Are you getting tired of hearing it?

I just realized how many posts start 'I haven't been blogging in a while' and I feel ya...its starting to annoy me too.

So, how goes it in butt-fuck-nowhere Nova Scotia? It goes better now that I have my car back from The Boy. His piece-of-shit Focus has been out of commission for more than a year and it is finally drivable.

I know that we should have given up on that thing a long time ago but after you spend so much money...well you have to know when to quit, but we didn't. After a couple of grand, I wanted it fixed just on principle so I could 'drive' it off a fucking cliff.
It was just one thing after another and in retrospect, we could have saved money if we had just replaced the motor. Oh well...what's done is done.

I am mobile now, even though I really don't go anywhere and now that I am not smoking I actually have money to spend. A couple of times I actually forgot it was payday. You don't realize how much money you spend on cancer sticks til you quit. I actually have money left over at the end of the month instead of the other way around.

If you are thinking at all about quitting smoking, think about it. Or email me...I will hook ya up.

Road Retarded.

Why can't men grasp the concept of the four-way stop?

We had a power outage and people lost their minds. I mean, really. Ok, so 5 minutes ago there were traffic lights and now they are dark. Whatever will you do?

Duh. You treat it like a four-way stop. Simple, right?

You would think, but no. You always get that one idiot that has to play traffic cop. Things are going smoothly, people taking turns, one after another clockwise. Til you get to this idiot who decides he is going to 'let you go' ahead of him. He is sitting there waving me on.

If I go, then he will go after me, which will effectively make everyone think that we are switching the whole direction of the four-way stop. I sit there hoping he will get the message and just take his turn, but no. He flashes his lights for me to go.

That is when I lose it, I start screaming at him, "Holy Fuck! Just fucking go! It's your turn and you will just fuck the rest of these idiots up."

He gives me the finger like he is hurting my feelings. I don't give a shit if he moons me, as long as he moves his ass along.

And here I was, thinking I was going to drive around wasting time til the power came back on. After that, I had to get off the road before I hurt someone.

New to me.

Got my new car today. Well, it's new to me and only had one other owner, Nurse Darling.

It's a 1998 Toyota Corolla, 5 speed.

I have a laundry list of things I want to buy for her. Wheel covers, being the most obvious. But I also need seat covers and a steering wheel cover, etc...

I am selling the old girl. A 1997 Chevy Cavalier. Shame really, I just had a shitload of work done to it. Breaks, shocks, struts, muffler. But Nurse Darling had told me she wasn't getting a new car until next year, so I put all my money into fixing the old girl.

However, as soon as Nurse Darling saw this little beauty, she couldn't resist. I asked The Boy if I should sell the old girl or did he want it. You know what he said?

"Go ahead and sell it." WTF?

Does he think he will get a better offer than 'free' for a car? Sometimes I don't understand what is going on in that boys head. So sell 'er we shall.

Anyone interested?

Man of few words.(no idea where he gets that from)

While The Boy is gone, I get sporadic emails. The trip was supposed to be from April 9th to the 25th.

I was wondering how he was going to manage being with 'the family' for that long but he was gung-ho about it.

I also worried about him driving through the states. I am sure you are all really nice people but I have CNN and I am programed to think you are all crazy psycho axe-murderers, don't blame me.

I told the boy, please when you stop for the night, just drop me a line so I know you are not chopped up and stuffed in the trunk of some car. For the most part he did and I was thankful for it.

I figured once he arrived in Florida I would not hear from him as often because, I would hope, he was having too much fun.

These are the emails I get from Florida:

April 12- I ask him if he is having fun and that I hope he is taking a lot of pictures.

yep ive been takin some pictures but dad dont got the drivers for his cam on here so ill show them to you when i get back

April 13- I tell him that Sammy misses him and that the school's automated system keeps calling to inform me that he is skipping school.

i told my teahcers you told them i was goin away
yull have to call them back and tell them to fuck off

April 14- I email him, since he is already sitting at the computer he could give me a little more info about what he is doing, I can't tell if he is having a decent time or not. Did he get my email about Sammy?

yeah i got the email about samy thats funny

went to universal today and it sucked i cant stand being around (his little brother) he getting on my nerves

I get nothing for a day, I figure he is busy having fun. Then this.

April 16-

find me a fuckin plane ticket home (with a little angry emoticon added to the end)

Now what? I email back, but get no more response. Then just about half an hour ago, I get a call.

It's The Boy, he is in Georgia.

"What do you mean, you're in Georgia?" At first I thought he fucked off hitch-hiking or some foolish thing.

"We are on our way home." Thank god he said 'we'.

"Why what happened?"

"Nothing, we are just on our way home."

"But you weren't supposed to be home for another week, something must have happened."

"Dad wanted to leave early, says traffic is bad in New York on the weekend."

Ya, right. Cut your Florida vacation by a week, to avoid weekend traffic in New York? Except wouldn't his present course put him in New York for the weekend?

