Oh Teh Dramaness!!

Oh it's been a Monday ya'll. Let's tackle my car drama, shall we?

So Mr. Superbreeder who lives out in the boonies with his numerous youngins and umpteengillion grand youngins asked how much I wanted for my car. I told him it was his lucky day, I'd lowered the price to just $900.

"Okay but, how much wouldya take fer it, cash right now today," he asks. $900 was my "cash right now today" price, but I needed rid of it, so I told him I'd take $700 for it. Mr. Superbreeder, all 4 feet 11.5 inches of him, proceeds to explain how his youngin, Juniorbreeder, had totalled his on Friday and he needed a vehicle. He said, "I've only got $500 and you're not going to get more than that for it anyway. The longer it sits thar in the yard the less you're gonna get."

This kinda ticked me off and I really wanted to tell Mr. Superbreeder to forget it, I don't like wheeling and dealing, in spite of my distant Gypsy ancestors. I held firm at $700 and he assured me he'd be over "after while."

In the mean time, I went outside to get my junk out of my little neglected Protege'. The fact that I filled a garbage bag with dry rotted seat covers, empty cigarette packs and enough Diet Coke bottles to push global warming ahead 4 years forced me to rethink my offer. The car was nasty, inside and out and I really didn't want to deal with cleaning it up.

Mr. Superbreeder didn't show when he said he would, so I gave up on him, took off my bra and set to taking care of assorted hygenic duties. Imagine my absolute fricken GLEE as I sat, my face contorted up under the lamp, inches from the uber magnified side of the mirror, plucking chin hairs, when I heard a knock at the door.

Dammit all to hell.

My chin, neck.... area... was aflame, much like the ass end of a baboon, ripe for mating. I tried to wrangle my unrestrained bodacious tattas with my free arm as I opened the front door, looking out to see the dirtied face and snaggle toothed grin of Mr. Superbreeder.

Great.

I slipped on the pink flip flops that I'd picked up at the dollar store... for a dollar... and waddled out to the yard, looking like true trailer trash hell. I hadn't had a shower yet either, I felt like a glazed ham and hoped I didn't smell like one.

We shmoozed for a minute or two and he checked it over. I appologized for the nastiness of the car and told him I'd thought about it and I'd be willing to sell it for $500. Mr Superbreeder puffed his chest out all proud as he explained to me that he had the money, that was no problem, but he needed to think about it.

I was like... yeah whatever.

So today I go home for lunch and the Amazon informs me that Mr. Superbreeder had called. He wanted her to tell me that he'd had to buy a dryer this morning, so he only had $350 and, afterall, I probably couldn't get $500 for it from anyone anyway.

I'm sorry.. what? He wants to give me $350 for the car that I asked $900 for yesterday?

Excuse me but... hell to the no and back again.

He ended up calling back a few minutes later, when I informed him that I had to have at least $500 for the car. He pissed and moaned around some, then said he was going to try to go borrow the other $150.

I hope he doesn't get it. I have NO clue where the flippen title is.