Public Nuisance

My day went from shit to shittier starting at 0′Dark thirty when I arose to greet the fabulous world with instant angst.

I drive this crappy 1990 Chevy Cavalier which is threatening my sanity only slightly less than it threatens my life every time I decide to climb behind its wheel.  I need a new car.  You know you need a new car when you start negotiating in your own mind the financial ramifications of getting the oil changed or actually filling the gas tank all the way.  If you are that uncertain of getting your $19.95′s worth out of it before it takes an eternal slumber – its time for a new ride.

And no, I don’t mean your mom.

Funny thing is: I just got the oil changed.  That’s how ambitiously lazy I am as a matter of fact.  I have needed an oil change now for about 2000 miles, however I have needed a new turn signal and brake light set of bulbs for nearly a year.  Leaving work I got tagged by the fuzz and jerked into the gas station to have the Incredible Hulk, who happens to work for the Renton Police Department, tell me my tail light was out and I should have it repaired right away.

I did my best to act surprised that it was out.  I know for a fact that my thespian skills were THAT good and he believed every word I uttered – I mean how many people do they get that deny knowing they did anything wrong or have not taken the proper safety measures to ensure other drivers would be aware of your astute intentions?

So anyway, I got the oil changed and had the crackerjack team of ace mechanics at Jiffy Lube replace the bulbs for me.  $62.00 and some change later I had fresh oil, fresh lights and a smoother sliding gear shift-stick thingy.  What do I wake up to this morning though?  My driver-side door won’t close all the way!  At first I thought I just wasn’t giving it enough *umph* as I slammed it shut, but no it wouldn’t catch at all.

So I go into work, leave my door slightly ajar and let it do what it do.  I drive home after some verification that my door is still a mess, holding on to the outside oh-so craftily so that no one would be the wiser and successfully made it to my final destination.  I re-rechecked my door again and re-verified that it was a lost cause.

This door has always sagged like Oprah’s unshackled chest; however it has been getting worse ever since “Security” where I work – busted the locking mechanism inside the door, while trying to pop it one day I had managed to lock my keys inside.

So I turn to my one true friend… the one I can rely on to make me happy regardless what kind of day I have: The Internet.  I find myself watching videos from BeenerKeeKee1995 (a.k.a. Keenan Cahill) and getting really irritated with him.  I’m guessing this ‘kid’ is like 14-ish, hence the 1995, and its not that I don’t find God’s little clowns funny, but DAMN!

First off he looks like the test-tube child of Doctor Ruth and Sallie Jesse Raphael.  I quickly got over his outer appearance after realizing I actually look like the love child of Beaver Cleaver and Howdy Doody… its cool.  But then I see his lip synching of a Dane Cook comedy routine – dude… STOP!

I like Dane Cook just fine, but I don’t like hearing his routines repeated by people NOT him.  Let alone some semi-autistic midget doing his pantomime of the routine.  No offense Keenan.  And no offense to the legitimate mimes out there trying to make a living in this new shitty economy… I just call ‘em as I see’s ‘em.  This is not unlike having new subscribers to Comedy Central exclaiming “I’m Rick James, Bitch!”  Please, you are not the first to see Dave Chappelle.  And please stop watching reruns – there’s better stuff to rot your brains than that.

What’s even worse is that the piss-poor mock-comedy review reminds me of actual restrooms.  Specifically the ones where I work.  The toilets at that place are those shallow bowl kinds, with practically no clearance from rim to basin.  The water level is just high enough to possibly be refreshing to your ‘baggage’ on a hot summer’s day.  However it’s not summer… and I’m actually USING the toilet.  Those are NOT the kids I planned on taking for a dip in the pool!  You know how much a pain in the proverbial ass it is to try and follow one train of thought (taking a dump) while simultaneously positioning yourself so that your carry-on luggage is not acting as a floatation device?  Uncomfortable much!?

So then I’m reminded of my broke-ass car in the parking lot… guilt by association type of thing.  It’s a never ending cycle!