Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
I'm not going to go into all the details here, because I know better,
but my Blazer has struck once again. Another $533 straight down the ol'
open-mouth waste receptacle.... Whoever said in yesterday's comments
that my Sprint-based bad karma has manifested itself in the vehicle I
drive was right on the mark, I think. It had never occurred to me, but I
believe it might be true. Sweet sainted mother of Youree Harris!
I'm very seriously thinking about sneaking out of work today after the
one o'clock ball-buster, and going car shopping. And I do mean car.
Toney and I talked about it all evening yesterday, over the traditional
decision-making malt beverages, and I think we're ready to not only
throw in the towel on the Chevy Tearmaker, but camping as well. All in
one fell swoop. Or fell soup, or whatever that phrase is.
As I type this, and it'll probably change by the hour, I'm thinking
about a Toyota Camry or a Nissan Altima. Not very good in the snow, I
know, but comfortable, reliable, and easy on the gasoline. So that's the
current plan, with the situation fluid. One thing's for certain, though:
we've finally reached the tipping point on that rolling shitbox. Grrrr....
And don't even bother emailing me to ask what repairs I had done
yesterday. I ain't telling you, because even if it were a new
transmission a few of you'd say I got bent frontways over a couch. And
my shredded nerves can't take it anymore. Serenity now!
-- I can tell that this is going to be one half-assed update.... I have
several decent subjects scribbled in the notebook, but no passion to go
into any of them right now. I just can't get my mind off cars.
For instance, does the Camry or Altima mean anything? When we
lived in Atlanta I think I was pretty plugged-in to what certain cars
meant, but now I'm not so sure. I worry that I'm losing my edge, and
might unknowingly hang a sign around my neck proclaiming myself
something I'm not. Oh, there goes Jeff Kay in his Nissan Altima....
You know what that means: Jew-hater. I can't have that.
Back in the day it was common knowledge that lesbians and outdoorsy
wire-rim types drove Subarus, and gay men opted for certain kinds of
Jeeps. BMW stood for Black Man's Wheels, liberals drove Volvos, and
minivans and huge SUVs said all sorts of mockable things.
But I'm working off ten year old information here. Help me out, people.
I need to be brought up to date on this shit, by day's end.
-- Screw it. I'm just gonna pass this half-assery off to Bucknow, and get the day started.
--
I'm not going to go into all the details here, because I know better,
but my Blazer has struck once again. Another $533 straight down the ol'
open-mouth waste receptacle.... Whoever said in yesterday's comments
that my Sprint-based bad karma has manifested itself in the vehicle I
drive was right on the mark, I think. It had never occurred to me, but I
believe it might be true. Sweet sainted mother of Youree Harris!