That's what I get for paying off my car loan.

(First off, I need to preface this story by saying THIS IS NOT AN AD FOR KMART! I was not paid to write this, I was not given free products, I was not compensated in any shape or form whatsoever. In fact, I'm not even going to say Kmart again in this post.)

A certain gorgeous celebrity recently launched a clothing line at S-mart. (You know the slogan, "Shop Smart, Shop S-Mart.) They're adorned by shotgun patterns, and the occasional chainsaw. I had heard about the clothing line, it's weapon theme, and decided to check out the clothes online.  They're tough, slightly violent, and oh my gawd hot! One pair of jeans in particular caught my eye. I needed them, wanted, lusted for, hell I coveted the sin out of those jeans. So earlier today, I decided to go to S-mart and buy them.

However, I only knew the location of one S-mart here in Albuquerque, and I hadn't been in that part of town for years. I was more than a little shaky about it's exact location. There were roughly five intersections I thought it might be. And they were all relatively close to each other. I hopped in my car, and started looking for the store.

First intersection? No S-mart
Second intersection? No S-mart
Third intersection? No S-mart
Nearing the forth intersection.... What the hell is that sound? Is that coming from MY car? Is that my engine scraping along the asphalt?

Unfortunately, yes, that sound was coming from my car. But no, that scraping noise wasn't my engine. I have no idea what it was. Some metal thing that's suppose to be bolted to and covering some moving part to prevent it from being broken by rocks. Is that an under carriage? Why can't I think of the words "under carriage" without immediately thinking of testicles? All I know, from pulling over and crawling under my car, is that it's suppose to be held up by four bolts. It was only being held up by one.

Now, covered in engine grease and dirt, I decide that S-mart is not happening today. Even if I found it, as if driving around with a sparking car was a good idea, I wouldn't want to try on the jeans with my hands covered in black muck. I don't know if that sludge is even going to wash out of the old crappy jeans I was wearing. I wasn't going to risk it on a pair of new, sexy, gun-slingin' jeans.

I pulled the car in the opposite direction and headed home. I got about 15 feet when the mystery piece of metal fell off. NOTHING has ever made me feel more like trash, than having to pull over again, and walk in the middle of the busy road to pick up a piece of my car. I've lived in trailers, I've eaten possum, there have been times when I couldn't afford to shop at even the local .99 cent store. I seriously thought about leaving that hunk of metal in the middle of the honking cars. But no, I don't want Al Gore to think that I don't care about the planet. I humiliated myself, played human Frogger through traffic, picked up my litter, and threw it in the trunk of my car.

The most annoying thing, however, was that on my way home, I saw a BRAND NEW S-mart just a few blocks away from my house.

But he accepts my insurance!

Text conversation I had with a friend (who will go unnamed, as she has kids who would be horribly embarrassed)

Jane: Is it a bad sign when your doctor prescribes you a medication only stocked by a pharmacy in the non-English speaking side of town?

Friend: What?!

Jane: I think I'm taking meds made out of donkey sperm.

Friend: Oh my god! Hahahahahahaha! I almost peed myself, that was so funny.

Jane: Good, I've been trying to make you pee yourself for years. Someday. It'll happen someday. I'm hoping it'll be because I made you laugh that hard. But it could be fear related. You never know, and I don't want to commit myself to a plan.

Friend: Gotcha.

Jane: The pharmacist just came out to tell me that my handwriting is amazing. Apparently his hobby is analyzing handwriting, and mine shows that I am quite the artist.

Friend: Do not take those donkey pills.

Jane: But they were prescribed. By a Doctor. I can't not take them when a doctor told me to. Even if they are just capsules filled with donkey semen.

Friend: Find a new doctor.

Mr J would look stupid in a mustache anyway...

Not a Dodge Charger

Mr J's been thinking about buying a new car. I don't know if he's actually planning on purchasing a vehicle, or if he just enjoys looking at car stats online. Either way, he's been talking a lot about the Dodge Charger.

I don't even know what one looks like, but I've been told it's suppose to be quite the pimpin' car.

The other day, I pointed out, what I thought was a "pimpin'" car. "Is that a Dodge Charger?" I asked.
"No, that's a Dodge Magnum." Mr J informed me.

I told him, "You should get that, it looks cool."

Mr J disagreed, "I can't get that. It's a station wagon. We're not driving to Wally World with Audrey and Rusty."

"Vacation reference, nice touch. But really, you should get the Magnum. You can tell people you like your cars like you like your condoms!" I persuaded.

Mr J just looked at me, like people weren't going to fall for that.

So I told him, "It'll be great! You buy the Magnum, grow a mustache, start wearing Hawaiian shirts, solving mysteries and next thing you know you'll have a helicopter!"

"Hmmm... Wait! That's Magnum, P.I. I'm not going to reenact Magnum, P.I. Plus he didn't even get to fly the helicopter. That was T.C." He was so thrilled to be able to prove me wrong.

"Sorry, I guess it's been too long since I've since that bit on Robot Chicken." I conceded.

"What?"

"Yeah, I've never seen Magnum, P.I. But I did see the sketch they did on Robot Chicken about the show."

"How have you never seen Magnum, P.I.? What's wrong with you?" Mr J was incensed.

"Uh... I'm 8 years younger than you. It stopped airing when I was 4."

So I looked it up. It actually stopped airing when I was 2. We're not getting that car.

Here's that Robot Chicken sketch.

My car has a micro penis... or a super big clitoris.

Wash me!

About two weeks ago, I found a Nerf Dart under my car. I figured it belonged to one of the neighbor's children. I know how much it totally sucks to lose a toy, so like always, when I find a lost toy, I move it to somewhere I think the kid will be able to spot it easily. At my last apartment, I would put the toy on the steps leading up to the apartment building we all share, or dangling from a tree, two feet from the sidewalk, by a bright colorful ribbon. But since I've moved to a townhouse, I don't have a shared staircase or sidewalk. I have no idea where these kids live, just that they were playing around the parking lot. So I thought the logical spot would be to move the dart from beneath my car to on my car. Surely the child would see it next time they played, grab it and all would be right with the world. It's been almost two weeks. The dart's still there. And now I kinda like it. It's like my car has a belly button now, and it's an outie!

No, really, I lost three pounds...

Conversation I had with Mr J after working out, and after waiting for him to get out of the shower so I could shower:

Jane: I just weighed myself, and I lost 3 pounds!

Mr J: That's great hunny!

Jane: I LOST THREE POUNDS!!!

Mr J: Great job!

Jane: I LOST THREE POUNDS!!!!

Mr J: I heard you the first time! Go shower!

Jane: I LOST THREE POUNDS AND THERE'S A SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM!!!!

Mr J: What?!

Jane: I LOST THREE POUNDS AND THERE'S A SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM!!!!

Mr J: Where? Where is it? STOP SCREAMING!

Jane: On the shower curtain, kill it! I lost three pounds.

Mr J: (kills the spider and disposes of the corpse) There, go shower.

Jane: Are you aware that you showered with a spider?

Mr J: I am now.

Jane: Did he molest you? Show me on the doll where the spider touched you.

Mr J: Where did you get a doll? You didn't even leave the bathroom?!

Jane: I have dolls stashed all over the house for emergencies like this.

Mr J: What?

Jane: Quick deflecting. We need to call a specialist. You've just been violated by a spider, we need to get you into counselling immediately.

Mr J: (leaving the room) You're so lucky you're cute.

Jane: I LOST THREE POUNDS!