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' anada "Jason on Christmas Again" 13 jan '
' 258 by Jason 2001 '
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God, I hate Christmas.
No sooner do I go about singing its praises than I get screwed right
up the poop chute. Granted, the events that unfolded were not really the
holiday's fault, but because of the temporal coincidence, Christmas gets
some of the periphery blame.
Christmas itself wasn't so bad, if you discount the 5 hour drive to
Pittsburgh from PhilaHELLphia. My evil mother insisted that I drive with my
brother. That ended up being a bit of a boon, since he kept me company and
took care of the tolls. All in all the holiday went by pretty smoothly. I
did all of the typical things like visiting the grandparents, hanging out
with old college friends, and drinking.
I also took advantage of the cold to investigate an abandoned mine
near my grandparents' house. I had long wanted to check it out, but had
been vexed by the four inches of water on the floor. Through the miracle of
crystallization, that normally liquid dihydrogen-oxide had achieved a solid
state. Naturally, my parents would never have approved of such an endeavor.
When they inquired as to what devious machinations required a flashlight, I
replied merely that we were up to "something completely wholesome." When
pressed, I muttered something about group anal sex. Oddly, I got away with
that. The mine was cool, I guess. No human skeletons, though.
So the rest of the holiday went well enough, and on Christmas day we
began the journey back.
Now some background is in order. I currently drive a 1993 Ford Tempo
with 109,000 miles on it. It has been pretty reliable, but I had plans to
replace it with a new vehicle by April at the latest. While I had the
vehicle, I never had any major malfunctions. All that changed on Christmas
Day.
About halfway through the trip, the AMP warning light came on. I
dutifully pulled over and popped the hood, but the AMP light went off by
itself. "Whatever," I thought. "The car is so old, it probably has
ghosts."
We were within a half hour of home when it stalled at a traffic
light. It NEVER does that. Then it made a hideous shrieking noise and
smoke that stank of burning rubber filled the interior. I quickly pulled
into a Wawa and popped the hood again, discovering that the fan belt was
gone. What fun.
There's no joy that equals being stuck in 18 degree weather (that's
-27.8 degrees in that creepy scale known widely as Centigrate), miles from
home, on freakin' CHRISTMAS DAY!! Thank Christ's foreskin for AAA! Getting
home was actually pretty simple, but stressful. Then my evil brother takes
a shit in MY bathroom and stinks up the whole apartment for a half hour.
That's the last time I allow him to evacuate his rancid bowels in my
habitation.
Then today I got another late Christmas present. I get my car towed
to the local mechanic and get a fix-it bill for $500! Egad! Did I get
ripped off? Probably. They claimed that my whole alternator was shot...
probably with the help of a few well-placed hammer blows. I also missed a
day of work, and I'm about 2 weeks shy of having any sick days.
So it comes down to this: the car I'm getting rid of in just a few
months costs me half a grand and a day's pay from a job in which I'm less
than a month away from earning sick days. Of course this all has to happen
on Christmas Day. It could have been worse, sure. It could have broken
down in the middle of the state, an area which is exceedingly rural, and
ended up with the "Deliverance Christmas Special." It could have been
worse, but it still sucked as it was.
So what's the moral of this story? Just because it's Christmas
doesn't mean the universe won't pass up the opportunity to kick you in the
teeth.
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` anada258 by Jason (c) 2001 anada e'zine `