Can I borrow a penis just for a few minutes?

  Sometimes the oil change guys apparently like to mess with my head.  At first, I found their input helpful...as in they are telling me things I may not otherwise remember...such as: you should rotate your tires every other oil change or  so and that my timing chain will need replacing at 120,000 miles. I can't remember numbers to save my life. That's a fact.
 
  Soon, however, I found their input rather annoying.  "You need new tires before winter." Yes, I know. Can I afford new tires? Sadly, no. I never bought new tires until I had the money meaning with my income tax return, but that didn't stop the guys from tsk-ing at me every time I needed an oil change. I really thought about asking if THEY would care to donate $400 so I could ride around on nice, fresh tires.

   Lately its been: "Your car is low on brake fluid, you need to have those brakes checked."  Guess what? I heeded their advice and called a guy out to check my brake system. Nothing. No clue. Everything is fine. I have a mystery disorder in which the car enjoys chugging brake fluid on occasion.  No leaks.  Nothing. Rotors...fine, pads, fine. Everything fine. Stops on a dime. I gave the man 10 bucks for his trouble, which was more than he asked for, and away he went.  I keep checking the brake fluid. Full. Every time.

    Until....
  
     I need another oil change. Then of course, he nags me about having the brakes checked. Yes, I DID have the brakes checked. Nothing was the matter.  "Well, did the guy take the wheel off?" Yes, of course he did. He was out there for half an hour checking my car. I saw him.  "Have him run a micrometer over those rotors...they need replacing..." Uh...huh....if you can't measure the roughness with your own skin then its not worth the money. Even I know this. A MICROMETER? REALLY?  Also, if its not making me chew through brake pads then nothing is wrong.

     Then he says "Your car is leaning to the right. You should have your shocks checked." I do. Ed just left. Pushed and shoved on all four shocks. Shakes his head in bewilderment and says he can't find anything wrong.  Also the car is not visibly listing. I've seen cars with bad suspensions going down the road.  Those poor, injured cars list to the left, they list to the right, they sag in the back, they sag in the front.  This is not to say that fresh shocks wouldn't perk up the yellow beast, just that I am  going to need to apply that money toward a new timing chain soon and I don't have a wonderful cash generating machine in my vicinity.  If they were broken or dangerous, I would gladly get them; hence the point of having Ed investigate.  The backs are 38 bucks a piece, the fronts, however are 80 bucks apiece.

     From now on I am going to stay home during the oil change and send someone who owns a penis; unless someone can loan me a penis for the short duration of an oil change.  Go figure, the one with the vagina was the one who figured out her car needed a serpentine belt and the one with the penis ran in freaking out that the car was making "THAT NOISE!"  Imagine, the vagina just went and turned off the air conditioner and the fan and THAT NOISE stopped, and she deduced it was a simple belt. Hence Ed replaced the belt so the defroster and air conditioner are once again safe to use and without THAT NOISE.
   
      I always knew sexism was out there, but I really didn't think it was still at this level of idiocy. My dad raised me to know that being a girl or a boy isn't the issue, its how you use your brain. More men of his generation should have been so enlightened.

     Women still only make 80 cents of every dollar a man makes yet make up 47% of the workforce. Ridiculous.

