Say Something Funny...B*tch

Okay, I realize before I begin that I have little room to complain due to the fact that I have yet to be plagued with car issues until this week.  However, now I’m in the club of shitty car issues (and Welcome to the club indeed!) and so I feel that venting is perfectly appropriate.  There is nothing that can sour your damn day faster than car problems.  Am I right? Can I get an Amen? Betta Recognize!

Also, is it just me or does it seem as though car issues seem to have a sort of snowball effect.  It’s never just one thing….it’s never ever just ‘fixed’.  There’s always some freakin complication to make my existence more hellish than a day at my retail job in the mall has already made it!

Day 1 – Car on the fritz.  While I know as much about cars as Whitney Houston knew about sobriety (too soon?) I knew that something was amiss.  I told the hubs that he needed to take it to a mechanic the next day.  Yes people, I defer car issues to my man.  Why?  Cause at some point in our lives I’m going to have to push our spawn through my lady bits, that’s why.

Day 2 – Leaving for an audition.  Car doesn’t start.  Hubs did not take it in when I told him.  Am I always right?  I’m always right!!  So, I take our runner up car and he promises to fix broken car.  He gets our friends to come over in order to jump broken car. Would you believe it….broken car starts right the f*ck up!  No jump needed!! WHAT????  I had an audition broken car!!  Granted, for a non paying gig..but still! 

Day 3-4 – Car is being fixed.  They say it needs spark plugs but the battery is okay.  I have no idea what a spark plug does.  Still don’t. I didn’t even Wikipedia to find out.

Day 5 – Car place finally fixes the car. $300 bones!! Hubs goes to pick it up.  Car place says that the battery isn’t holding a charge now and that it needs a new battery.  Hubs b*tches and moans and car place gives him a battery for free.  I swear to all things holy, I have never been more attracted to that man as I was in that moment.  Confrontation, FREE battery…club me over the head and take me back to our cave, oh wonderful man of mine!!

Day 6- Drive fixed up car to work.  It’s a lovely 5 minute ride.  Cut to 9 hours later.  I come out to my car…start it…try to start it up.  Not happening.  Not only is it not happening but the hazards are turning on and off, the doors are locking by themselves, and the lights are turning on and off.  Not only will my car not work but it is also now possessed and doing some crazy Linda Blair sh*t. I then walk a few blocks in the friggity freezing cold and my roommate meets me and picks me up.  Thank heaven for that angel and thank heaven for the Gentleman Jack I had a glass of when I got home.

Day FREAKING 7 -  I failed to mention where my car was parked when it didn’t start…a mall parking garage….the HARDEST PLACE FROM WHICH TO TOW A CAR! I call this guy…he brings a tiny truck…hooks my car up..and in the process locks the keys in it.  When he finally gets the car to the body shop, which is like 30 miles away (thanks for that, hubs) the grand total is $260! Dear Lord just punch me in the boob and shave my head why don’t you! So…now it sits…waiting to be fixed.  

It’s been a pain in the bum and I’ve gotten just a smidge depressed about the whole situation.  I feel like I’m in an episode of Quantum Leap where everything is going wrong and Sam just wants to fix the problem and try to leap home.  If you don’t get that reference…stab yourself in the eye with a butter knife and then..once you’ve stopped bleeding…Netflix that sh*t. 

I am now, drowning my sorrows in a bottle of champagne…why you ask…cause I’m a playa pimp and I roll like one…that’s why!!  I hope that none of you are plagued by car bullsh*t but if you are..please know…you are not alone..I am here with you…though we’re far apart…you’re always in my heart…10 points if you know that song.  5 trillion points if you started singing it as you read it.

The Art of B*tching: ‘Poop’ by Rebekah Tripp

That’s right, literally, sh*t.  I find that when I feel I’ve nothing to b*tch about, I need only look at the world directly around me and BOOM…right in the face—-a subject hits me…not poop.

We all know, as I will scream from every roof top, that I am a cat person.  There are some folks that are vehement cat people.  I’m fairly easy going in the whole cat/dog, ‘which is better’ war.  I love my cat, I think cats rock but I understand that it depends on your personality whether you’re a cat or dog person.  However, if you want to start a battle with me and argue that dogs are better than cats, it’s on like Donkey Kong, Motherf*cker.  Okay….let me wind myself down…back to topic. There are other folks who are dog people.  That’s cool.  However, being dog people, these folks must realize that there are certain responsibilities that come with taking care of an animal that is less self sufficient and less intelligent than a cat.

Let’s cut the poop, we’re talking potty time folks.  It’s not my fault that you have an animal that you need to take out of doors in order for it to do it’s pee/poop business.  You knew that was the case when you signed on to the deal.  Am I right? Yes. Always.  So, if that’s the case, if you knew the score and it was..you take your happy ass outside with your dog so it can take a crap, then you also must have surmised that taking a dog out to poop is like being in some historic outdoor forest…you take the poop with you.  No leave behinds.  I think, on the whole, there are a great many folks that understand this rule, and yes, it is a freakin rule.  So WHY….WHY does poop keep showing up on my lawn.  I know it’s not my neighbors.  How do I know?  Because I freakin watch them, okay??!!  Cause I’m gonna solve this puzzle faster than Tom Hanks in Da Vinci Code and you don’t solve puzzles by sitting idly by!!  You have to investigate.  This mystery is called, the Case of the Dumb Sh*t (this title has multiple meanings).

Stay tuned folks.  I will be back to report my findings.  In the meantime, if you’re a dog person, fine…so you have issues of co dependency..no big deal, you’re a caretaker…STILL….if you don’t pick up after your precious pup’s *ss droppings…and you have the misfortune of running into me…there will be problems.  Your dog didn’t make art for the world to see, you’re dog took a deuce…now take that plastic bag out of your pocket and go pick it up while it’s still warm. Thanks.

Read more of Rebekah’s sweet verbage here: http://saysomethingfunnybitch.tumblr.com/rebekahtripp