Posted By Russ Emerson on December 23, 2006 at 4:28 pm
On Christmas shopping:
So how do I do it in 45 minutes? It’s all thanks to a little wonder drug I like to call testosterone. Or, more likely, it’s the relative absense of estrogen, which poisons the mind and causes people to wander in random directions in malls and on highways. A woman thinks, “I need to decide what to buy, so I’ll go to the mall and shuffle around at two miles an hour until I bump into something appropriate.” A man thinks, “I need to buy A. I can find it at store B. If I go at hour C, the crowds will be light. Then I will be able to get home early and view midget porn DVD D.”
Steve H. of Hog on Ice, who is, I’m fairly sure, only kidding about the midget porn.
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Posted By Russ Emerson on December 18, 2006 at 3:59 am
Today, Monday, my new (new to me — it’s an ’03 Dodge Ram quad cab) truck arrives here from California, driven by my ever-so-wonderful sister-in-law. My ever-so-wonderful lead-footed drive-across-a-continent-in-three-days sister-in-law, accompanied by my multi-talented nephew.
But I think my old ’93 Chevy Blazer (the full size model renamed “Tahoe” in ’94), which I’ve driven since ’96, may have figured out that it is about to be replaced.
I got off work tonight a little after midnight, as usual, and on the way home stopped, as sort-of-usual, at the 24×7 grocery store to pick up a couple of things. Kitty treats, mainly, to appease Mycah.
Finished with the shopping, I got into the truck, turned the key… and nothing. The dash lights came on, but there was no cranking. The starter was dead. Obviously, the Blazer has decided not to go without a fight.
After an hour of phoning tow truck companies in an unsuccessful quest to find a 24×7 mechanic, in desperation I called the local police admin number, where an exceptionally helpful and friendly young lady named Alicia gave me the number of the tow company they use. The tow truck eventually arrived, and five minutes after that I was on my way, and got home a mere two hours later than I had hoped.
The starter will probably have to be replaced before I can sell the Blazer. I was really hoping after last week that I had taken it for its last repair.
I’ve never named any vehicle I’ve owned, but it’s not too late for the Blazer. Inspired by Herman Melville’s Moby Dick,
“To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee; For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee,”
the Blazer is now “Khan.”
But I still blame the cat for the brake failure.
I wonder what time Alicia gets off of work?
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