September 4, 2009


Crabby Bitch

Grrrrrrrrr. Having one of those days. I took my minivan in for an oil change, told my WonderMechanics to please check the brakes - they were nagging and pulsing.

"Hmmm. You need new rotors," said Jim. I stared blankly at him. The stupid van has 40,000km on it. 40,000. I haven't liked the whole van more than about an inch in the whole 2 and a half years we've had it, but now I sincerely hated it.
"Are you kidding me? Rotors at 40K?" I yelped.
"Take it to the dealer. Might be warranty," he told me. The dealer is around the corner, so I came home and called them. I took it right up (which surprised me; usually there is a wait, and the reason I won't do OLFs with them is because they insist on keeping it for the whole day, and frankly, I refuse to be without my vehicle for an entire day while they perform a service that takes half an hour.)

I explained that it had been checked an hour before, and apparently the rotors were pooched. I asked about warranty, because 40,000km and needing rotors is vile. I've had some cars that didn't need brake work of any type (forget rotors) till 80,000km, but no way should I be looking at rotors this soon. Nope. No warranty. I gaped at him. He said he'd charge me 50 bucks to check what I'd just told him; I told him to write up his estimate, assuming it needed each step. And then I called Jim and said I'd be bringing it back to him.

I'm recognizing the heat of this particular fume. The last time was when I had a Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo years ago, and the brakes were fried at 20,000km. Driving styles heavily dictate how long brakes will last; I'm incredibly easy on my vehicles, so I take fried brakes personally. And hands down, I do 90% of the driving of my van.

Ever notice how a foul mood settles over the rest of your day like soot? I keep seeing ads for a new romantic comedy with Sandra Bullock. I think she's okay. But in this movie, it looks like she's 20 years too old for the part. Bumbling, desperate freak in stupid outfits. Stop making this crap.

It's grocery shopping day. I hate grocery shopping. And right when I got back from the mechanics, the bank called me and said my debit card had been compromised. Which means I have to replace it. I just replaced it 3 weeks ago, when it was apparently compromised while I used it in the Yukon. I am starting to take all this compromising personally.

Ari is on the football team this year. He brought home his equipment yesterday. Not only do they not clean it from the year before, it seems this uniform was one of the ones used by the teams when I went to Central. In 1976. I made him pull it apart, and we stuffed all of it - including pads - into the washing machine. I put in too much soap, turned it to hot, and prayed the decades of dirt and smell weren't the only thing holding it together.

Christopher is playing football too. He'll be bringing home his uniform next week. Yay.

Every night, I hear a cat snickering up a hairball, somewhere in the house. Every morning, I creep around looking for the landmine, hoping to find it with my eyes and not my feet. I finally decided we need to brush the fluffy girl more often - so last night I grabbed JoJo and started to brush her. She loves this. Usually. There she was, purring away, until she grabbed my hand to help. I now have claw marks all over my right hand. And blood.

I'm trying to buy a new freezer. I want a 10 cubic foot one. I can't find one. So I have to keep chipping the ice off the old one, which is too big, and there are puddles all over the basement floor. And I step in them.

I keep forgetting to buy relish.

As sad as it may seem, I have come to realize there is pretty much nothing better than homemade macaroni and cheese.

I had a coupon for American Eagle, so we could buy the boys' back to school clothes. I got it out yesterday. It expired last week.

The Poor Sod went out for a beer after work yesterday. He got home at 2am. He woke me up, so I punched him. That's 3 nights this week with about 3 hours sleep. Hence the title.

Growl.

11 Comments:

Anonymous Viny said...

Go to the spa. By yourself. Just pick up your purse...and go.

September 04, 2009 2:22 PM  
Anonymous jmd said...

I had a nice little freezer in my basement, filled with the usual unknown foodstuffs. Unfortunately, it chose to die one summer's day, and it took me about a week to realize it. My husband and I then had to sift through the most foul-smelling soup of melted ice cream and rotting meat, scooping out the chunks and bailing the rest. It was like a bad episode of CSI. Feel better?

September 04, 2009 2:25 PM  
Blogger Webgod Jeff said...

Given all that information, sorry about the invoice yesterday...

September 04, 2009 2:39 PM  
Blogger Lorraine said...

Viny, good advice.

jmd, as always, you make me laugh.

Jeff? You did such an awesome job on the Yukon adventures, I will not bitch even a little about your invoice. And I'll even pay it :)

September 04, 2009 3:35 PM  
Anonymous buzzwhack said...

Jeep, you know what we call thoses cars in the trade? Just Empty Every Pocket. I won't even mention what we call Dodges and Chryslers...

September 04, 2009 4:22 PM  
Blogger DJ said...

...Camshaft Sensor and sending unit, shift solenoid, $700, on a car with 330,000 km. Just paid $800 to replace $1.50 clip in tranny. NOT A MISPRINT.

...Kid accepted to University, then they rescind their offer.

...Insurance company wants to inspect roof before reinstatement of coverage, will likely hike rate because of increased value. And they denied my original claim.

...started 1 year job this week, then contractor wants to delay till spring.

and I thought my week was bad.

Take two bottles of wine and call no one.

Go.

Now.

oh...and I got a crack in my arse that won't heal.

DJW

September 04, 2009 7:59 PM  
Blogger OmemeeOzzie said...

Two words; upright freezer.

September 04, 2009 11:44 PM  
Blogger DJ said...

Ozzie is right.
easier to find stuff.

Woods makes one that is convertible, switches from fridge to freezer with the flick of a switch.

September 05, 2009 5:31 AM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

We left for Vegas last Saturday. One of Air Canada's Crabby Bitches didn't show up for work so instead of the 230 people who were booked on the flight only 200 could go. Because our family loves an adventure, we decided to take their offer of a flight to Los Angeles and we decided to drive to Vegas from there. We got to LAX. Our bags steadfastly refused to be a part of the adventure and stayed in Toronto. We were assured our bags would be sent to Vegas from Toronto the next day. We drove to Vegas.

Our bags decided the fires in LA were probably more interesting after all and headed to LA. The Air Canada people in LA said "we don't have a flight to Las Vegas from here" and sent them back to Toronto. The bags... after much grumbling and confusion, elected to head back to LA and then were escorted to a United Airlines flight to LV. Where we picked them up three days after we should have had them. The 99 cent store in Las Vegas knows us very well.

Our cat gives us a 30 second warning before coughing up a hairball. It sounds like a mix between a moose in heat and Golum (from Lord of the Rings) being squished between two 200 tonne boulders. He has coughed up the hairball in mid-flight as we fling him out the back door, but it turns out you can cover a lot of territory in 30 seconds.

I have a Chrysler 300 that has pulsating brakes at 34,000 km. It's the last one I'll own.

Hope the weekend's going better.

September 06, 2009 1:26 PM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

Incidentally... I have a great solution to your forgetting to buy relish. If you're anything like me, you always think of it when you are the farthest from a grocery store. So what you do is tie a hamburger around your neck. Then... when you get to the grocery store, at some point you'll bend over to get something off a shelf. The hamburger will swing out and probably knock something off the shelf. You'll swear, (being crabby and all) and say "Huh... what's this hamburger doing around my neck?" Then you'll remember to buy the relish and as a treat, if the burger hasn't gone mouldy, you get to eat it. And if no one in the store is looking, you can squeeze a bit of the relish onto the burger, too. Genius... pure genius.

September 06, 2009 3:54 PM  
Blogger DJ said...

I can't believe they let Chris live in Oakville

DJW

September 09, 2009 4:38 PM  

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