My mom called me the other day and told me she needed me to get on that email or internet or whatever and fax a letter to Pontiac for her. I sighed slightly, since she is always needing me to write something or cook something or look something up (frustrating as she has a computer), but hey – she does a lot for me, so I asked what she needed.
Apparently, a few days ago, she came out of work and tried to unlock her car. She has a new car, but it doesn’t have the auto-locks – just a key. Anyway, she turned the key in the lock and it stripped. Needless to say, she was frustrated, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it just then. So she went around to the passenger door to unlock it from that side and ther5e was no lock! The only key “hole” (I’m big on technical terms, here) is on the driver’s door. What the fuck??
So here is my mother, at night, in the mall parking lot, wondering how the holy hell she’s going to get in her car. It ended up that she climbed (in full on dress clothes and giant high heels) into the trunk and pushed down the rear seat backs, then shimmied into the front seat to get out, close the trunk and get back in. So now she’s pissed off. I don’t blame her, but I really don’t think the car companies give a shit. From what I have been learning, more and more car manufacturers are eliminating the passenger side key hole, and some, even the trunk key hole. This seems kind of stupid if you ask me.
So now – until she can get the broken lock fixed (likely costing her roughly eleventy billion dollars) she either has to leave the door unlocked or climb ass over teakettle into the trunk every time she gets in the car. That’s like deciding between GW Bush and GHW Bush.
Last night, we were watching Lost and the girl comes strolling through, glances at the TV, sees Sayid and does a double-take. The she smiles and says, “He’s cuuuute!”
Yep – she my girl, alright
In other four-year-old boy crazy news, we were watching Spiderman III this weekend and during the scene where MJ kisses Harry, she says, “Ewwwww…I don’t want her kissing HIM……….but he’s cute
I went into the Hallmark store on Wednesday to pick out cards for mr b and the kids, and I was loking around for something cute and chocolate to give them and this employee comes running up to me, all chipper:
“Hiiiiiiiiii! Welcome to Hallmark!!! (in my head, all those I-s were dotted with smiley faces and/or flowers)”
“Can I help you with something?”
“I can hekp you find anything!!! What can I help you find???”
“Are you looking for anything in particular? I can help you!!!”
“No – I’m just getting some cards (I hold them up)”
“OK, I’ll check you out then.”
“No thanks, I’m still looking.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I’m not sure – I’m just looking.”
“Who are you shopping for?”
“Oh – just my husband and kids, I really don’t…”
“OH! I HAVE JUST THE THING!!! (meanwhile she has no idea what my husband and kids like or what gender or age of my children are, but she has “just the thing”)”
She then proceeds to run around the store like a crazy person, running back to me with random crap – frames, trinkets, chocolate, god-awful stuffed animals that fucking sing, hug or kiss, including (for my husband) a stuffed bull that talks in a Spanish accent about “LOOOVVVE”. I tried to hide from her as I made my way around the store, but she kept finding me, armed with candles and cookies and a fucking travel cup that sings Johnny Cash. Don’t get me wrong – mr b and I like Johnny Cash, but I suspect that after the third playing, he would fill it with poison and drink it to put himself out of his misery.
Finally, I grabbed what I wanted and got the hell out. I mean, it’s the Hallmark Store! It’s the size of my family room! I think I can manage to shop without her help. Though, on second thought, perhaps I should have bought that Johnny Cash cup after all…mr b can really piss me off sometimes.