I have been a bit "AWOL" and rumors flew around the internet like panties at a VanHalen Concert. I had seriously awesome guest posters cover both blogs and now owe them most of my internal organs not ravaged by alcohol/stupidity or both ( note- I do not poses enough organs that meet the criteria so repayment will be based upon the amount of door to door salesmen that stumble by my house).
We all know I
avoid rarely go into public, because it's against my religion lawyers advice. Unfortunately in the last 15 days I have HAD to go into public a lot, like nearly every day. For things I didn't want anyway, so I was already all grouchy and stuff.
I noticed about day 3 that one of my tires was going low, I kept airing it up and trudging on. Around Day six, I decided I better get a new tire or I would end up in a ditch in deliverance country and have to chew my own leg off to survive and be haunted by banjo music.
Mistake 1- getting dressed and leaving the house to get tire fixed. It just pretty much went downhill from there.
I go to the tire shop and they give me an estimate. I remind them I would like the cheapest possible tire since they had a sign that said " we do not accept lap dances as payment".
I left for a couple hours and walked back. I handed them my credit card they swiped, I signed, walked out.
Walking to the car I look down at the little bitty crappy out of ink credit card recipet and my brain nearly shut down. $375? WTF? They said around $75. So I round my P.O.S. looking to see if I have all new tires, nope, in fact they didn't even put the hub cap thing back on the tire they replaced.
Steaming pissed and in total disbelief I climb into my crappy van with empty mc griddle wrappers and jam my freakin key in the ignition contimplating what the bail would be if I went back in there with a tire iron and had my bill adjusted.
I slam the POS into R.
OH HELL NO Y'ALL.
My freaking GPS is GONE.
Yes the one I lovingly call Dick Dick, and he returns by constantly telling me to "turn around" , "turn around", " turn around". The little electronic male co-Pilot that proudly proclaims, " you are at your destination" when I am in the middle of a field or on the top of a bridge.
THEY TOOK MY DICK DICK !!!!!!!!!!!!
Like a freaking steaming ranting Loony Toon I don't even know if I put the damn car back in park, but I bailed and and headed in the Tire Place like Bull with a bee in my bonnet.
Being the shrinking violet I am. I butted my way to the front of the line saying things like, "sorry, they owe me a kiss" or "excuse me but I have to get my panties back."
The guy at the counter see's me and my apparently has been in a relationship with an insane red head because as I neared the counter he took a deep breath and stepped back.
him- Can I help you?
me- Yeah you can kiss me since you fucked me.
me- oh yeah can I see your stapler?
him- uhm yes mama
me- now whose the SOB with the new GPS?
him- uhm mama? I uhm, let me get you a manager.
me- Yeah tell him to bring me my panties, k bitch?
Mangager- Mama is there a problem?
me- Dude I am about to go all fuckin wild eyed ass kicking up here, first you ass fuck me by charging me $375 for "A" TIRE? the blue book on that piece of shit isn't $375!!! Then as a wipe your dick on the curtains bonus one of your dudes steals my GPS.
Manager- why don't we go in the office.
me- why don't you just fuck me some more right here in front of all your customers pussy boy.
Manager- I am going to need you to calm down can I see your receipt?
me- I'm gonna need to shove this fucking stapler up some bodies ass, you have 5 seconds to pick the victim.
I ball up my reciept and throw it at him, take a step out the door and call my husband to prep him to get bail money.
He answers his WORK phone and I begin to scream in the phone the insane situation and that I am indeed going to go to jail but I am taking out a couple of these bitches on the way. They fucking charged us $375 for a tire and stole my DICK DICK!!!!!
He waits for me to finish my cussing ass fucking with a stapler need bail money tyraid. I finally take a breath and I hear multiple male snickers. Shit I'm on the fucking speaker?
Calmly says, " honey I am in a meeting but you do realize that you loaned your GPS to your friend in December when he was moving to Utah right?"
I walk back in the entire customer base is cowering like I am some masked bank robber and a couple of them are on board. When the manager points out that I was only charged $75 but due to their being low on ink ( not my poor eyesight) I had confused the $ with a 3.
I had nothing. Nothing but my quick thinking and tricks from blog land. So stealing a page from the queen of all excuses, PAM the BBF of Holly. I grabbed my forehead and loudly, "OMG my blood sugar, it's my blood sugar somebody get me a mint !" and collapsed into a chair.
I was offered a mint and a coke. I took 2 sips and said, " OMG I feel so much better wow. What happened? Holy cow, is my car ready? oh it is? thank you so much you have done a wonderful job."
Then I Tyra Banks style stomped throwing hips around like I was on the run way from the building to my waiting chariot of shame and sped off. Like a freaking Diva.
Yeah it's probably a really really good idea not to let me out in public much.
*Disclaimer*- no one actually got assfucked with a stapler. However I did make them chocolated dipped fruit, home made cookies, homemade bannana bread and delivered them with a letter of apology, which I signed with a fake name.