I am sure in TBF's mind it makes perfect sense.

Day two of the road trip.

Told the boy to call me when they stopped for the night. But of course he didn't. But did get an email.

"hey mom im not dead !!:P


we jus passed new jersey and headin for philidalphia. cant get on messener but i can email
when we get to florida ill be talkin to you on msn

lova ya byeee"

God does not want The Boy to drive.

God really has it in for The Boy. He clearly does not want him driving a vehicle.

He failed his first road test. It happens. Then I pay to have him take a lesson so he would know how to pass the test. Next time his Aunt takes him and when they get there they realize the inspection has expired on the truck and he can't take the test.

I let him drive anyway, and he gets in an accident. Cha Ching!

After all that, he heads out today to take yet another test. He is ready, he has practiced, he has been schooled in how to get past the hard ass that gives the test. The vehicle is inspected and tuned up and insured. What could go wrong.

Snow storm.

His test was at 3:30pm, started coming down hard at 3:24pm.

The lord is trying to tell him something.

UPDATE:

The lord has been thwarted. The Boy is legal.

About freakin' time!

Pedestrian to be charged in accident

"A 65-year-old woman will be charged for not using a crosswalk after being hit by a car while crossing a Halifax street.

Halifax Regional Police say the incident occurred at about 9:30 p.m. Tuesday in the 3100 block of Joseph Howe Drive.

The woman, who was allegedly jaywalking when she was hit, was taken to hospital with non-life-threatening injuries, police said."

And I paid for the privilege.

We went out tonight so I could show The Boy how to put air in the tires. A useful skill considering that every one of my tires has a slow leak.

As we pulled up to my regular gas station I saw that the air filler thingy was otherwise occupied. This sucked because this is the only station I have found that actually has free air. I kid you not, you have to pay for air now.

Oh, they do have one of those pay machines but if you ask them they will flip a switch and turn it on for you free of charge. This is good for me because of the aforementioned slow leaks, otherwise I would have to take out a second job to pay for air.

So, since that station was out of the question I decided for this outing I would go to one of the others and pay. It's 50 cents, The Boy needed to learn and I was interested in just how much air 50 cents buys you. In the interest of science, we pull into the Esso and are greeted by this.



The first thing I noticed was the hose. It is retractable. Interesting. I start to pull on it and it seems to be pulling back. I must have to pull it out all the way, like a vacuum cord? I try this. Nope, I have to hold it while The Boy puts the air in the tire otherwise it will yank him back off his feet. Exactly how do you get this done without a buddy?

We manage to get two tires to the correct psi and wrangle the hose around to the other side of the car. I am holding the hose while The Boy takes off the valve cap. Just as he applies the tip to the valve stem the air stops.

The Boy then lets go of his end of the hose. It starts to retract faster than I can grab it. So fast that it is literally burning my hands. I look up to see the nozzle coming at me at a pretty good clip. I have to tighten my grip on the hose, burning my hands further, to avoid having my head cracked open by the fucking thing.

WTF?

I have to fight with the hose, pay for fucking air and it doesn't even stay on long enough for all four tires? What a racket. I am at a slow burn as I enter the station. I tell The Boy it is to get rolaids for him, but I just have to voice my opinion to the attendant.

My hands stinging, I enter the station. "I can't believe I just paid 50 cents to fight with your fucking machine only to get cut off before I actually got air in all my tires."

"You had to fight with it?" He is maybe 16 and clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed.

"How else do you keep from getting dragged across the parking lot on your ass?"

"Uh, I just step on it." Not something they printed on the instructions. They were more concerned that I only put quarters in the machine. Not enough space to put actual helpful information on the signage.

"How much money did you feed it before you came up with that brilliant solution?"

Blank stare.

"Well, my solution is to never frequent this gas station again. Period."

Beat to a snot!

I really can't wait til all this traveling is done with. Today we have to travel another 2 hours to tour the plant.

There will be walking.

I will be cranky.

Scuse me while I kiss the sky ground.

I am not sure my nerves will survive teaching two new drivers to drive.

Took my friend Kimmy driving today. This is the third or forth time she has had a learners permit. She never quite makes it to the actual road test. She is 41 and has never had a license. I think The Boy is doing a lot better, only because when you are 16 you have no fear.

She is not comfortable driving in town yet, so we go mostly through the country, occasionally on some dirt roads. I am trying very hard to stay positive, telling her she is doing fine, trying not to freak her out. You know, so she doesn't wrap us around a tree.

"Do you think I am too close to the side of the road?"

"Uh, well, I shouldn't be able to pick flowers out of the ditch. So ya, you're a bit close."

Took me a minute to get my sea legs back, I was never so happy to get behind the wheel.

55 Years!

I hadn't realized it had been kickin' for so long. All I knew is that it had been there for as long as I could remember.



There were 6 of us kids, in a station wagon. I couldn't say for sure if they took us all at once, but I remember dressing in our PJ's and taking a blanket and a pillow and heading for the car. Off to the drive-in. Mom would pack a lunch and dad would pick up the pepsi on the way.

