
One of the guys I work with put my donut on the car for me, and I was able to maneuver my way through downtown to the local fucking anti-christ…Wal-Mart.
First I had to wait an hour for the Lube and Tire part to open up…and then I had to wait another hour for them to put the tires on my car. So, I wandered around a florescent hell for two hours, red-eyed and weary…and probably looking quite degenerate.
People in blue Wal-Mart smocks kept asking if they could help me. Um…people who work at Wal-Mart NEVER ask if they can help me. I must have looked pretty bad. They probably thought I was going to start foaming at the mouth or something…or that I would steal some China-manufactured piece of plastic crap from the billion dollar Wal-Mart empire.
Psssh…please.
Anyway…it was three and a half whole hours from the initial time I got off work to when I actually arrived home and was able to crawl into bed and sink into a blessed, undisturbed slumber. Which, I suppose, when you look at all the crap I had to take care of…that isn’t so bad, really.
Could’ve been a lot worse. I could’ve had a blow-out while driving. And I’m not one to react with a zen calm while careening wildly into on-coming traffic. I am more of the scream and throw my arms in the air or hide under the dashboard type of girl.
Luck is truly on my side so far this year.
