At SireBoned, the desk guy was your stereotypical southern man of color who prefers the company of other men. And he played fabulous.... fabulously. As I relayed the story of my near death trauma, he threw his hands up in the air, exclaiming “Jesus Christmas!!!!” He shook his head, hands on hips and emitting lots of “MMMM mmm mmms” and Oh my GAW-UDs!” When I told him about the little hussy who flipped me off, he freaked.. backed away from the counter, waving his hand in the air and saying, “Oh NO she dint!” Then he did the classic Diana-Ross-Stop-In-The-Name-Of-Love hand gesture and said, “I am at work and I have to WATCH what I say but... OH MY GAW-UD! No.. You are probably good Christian people and I am the debbil, so I just won't say it.. but... (hanging his head and shaking it in disbelief) MMMM, mmm, mmm, mmm.”
I love him.
But then he left and I had to deal with Manuel. Manuel was charming, not bad looking and the type that made my bullshit shields go up immediately. After the “courtesy check” of my brakes, which` took like an hour, Manuel told me it was going to be $486 to fix my brakes. The wrecker driver seemed to think it was going to be less than $100. I was suspicious. He then explained that they'd have to remove the gas tank.. blah blah blah. I was freakin'. I looked at him, explained that all my cards were maxed out, I only had $100 in my savings.. and Manuel was all, “Hey! You can apply for a SireBoned account!!!”
Because I really need one more payment every month.
Of course I was denied, which was evident to everyone in the whole lobby. SireBoned really needs to work on their customer's privacy.
Anywho, I was pretty much screwed. It would cost another $100 to tow Jolene back to the holler and even then I didn't know who was going to fix her. I told him just to hold off until the next day so I could see if I could come up with some money and left with The Amazon.
My nerves were pretty much clusterfucked. I worried what would have happened if I'd been heading down the mountain or on the expressway. I wrung my hands over where the hell I was going to cough up that kind of money.. yet I had T.A. take me to the grocery store. We still had to eat, right?
At the organic, non-GMO grocer, I looked over the weight loss supplements but I couldn't find anything with the combination of stop-me-from-eating-like-a-crazy-person supplements that I'd been looking for. I eventually ended up grabbing a bottle of magnesium, some zinc and a combo of B vitamins. When I got to the checkout, the valley girl cashier informed me that they'd just started a vitamin thingie that gives you $10 off your tenth bottle when you've bought 9 costing at least $5 each.
Okay so.. it wasn't going to make up for the ass load of cash I needed to fix Jolene, but it was something.
I didn't sleep much that night. T.A. was out visiting Boy Wonder, leaving me home alone with the animals and an anxiety filled head.
The next morning I checked my bank account, did some quick shuffling and discovered that if I skipped the truck payment, I could scratch up enough to get it fixed. It was around then that Manuel called. He wanted to know if it was okay to go ahead and fix Jolene.. and to tell me that upon further inspection it was going to be more like $566 to get her fixed.
W. T. F.
I think I said something to the effect of “Well you've got my ass over a barrel, just fix the damned thing.”
Which made Manuel a happy man.
Me? Not so much.
But Jolene is fixed. Well.. the brakes are. She's going ghetto hillbilly fast. Since her overnight stay at SireBoned, my speedometer now reads 50mph at a dead stop and I have to use tweezers to change CDs. Oh yeah and there's a dent where I hit The Amazon's wrecked Blazer that's been sitting in the yard for like six months.
Anywho... I went to the doc Friday for more fun and games and I had a visit from Long Lost Daughter and the grandbabies last weekend. I'll give you the latest on those adventures in a day or two. For now, I think I'm going to go play on the innerwebs.
Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.