mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Running Makes Me Thick!" A year and a half of living next to me, and that's the extent of Spanish-Speaking Neighbor's English. But she's learned other neat American phrases from her Spanish-speaking friends, like "Give me headache, give me headache," and "Oh my loya." The six year-old then shoots back, frighteningly defiant for a six year-old, "No, mother! It's 'Oh my LORD.'" Gawd, I'm going to miss that family when they leave. I meant to update last night, because I really had a lot to write about. But since I didn't, you will get the dribbles of all I remember from yesterday... I got out of bed yesterday morning at 4:30. I showered, shaved, dressed, ate breakfast, and kind-of plopped into my car not unlike I plopped into bed the previous night. Keep in mind all of these activities are done with my eyes half shut. I put the key in the ignition, and I turned it like one does when one wishes to crank their car. And I heard.... Rrrrraaaaaaa-ump I looked at my clock. It blinked 12:00. My radio was on 87.7, factory settings. Surely I was dreaming. So, I opened my eyes widely. Rrrrraaaaa-ump This time, it sounded more like it had the flu: congested, pissed off, and a little afraid of death. My battery is now singing with the angels in the Great Battery Beyond. But at 5:00 in the morning, one doesn't think of all of the different options one has when confronting a dead car battery. So, I sat there, thinking of all I could possibly do, while keeping my key turned to "crank" position. Pretty soon, the Rrrrrraaaa-umps got closer and closer together. And by the grace of what I can only conclude was God, my car engine turned over, its very last breath with me, its J-Dawg. I got someone to jump me at work, and I headed straight to Sams to get a new battery. I have now come to the conclusion that Sam's is really an acronym for: Salespeople with the It took me about 20 minutes in line to get to the counter. Had there been a lot of people in front of me, I would have understood better. But nope. Just one person. They were waiting for a guy to come back with printer paper for the cash register. After he fetched the paper, he must have stopped to make a detour to France or something. That, or smoke a lot of crack. Because when he got back, it took him five minutes -- I timed it -- to figure out how to put the paper in the machine. When he finally got around to asking me what I needed, I told him that I needed a battery. I told him my car make and model and whatever else information he needed. He goes to the battery rack and said, "This here's the bat'ry yew need." As soon as he picked it up, he then decided he would give it the old "See if it passes durability test" test. He dropped it. And it went kersplat. Just like that: KERSPLAT! Thankfully, I decided while watching him with the printer that I should keep at least a 10-foot buffer around this guy. So, all of the battery acid that shot around Numbnut didn't splatter on me. As far as I can tell. Last night, I thought I should push holes in my shoes so Sam's could buy me a new pair. But that would be awefully ghetto of me, and I am above that. But I am not above writing New Balance and telling them how crappy I think their shoes are. I bought a pair of running shoes from them on May 12. By June 1, the soles were coming off. So, I took them back and they gave me another pair. Once again, the soles are off. I superglued them a couple of weeks ago, and it looks like that will have to be a regular thing to do. So, the moral of my whole battery story is this: Don't buy New Balance. They suck. While at Sam's, though, I got into some trouble. I bought a cell phone. I should be perminently barred from entering Sam's. The cell phones were free, and the service charge was waived. All I have to do is pay $30 a month for the next two years. Which I am not going to do. Don't worry, I have a plan. I will pay $50 a paycheck for 14 paycheks. I get paid twice a month, so that is seven months. This way, I won't have to worry about bills for Pure genius, ain't I? Let me get used to how it works first, then I will post my cell phone number for you all to call me when you are all alone. I just want to look kewl when driving down the road. I went to my recruiter this morning after giving plasma for the Red Cross. I went to the recruiter after I gave plasma so I would weigh about a pound or so less than I would have had I gone before. I am now at 191! I started out at around 214. That's 23 pounds, hoss! Twelve more pounds, and I will be at my goal. It is exciting to be close to weighing what I weighed when I first moved up here. No more living with girlfriends. That chubs you quicker than Bill Clinton on a morning jog. Ha! Remember that from ten years ago? The lying bastard would take a morning jog and would somehow always end up at the McDonalds. I don't like the guy, but that is my idea of running. Well, I am off. I am about to go eat. I am going to a place that serves Middle-Eastern fare called -- and I'm not joking -- "Osama's." The place has gotten defaced twice since 9/11, but I feel sorry for the owner. I've met him. He remembers my name every time I go in. Real great guy. I feel bad that he chose such a name for a restaurant before all of the 9/11. He doesn't deserve the crap he gets. So, to show my support, I will go eat there. And since I am bad about ending diaries, I will just say, "Bye!" 2:04 p.m. - Wed., July 31, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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