The tire is flat...again. Every time I am in a hurry to go somewhere (which is makes up about 90% of my trips), it is flat. Everytime I say to myself "Self, you need to go down to Schwabs and have that fixed." I will make a mental note of it. Again. Here I am, standing in the freezing cold, running late, staring at a puddle of rubber that one resembled a tire. The drill is the same, unlock the garage, plug in the compressor, get the tire gauge. I'm as fast and efficient as any NASCAR pit crew member at this point. Thinking about digging out my button up flannel shirt from my Nirvana days since it has the perfect front pocket for my tire gauge. Full circle, you see.
January 10, 2011
2011: An Overview
Hangover, G.I. Joe shatters a molar requiring a $1000 crown (did I mention no dental insurance?), The flower shop I use to work at (and had the prospect of going back to work at) closed, the sudden death of Caplin Rous (the world's most famous giant rodent I met in Texas and fell madly in love with), the cancellation of Paranormal State ending my weekly chance to foam at the mouth over Ryan Buell, and last but certainly not least, my son giggling and acting out (with pelvic thrusts) what it might look like if a Great Dane and a Chihuahua were mating. WTF? I'm not two weeks into 2011 and this is what it looks like? An omen, perhaps? At the risk of puking in my mouth from optimism, I am going to guess that I'm just getting the crap out of the way now. Speaking of which, I smell a litterbox that needs to be purged.
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