If a thousand dollar car was truly worth a damn, then why would anybody ever spend ten grand?

Today's title/lyric comes from the only song I know of from the band The Bottle Rockets, a song called Thousand Dollar Car. To see what the band has done besides this song check their myspace page out by clicking the title.

Well I am in a mechanics shop.
Because "The Ghetto Sled" as I affectionately call my car is temprairly dead.
That alone is bad enough, but here are the other factors determining my mood at the present hour:

This morning, for no good reason, my cable went out and then I realized (the hard way) that I was out of toilet paper. After a neccessary shower I took off for Wal-mart to get The Ghetto Sled's oil changed. I pulled into Tire and Lube Express and shut my car off, got to the door and realized I didn't have my debit card or any cash. So I went to start my car again and it wouldn't turn over. Diagnosis after two consultants and towing: dead battery!

I had to have a friend pick me up and take me home to get my debit card, then I had my car towed to a garage (because we thought it was the starter), where I was ushered into the waiting room where Spiderman 2 is playing. Many of you know how I feel about that and for those of you who don't...ever had your fingers smashed by a heavy mallet? That's what watching this schlock is like for me. Intensely painful in waves followed by questions of why between bursts.

Anyway, tomorrow I leave for San Diego for a convention, which was gonna be awesome, but I'll have spent most of my budget for that trip by the time I leave here today, because even though it's just a battery I'll have to pay for the towing, labor, battery, oil change, and transmission flush they've hooked me up with; estimated to be $375 in all at this point.

When I leave here I have at least 3 hours of work to do in the hour I will have available, this infernal movie will be trapped in my head for the rest of the day, and I need to do laundry still and clean my apartment in the remainder of a day which has gotten away from me. I fly out at noon tomorrow, but need another day. Is that possible?

Anyway, it is times like this that I think of my Uncle Dan's love of the song It's A Great Day To Whoop Somebody's Ass by Paul Thorn. Here are the lyrics.

It's A Great Day To Whoop Somebody's Ass

Have you ever had
One of those days
When nothing goes right?
You're wife starts bitching about
Whatever it was
She was bitching about
Last night.
So you escape into the bathroom
Just to sit there on your throne,
But after you finish your business
The toilet paper's gone.
Well it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass
It's a bad day
So you better get off my back
You might get cold-cocked
If you cross my path
Cause it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass
Well I was running late for work
So I poured me some coffee to go
And just before I had a flat tire
I spilled it all over my clothes
When the highway patrolman pulled up
I thought that help was on the way
But when he saw the tire tool in my hand
He shot me with pepper spray
Well it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass
It's a bad day
So you better get off my back
You might get cold-cocked
If you cross my path
Cause it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass.
When I finally made it to work
I was 15 minutes late
I told my boss about the flat tire
But he fired me anyway.
So here I am out in the parking lot
Just waiting by his Corvette,
I'm gonna' give him a goodbye present
That he never will forget.
Well it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass
It's a bad day
So you better get off my back
You might get cold-cocked
If you cross my path
Cause it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass

So glad there's a redneck side of me...
it helps me cope.