monro muffler, will you marry me?

I would say I want to marry my mechanic, but since I don't have a specific individual mechanic, I will just marry the local franchise.

The Electric Lady was making her annual Scary Mysterious Rattly Noises of DOOM and after two weeks of driving with it, fearing that my transmission was going to fall out somewhere on the highway, I finally brought it in this morning. An excerpt from my very technical discussion:

Monro Dude: Can I help you?

Me: Hi! Yes! My car has been making these rattly noises -- or, well, more like clangy noises, like "Clang-rattle-clang" or "clang-clang-rattle-clang" or, you know what I mean, whenever I turn it on. It doesn't affect the running of the vehicle much, but it kind of terrifies my passengers -- even though I *tell* them it's fine, they just don't believe me, and I don't want them to be all scared, so I thought --

MD: Okay, so it makes a rattly noise. Key?

And then I carpooled with mom to work and sat here all morning waiting for the call with the estimate, and never got one! Which made me nervous! I mean, how long could it take them to find out? How many things could be wrong with my car? Scary!

I finally caved and called at noon, all scared, and after telling them which car (the little blue station wagon), the dude was all, "Oh yeah, that's done."

Terror! Terror! Do not want to pay massive amount of money! As lawyer's daughter, am already trying to figure out if I can get out of paying for the repairs since I explicitly asked them to call me first, and am cursing out mechanics in my head, when I asked how much it would be. After a series of "Yo! Mike! Did you work on the wagon? No? Okay. Yo! Dave! Did you work on the wagon? No? Okay. Yo! Steve!..." on the other end of the phone, the guy came back, and said the most beautiful two words ever found in the English language:

"Ten bucks."

And I could not restrain myself. I actually exclaimed, "Ten bucks?!" in the middle of the office like a loon.

Ten! Dollars! Ten dollars! No more scary rattling and it's all fixed for TEN DOLLARS! My car is fixed for TEN DOLLARS! Oh, I am such a happy girl!

I called my mother and gloated, which wasn't really the nice thing to do since, as she reminded me the second I finished gloating, she had to pay almost four hundred dollars for her brakes yesterday. Ouch.

No one can harsh my buzz! My car is fixed for ten dollars!

And that concludes this chapter in the saga of Jess's Mildly Ghetto Car.

family ties

i.

Carpooling home from work, I announced to my mother, "I am not going to spend any more money at all! I'm going to save save save!"

Three hours later she picked up the WalMart receipt I'd left on the counter, asked if I needed it, then glanced at the date/amount on it and said, "Not going to spend any more money, eh?" with a quirked eyebrow.

Whatever! Money spent on the new Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum book and Shanghai Knights so does not count, as they are integral to my sanity and the welfare of my SOUL. Also, I really really wanted both. It is indicative of my priorities that I didn't blink an eye at dropping $15 and $17 for the DVD and book respectively, and then proceeded to spend a solid ten minutes standing in front of a rack of clothes debating whether or not to buy a $5.00 pair of workout shorts that I really, really need. Like, sometimes I end up having to go outside and exercise in shorts and pants that haven't seen the light of day since the mid-nineties as they've been relegated to PJ duty for the past few years. I need new shorts! I'm almost positive I'm already ridiculed far and wide for my lame workout regime and lack of fitness, I don't need to be mocked for my shirts with holes in the armpits or bleach stains!

Anyway, the book is good and the DVD is sitting here right next to me, waiting to be happily watched. I don't know why I loved the movie so; I'm afraid I'm going to watch it again and find it far inferior. More to follow, surely, after I watch.

ii.

Sitting at dinner, Mom, the Brother, and yours truly present:

Me: ...I mean, it's not, like, Betsy Ross or something!

Jimmers: Hey, I like Betsy Ross! (very earnestly) She's my hero.

Mom and Me: ...

Me: Really?

Jimmy: No, not *really*. I mean, come on! I'm not black.

Mom and Me: ....

Jimmy: Wasn't she the one on the bus?

Mom: No! That was Rosa Parks!

Jimmy: Who the hell is Betsy Ross?

Anyway, for the rest of the night, my mother and I kept cracking up, saying, "Betsy Ross? Come on, it's not like I'm *black*." For some reason this just got more amusing every time, and by the end my brother was ready to kill the both of us.

iii.

I was peacefully sitting on the couch, enjoying the All Star Game, when my brother said, "Hey Jess, I have something I want to tell you" and then proceeded to lift his leg in the international sibling sign for Incoming Fartage. I responded quickly by moving to kick his leg in an attempt to distract him, only to face his retaliation of kicking my hand. Which was holding a big glass of icewater! And so I ended up with about a third of a glass of icewater ALL over me! So annoying! And my brother just sat there laughing, looking all satisfied with himself, and so I dumped the rest of it on his head.

It was a lovely moment, even with my mom screeching in the background about water getting on the couch. My mother doesn't seem to have embraced the fact that the couch is almost twenty years old and has had just about every liquid possible spilled on it. It can't get much worse for wear, and anyway, it was water! I think she was mostly upset because we distracted her from the game.

~~

And that's all that's fit to type into this Update Box tonight. One of these days I'll get around to discussing the big wedding and all, but tonight I'm too tired and Owen Wilson and Jackie Chan are waiting to entertain me with their wacky antics. Heart them so!