I miss my car.

June 17th, my car stopped working. The car I bought only 18 months ago, stopped working. Freaking out, Mr J and I rushed it over to the dealership, to find out if it was still under warranty. If it wasn't, I was screwed. I'd have to rob a bank to cover the costs of fixing it; and if the cop dramas on TV have taught me anything, I would get caught. I'd spend several years in jail until I was released. At that time my credit would be shot, I would never be able to find a decent employer willing to hire a felon. I'd be stuck living in a ratty old trailer with a butch, German, chain smoking lesbian who likes to put her cigarettes out on my forehead.

It was under warranty.

The dealership's repair techs looked over my car and couldn't find the problem without taking it apart. However my warranty doesn't cover taking my car apart just to investigate a problem. We were assured that just taking it apart to look for the issue would only cost $60, and it was incredibly likely that whatever problem they couldn't find would be under the warranty. Mr J and I talked, and decided to let them go for it. After all, the car wasn't running, taking it apart wasn't going to make it run any worse.

In my car they found rat nests. Rat nest-s.

Rats had chewed through wires. Wires that were connected to the dashboard sensors. The sensors that make the lights go on on to let you know "Hey, your oil is low!" Or, "I could sure go for some transmission fluid." Or, "Were you aware that your airbag isn't working?" Rats are not covered in my warranty.

As horrible as all that was, that wasn't reason enough for my car to stop running. They finally found the problem on Thursday, the 19th. Last time I got my oil changed, I went to a chain that specializes in doing all the work in a jiffy. (Now I'm not saying that it was Jiffy Lube.) When they changed my oil, they changed my air filter, like they should. However, when they replaced the cover for my air filter, they pinched a wire. This wire was pinched under the cover where it rubbed and wore down the insulation around the wire. Suddenly there is a naked wire in my engine. And my modest car just can't handle that. Not Jiffy Lube's inadequacy's aren't covered in my warranty either.

It's been 14 days since my car had it's nervous breakdown. And the car shop has ordered the wrong part twice and the only tech who can work on my car has called in sick several times.

Luckily ridiculously long periods of waiting is covered by my warranty.

Share the computer dude!

I have been trying to write yesterday's post for over a week! Please blame my lack of posting on Mr. J's increasing addiction to World of Warcraft.

Bruce

I have a tattoo.

No, not that kind. It's a tattoo of Bruce Campbell's signature. A few years ago when I met him at a book signing he signed my chest and I got it tattooed. I love it, because it helps me figure out what type of movie watcher a person is.

"What's your tattoo of?"

"It's Bruce Campbell's signature."

"Who's that?"

Sigh, "Have you ever seen the Evil Dead movies?"

"Huh?"

"Brisco County Jr?"

"No."

"Xena? Hercules? Jack of All Trades? Burn Notice?"

"Nope."

Crap... I did not want to have to pull this "The Spider-Man movies?"

"Oh yeah! Who was he in that?"

Sigh, "In the first one, he was the wrestling ring announcer who gave Spider-Man his name. In the second one, he was he theater usher who wouldn't let Peter into the theater to see Mary Jane's play. And in the third one, he was the maitre d in the restaurant where Peter proposes to Mary Jane."

This is where the true test is. If the person in question nods, and shuts up, realizing that they just don't understand the ways of Bruce yet, we can still be friends. But if the person then says, "Why would you get an extra's signature tattooed?" It's over.

Bruce Campbell may never be a mainstream celebrity. But he's never given up on being an actor. He's made some great movies, and he's made some horrible (really horrible) movies, but he's always working. He's never given up, and that's why I have his signature permanently on my chest.

Don't call me!

Some of my distant family members have come to visit my immediate family members this week.....

Which means I suddenly have to leave town on a business trip.

No, really, don't call my office, I won't be there.

And the girl who's taking all my calls thinks it's funny to answer the phone with my name. But it's not me.

I'm out of town. Out of state. In fact, I'm in a business meeting with Martians. I could be gone a while.

Happy Birthday Tetris!

Tetris is celebrating 25 years of Awesomeness!

So I give you my tribute to Tetris.

Why I hate ducks.

Just moments ago, I schedule myself for a pap smear. 

I will now wait while all the men reading this scream "EWWWW" and navigate away from my blog forever. I'll miss you. (But I'll try to not write about such grossness again for a while.)

The thing I absolutely hate about these appointments, is that I am paying someone to stick things in me that I don't want stuck up inside me. It's NOT CONSENSUAL. I'm paying for violation. The perky woman at the appointment desk may as well ask, "Would you like to raped in the morning, or the afternoon?"

But it's better than cancer, so ladies, schedule your yearly check up!

Let's make a baby!!!

Just an hour ago, I told Mr J that I want to have a baby. This is something we've talked about before. I think every couple has had the "Should we have kids someday?" conversation. Every other time we've talked about it, I've said "No way." And he's said, "Just think about it, okay?"

Not this time. This time I said, "Let's have a baby!"

He said, "Huh? What started this line of thought?"

I said, "Because I'm sick of going to work, I want to be a stay-at-home mom!"

He said, "........ uh....."

I said, "Plus, I hate these monthly cramps. I can't wait for the 9 month relief."

He said, "No way. You're just delusional from all the Midol you've been taking."

Yes, yes I am delusional. More chocolate please!