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.