Back then the speakers were on a pole. Large steel speakers that weighed a ton. And inevitably one person would drive away with it stuck in their window. If they were lucky the cord would break and not the glass.

The music isn't quite right on this one, but it is the same movie I remember. Well, everything before 2:37 anyway. Ours just repeated after that. We didn't get any of the other shit.



They actually tried to take it away a few times, one time it was kittens and puppies, not sure what the hell they were thinking. Anyhow, people expected to see this intermission show and enough people complained so they brought it back.

I remember being at the drive-in with The Boy's Father. We were baked, car filled with smoke, watching the intermission show in silence. Until TBF pipes up, dead serious, "That is one talented hot dog."

I know. And that was before I was even sleeping with him.

Get with the f'ing program!

Remember the term 'Sunday Driver'? You know, the guy going 10 miles an hour so he can take in the sights, I guess?

Well, ever since Sunday shopping came around, you can forget that shit! I learned that lesson as I was trying desperately to get myself a coffee today.

Gone are the leisurely drives on a Sunday afternoon. If you really need a cafine fix, you are taking your life in your hands. Mix the elderly sunday driver with the manic shopper and you have a recipe for disaster. Half going 10 miles an hour and the other half weaving in and out of them.

"Blinkers? We don't need no stinkin' blinkers!"

Add to that, the idiot (man) who thinks he needs to be traffic cop for everyone else. You know the one. Four way stop. Everyone (except this crayon) knows how to deal with a four way stop. Look to your right, if there is someone there you wait. Once the guy on your right has gone, its your turn. Simple.

Enter Mr. Traffic-cop-wannabe. He is waving people through the intersection and we are trying desperately to ignore him and with that, hopefully, force him to get with the program. But no! Mr. Crayon-traffic-cop must let someone go ahead of him, thus fucking up the whole process. He thinks he is being Mr. Courteous, when all he is doing is inspiring vehicular homicide.

It was all I could do not to get out of my car, march over to him and slap him across the face with a dead fish. Fortunately for him I was presently out of dead fish, so I just put my head down on the steering wheel and prayed for him to be zapped off the face of the planet. Or some sort of freak animal encounter. Nothing fancy, but I was hoping for some gore.

Remember, I still had no coffee. He really doesn't realize who he is dealing with.

To Whom It May Concern:

Dear Wendy's:

If you are going to jump all over me the second I pull up to the speaker, then back the fuckin' menu up a couple feet so I can figure out what I want. And tell that retard you have working the other end, that when I say 'give me a sec' I do not mean that literally.

Kisses,

Evel

Dear Steven Segal:

If the girl on the floor has a bullet hole between her eyes. You can skip the whole 'checking of the pulse' part of the program.

Oh and if you are in the middle of suburbia and the cop chick you are with gets shot. You take her to the fucking hospital, Moron. You don't throw her on the fucking table, jam a bottle of tequila down her throat and dig out the bullet with a kitchen knife.

Who raised you?

Evel

Dear Evel's Long Term Memory:

I know you are fickle, but do you think you could kick in for the important stuff? Like to remind her why she never buys apple juice? You have no problem reminding her that she likes apple juice. You couldn't take that tiny extra step and remind her also that it tears the fucking guts out of her and she will be gorging on Tums for a week and the acid reflux will drive her insane?

Yours Respectfully,

Evel

Dear SUV Asshole in front of me in the Tim Horton's Drive-thru:

People use the drive-thru because they don't have time to go in and sit down for a coffee.

If you need to order 16 sandwiches and 14 coffee and have all your muffins heated up with butter, then get the fuck off your fat ass and go in and order. I have to get to fuckin' work.

Amen,

Evel

Dear Large Grocery Chain:

If you are going to have an 'express' lane, please do not put a cashier in charge that has less than 10 minutes of experience.

'Express' should not mean 'as fast as this particular shithead can go'.

And put someone in there with some balls. She can see that this person ahead of me has more than 10 items, but she says nothing. So, not only is she ringing his shit through at a snails pace, she is allowing him to break the rules of the express lane.

Just once, I want to see the cashier push a button that trips an alarm, complete with sirens and flashing lights. Goes on the loud speaker and says,

"Attention Shoppers!

Due to the inexplicable selfishness of this illiterate, mathematically challenged prick..." she looks at him, "No offense but we do have this huge lighted sign that says 10 items or less and I don't see a white cane or a fucking guide dog." Back to her announcement,

"As I was saying, Thanks to the misplaced superiority complex of this dick wad, there will be a delay in the normal speedy service you receive in this lane. You can thank Mr. 25 Items here for his overblown sense of self-importance, he clearly believes his time is more precious than anyone else's. You can furthermore thank this useless piece of shit for wasting the next 10 minutes of your life with his asshole-ness.

Thank you for shopping at Large Grocery Chain."

A girl can dream.

Evel