inkycatz wrote:
Please tell me why so I may continue to make some excuses to stave off the angry mobs. [/b]
I'll tell you exactly why the world didn't end..
or what I shall hence forth call the "End of the beginning of the end"
It started a few weeks ago, I was washing my wifes car. She spilled a diet coke in the front seat, and set her purse in it. Then, she set it on the hood, where it left a huge sopping wet spot. the Neighborhood cat walked in it, left sticky paw tracks up and down the window. Cheesed me off.
Well, I was on my way to the car wash, and I saw the 7-11 was having a sale on donuts. so I stopped in to grab two, you know, the chocolate ones with the multi-colored sprinkles.
Anyway, I was driving along, and the car made a "SPRONG" kind of noise. I knew right then, that something was hosed in the motor. I don't have enough money to get the motor fixed. I work in the computer networking field, as a low level install technician, and am still learning, so I drove to the repair shop.
Anyway, the shop foreman, Jim, The guys there call him jimmy the gimp, on account of his funny short leg. They saiod not to mention it, so I tried to ignore it, but it was difficult. I almost smirked, but I saw him whip his head around as if to look at me.
Anyway, he say to me, You need a new. "blah blah blah blah.." I kinda tuned him out, on account of how funny he walked as he paced and talked. So I says to him. "Sure"
Anyway, the next thing I know, is the car is being driven to the back of the lot, and straight into this big box, they call the "crusher." It seems, that the Gimp told me that he could fix it, or "reccomend" a new car dealer to me, his cousin Vinnie. They call him Vinnie- Leggs. on account of how long his legs are, which is funny, considering how funny and odd Jimmy-Gimps legs are.
Anyway, they CRUSH my car. They gave my 50 bucks cash for the scrap value for it.
Anyway, the reason the world didn't end, is because it really wasn't my car, Now I gotta go home, and tell my wife why her car is gone.
Trust me... I would rather have my brain munched on by a zombie horde or that the world had gone ploof because the sun had gone super-nova, then have to tell my "butter-cup" to put down her corn dog so I can tell her some Guy named Jimmy Gimp crushed her beloved "General Lee" look-a-like, and that I am going to have to buy her a Prius, so I can afford to buy her some more corn-dogs and Diet coke.
Anyway, if your every in Tupolo, come down to the hospital and look for me, I'll be in the sever trauma ward, suffering from two broken legs and a crushed spleen.
Butter-cup loved that car.