Back to Work Ick

    The worst thing about vacation is the going back to work bit.  Funny, I didn't miss the bitchy, rude customers on their cell phones, the insulting sexist pigs, or the politics of the idiots who bow to the Nashville Nazis.  I cleared six feed pallets while the apparently inept put newer feed on the floor and left older in the backroom, filled holes that had probably been empty for days because no one noticed the bags of that feed on a strange pallet, and sweated buckets. I don't care if the store IS air conditioned, throwing that much feed by hand is lots of work. I actually kind of like it. I get to use all  my girly brawn and have stupid macho idiots comment.
      I have two favorite comments of the day. I almost think if I remembered all the stupid, bitchy, insulting things I could write a blog just on that. Good thing I don't remember them all or I'd be on some heavy doses of psychotropic drugs.  Comment One:  "I don't like your credit card machine being all the way over here...I really really hate it..." Yeah, like I can do anything about that you stupid blonde bitch, and, anyway, its only three feet further to the left than it would have ordinarily been located. Comment Two:  "Do you know anything about chainsaw blades or should I ask the gentleman in the back?"  Fuck you, asshole. Yes, I am a FEMALE. Girls these days can do ANYTHING. Did you miss that memo?  I told you your answer. I do, however give you credit for not seeking out "the gentleman in the back" and second-guessing me. I really really hate that. And you would have gotten the exact same answer anyway.
    Of course, today, we work the freight. This blows.  Apparently there was no truck during my vacation.  Too bad. I like it when they all have to squirm. Instead, if we have a mammoth truck they will expect me to work most of it as we have no freight team anymore, just a collection of 2 individuals who have to hop on and off registers and deal with customers just like they are NOT supposed to be doing. Yay for cutting hours...and managers making giant labor bonuses while the rest of us are asked why this or that didn't get done and are thrown under the bus when its the man who makes the schedule who should be shot through with the Arrow of Blame.
   
    Vincent is the size of a football. And still very very cute. Wasn't fond of the brushing last night, however two very rowdy dogs were growling and barking in the other room, so he was nervous. This morning he is sniff/licking my feet and hopping about cheerfully. 

     We now have an Emma dog. We love her. She is settling in nicely and learning not to mess with my cats.  Jon raised his voice at her yesterday and before she chased kitty this morning she looked at me as if to ask if she could chase kitty. I said no and she listened. Good girl. Sweet girl.  Now, we just have to get her to stop barking at the rat dogs and the neighbors next door as though she would like to eat them. I think its do-able.  She needs time and practice is all. 

    Fat kitty is on a strict diet. I haven't heard her yowling about the empty feed dish due to Emma and hyper doggy fun time.  Good. Moose kitty seems the least perturbed, which is odd, but good since she is a good weight and doesn't need to diet.

     Seriously thinking about getting into the habit of painting again. Except that I need to do something to make money that I enjoy, I think. I don't want to sell paintings particularly, I seem to hoard them and like them and give them only to people I know will love them..but I do need the money. And its not like this will be instant. Oils take at least 6 weeks to dry. I just have to get off my ass and do it either after work, before work, or on my days off. But its hard to paint uninspired....gah...creativity doesn't come with a time clock.

I went, I saw, I tootled....

  Went to Ohio for a funeral. That was the not so fun part. Good news was more people showed up than anyone ever expected; and my grandpa was actually happy to see me for once. He's definitely shaken up; I haven't seen him so mellow in my entire life. Usually he's quite the angry, ornery old firecracker, full of piss, vinegar, the dregs of whiskey from his old drinking years, and nicknames. All the nicknames have changed, since I've been around, of course, so I have no clue who he's rambling on about. I used to know them all: Itch and Scratch, Mopper Jack, Pork Chop, Picky Pint-Ass......yep, he's colorful, alright, and those are the good things. The bad, I'm trying to bury in the memories of childhood, its not working very well, but lingering on the bad when people change isn't productive.

     

     Challenging fun is driving on unmarked gravel dirt roads and thinking, hmmm....I've been both ways at the fork, which one goes where....and not caring really, just seeing where you'll wind up.  And the hilarious thing is there is no way I could ever give directions, I just have to be there and see it all firsthand.  I went all over the border between Coshocton and Holmes counties by back roads, which are quite convenient since they were repaving the main artery: State Route 83.

   

     Blissfield is so much worse than I remembered it...full of empty, falling down houses, not so empty falling down houses, people staring at you as if you're up to no good, junk, debris of a bygone era and waste; actually, the tremendous waste of all those great old houses and resources gone just because the economy has gone to crap and the area can't even support itself. Of course, the only place to go in Blissfield  is the cemetery.  Sad, really.  

    But, near there is one of the only surviving old covered bridges left in Ohio, maybe the only one now, I don't know.  I think it is technically called the Helmick covered bridge, which is weird, and maybe it used to be another, old dead town that's rotting bones are now so lost only the very old remember. 

     Then, there is a barn on the way to Killbuck, and I don't remember the man's name who owns it. And, my photo doesn't do it justice, however, it was taken out of a moving car....and its a barn with images of rock and roll greats painted all over it.  I apologize for the obnoxiously large photos, but, otherwise, you can't tell what it is at all.

       And you know, there really is no place like home--and Michigan while technically home, doesn't feel so homey as this--

Waiting

     Waiting stinks. I know, I am currently waiting.  Jon talked to mechanic guy yesterday. Mechanic guy assured him that yes, he can check all the trans fluids in a sealed transmission and get us on the road to Ohio by tonight so I can go to a funeral in the morning, so far, no love. He's had said car since 8 am.  But I am eager to get on the road considering I loathe all rush hours and somehow imagine this will all be timed just right to get me into Toledo during the evening rush.  I just hope nothing is wrong and its fine...which is what we're paying the guy to tell us, really.  No fried transmissions, please.
    I did manage to benefit from waking up at the ass crack of 8 am to deal with the car, Jon called while driving and said there is an old, sweet window in the trash not even a block from our house. I walked over and grabbed it before the garbage men could steal such a thing and throw it into a landfill. No idea what I'm going to do with it as yet, but old windows are cool things. I am sleepy, however, despite drinking quite bad bad corn syrup loaded with caffeine to pollute a small pond.
       My friend Ruth introduced me to the word combination "douche canoe" and I cannot stop saying it, its just too fun.   Cut me off in traffic, I shall proudly yell, "DOUCHE CANOE!" at you....drive a mini van, you are automatically a douche canoe.
       Handsome Mr. Vincent received a nail trimming. He was not impressed and scratched me. Then he settled down and let me trim them, deciding that yes, indeed it was worth a yummy treat.  He's such a spoiled bunny, but he's so full of personality and happiness that its infectious, which is exactly what animals are for, to cheer us up.
      Jon's parents left me a nice birthday card, despite the fact that my birthday isn't until the 2nd, and it had some tasty cash inside it, which is nice considering this unexpected trip to Ohio before my vacation to Ohio.  Meaning, I have to come back to Michigan, work 3 days, clean bunny cage and kitty litters and purchase new tags for my license plates before heading back to Ohio....life is weird.
     

Ball Punting and Unrelated Tales

     I'm not sure whether its strictly normal or not, but I as a woman, when argued with by jerks 4 times my size, I want to physically confront said jerks.  I ran into a situation at the store yesterday where this man  mountain decided to argue with me over a point in which he was completely wrong. I thought, hey, if I didn't need the money, I'd like to just punt you in the balls unexpectedly, then maybe kick your teeth in. I don't take this shit from my friends and family, why should I take it from a complete stranger?  Yes, yes you keep saying your wife is a lawyer well, that doesn't make you entitled to every damn thing you think you need or want. You definitely need a good ball punting.  Getting your ass kicked by a woman might knock your ego down a couple pegs.  Or maybe your wife kicks your ass at home and that's why you feel the need to pick on minimum wage employees?  Probably.

    Urgent care clinic sent a bill after we, I thought, paid in full for horrible, horrible rash. Finally get a call back from the billing lady and pretty much she says, they didn't charge you enough, you owe us $50 more.  I'm sorry, but when I am told I must pay before leaving, I assume that means I owe you no more money.  I think if you make a mistake on the amount, you should then be shit out of luck. If I am undercharged at a store, then that's the store's problem. Just because you are a professional who can't do math correctly doesn't give you the right to then decide I owe more money. It should be your problem.  Yay. I now have $30 till payday. Thanks for always squashing the little guy.  A good ball punting may do you some good as well.

    On a happier note, I bought a horse-sized bale of hay for a tiny, tiny rabbit. I can't believe they charge $5 for a tiny bag of hay when a hay bale can be purchased for the same amount. It can live in my shed for the rest of the year. I don't mind.  Tiny, tiny rabbit appreciates it.  I did forget that I am somewhat allergic to hay and did a lot of sneezing and tickl-y coughing after riding home with hay in my car. Oh well, animals are worth it, allergies or not.

      Living in the suburbs is weird, if you've never lived anywhere near town before.  Neighbors are insane with their constant mowing of the grass. And they mow it so short it turns brown and looks bad.  I'm the horrible one who lets the grass grow long and mow it when I have time and then always leave the adjustment all the way up.  I also have dandelions in my yard. Apparently, town people enjoy lovely pesticides and deadly chemicals to be sprayed all over their living areas.  So weird. No wonder bees are going extinct. My neighbor is at this very moment using a lawn tractor to mow his city lot.  It takes him longer than it would if he simply used a push mower because he has to keep avoiding obstacles and circling.  I wonder how much money he uses in gas on that thing?  I have nothing against lawn tractors. Sometimes, you need one. Sometimes you don't.  "Almond Joy's got nuts, Mounds don't....because.....sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't."

Vincent in the Morning

     Vincent rules the world with the his tiny little cute nose and floofy fur. I kid you not, tiny bunny, weighing in at less than five pounds got me out of bed at 6 this morning. A feat, I tell you!  Scrambling and scratching and trying in vain to do zoomies in his tiny little cage which Jon had moved when it got horribly hot yesterday to the top of my dresser in the blessed sanctuary of an air conditioned bedroom.  Bunnies do not understand about sleeping in, bunnies want to zoom when bunnies want to zoom! Bunnies, however DO like air conditioning.
      It is cooler now, as my allergies attacked when I tried to lie back down to go to sleep after taking Vincent to his room so he could zoom about to his little heart's content. So, I caved and got up. And am at Vincent's mercy as he demands that his nose be scratched and his ears rubbed as he alternately zooms around the room. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if I were to venture out and pick some tasty dandelions and grass for him, but so far, I haven't had the drive.
     He is a good bunny for all his conquering the world with his cuteness. He's begun to poo as well as pee in his litter pan. Ah, clever rabbit, how I envy your hyperactivity with no need for caffeine.  
                            

                        Just in case you're wondering, THIS is what I'm up against:

Reasons Never to say Life is Boring

     1. Suddenly there will be a horrible rash. 
Many hours will be dedicated to: doctors, spending money on doctors, bandages, band aids, tape, steroids, and the like. There will be several instances of calling in late to work to help wrap appendages. The recipient of all this care and time will be less grateful as the days go by. So far, the horrible rash has lasted over a week. He is not a patient with an abundance of patience.
     2.  People will just up and quit their jobs and leave their co workers hanging so that the shift is crazy busy for the remaining two people. 
What happened to people working their shift then quitting at the end of it?  This is why people who work in retail drink too much. 
    3. Customers will needlessly be assholes. 
Which is why, after I explain 6 times to a phone customer that a certain model of weed eater has attachments available, but it does NOT come with the attachments and they must be ordered at extra cost and shipping, and said customer continues to argue; I told him I do not have it in stock but a less competent staff at a larger store does and sent him there. Good luck, asshole, deal with incompetence and driver further than you have to.  Be nice to the salespeople. Don't argue. Don't think that because I'm female that I know nothing. We will fuck with you. Yet another reason people in retail drink too much.
     4.  Your husband will go postal because somehow his phone keeps falling under the car seat while he's driving. 
 I dunno why he can't put the damn thing in the cup holder like a normal person. Then will drive angry, come home angry, and say "hey, I may or not have caused an accident. People were driving like fuckers." Then I say, "hey, what happened?" And the answer is..."I'm not sure. I think I didn't yield for long enough and the guy behind me had to slam on his brakes and then the guy behind him maybe hit him?"  To me this says, you did not really cause the accident. People were following too closely. But, hell, that got my pulse going.
    5. Your car will need new parts just like every other car with 100,000 miles on it, but suddenly you will need a serpentine belt that is so small that the guy at the parts store even looks at it askance.
It looks like a 5/8 inch lawnmower belt. No joke.  Parts counter guy double checks the numbers and you go home with a lawnmower belt.
   6.   Your dog will get into the grease you dumped outside because its bad for the ancient plumbing in your house and you will get as much of a bath as he does.
He, however, will not be grateful that you saved him from the grease.  He just thinks its yummy and that soap smells bad.
  7.  You will write a blog that sounds like a crummy country song and your husband will read it over your shoulder as you stare at him apprehensively. 
Luckily, mine has a great sense of humor and finds this funny.