What an odd and incredible painful last few days this has been. I shake my head even as I write this ...

First of all, my car. Because the in-law's were coming into town, I thought it would be nice of me to have my car all spiffied up. You know, I thought they might like to ride in a clean car versus a car owned and operated by a 23-month-old. I'm nice that way.

What I did NOT plan on was the absolute shit job they would do on my car - all the way around. The car is gone no more than the 20-30 minutes it usually is gone during said detailing. This is where I went for said shit detailing, and I wouldn't advise going to this Fucktard's-R-Us Detailing Center #2:

Upon return:

1. My carseat didn't scoot back anymore. My legs were jammed up so far underneath the steering column, I bruised my thigh numerous time trying to get the fuck out of the car. When I pulled over about a block away, I looked under the seat to find a can of something jammed underneath the seat. Because I'd been driving a good long time without any trouble with my carseat, this was concerning. And because I couldn't fix it in an abandoned parking lot at noon, I decided to go home.

2. I noticed when I got out in the parking lot that the lazy fucktards hadn't really cleaned my car at all. The backseat still had HDToddler remnants all over. Dried milk from throwing his cup that morning. Pieces of crumbs on the back seat floor. NOTHING WAS DIFFERENT. Well, other than the fact I couldn't MOVE BACK MY SEAT!!

3. I came home, and realized they'd fucked up my key. Likely, they used it to try and dig free the can of whatever underneath the car seat and broke it. This angers me more. Why? It will be fucking expensive to fix. Damn foreign car keys. My dad would be turning in his grave now.


Once in the garage ... oh, the safety of my garage ... I unleashed the Fury That Is HDW and beat the ever-loving shit out of the can under my seat with a wrench. I attacked it with such force, I believe - truly - I let out years of pent up anger. Then, I got the can free from the seat and removed it (read: threw it far) from the car (read: across the garage).

I think I have the car problem solved. I think I'm going to have a couple of relaxing hours before the In-Law's arrive. I am wrong again.

In a matter of minutes, my car goes from broken to possessed. The horn is going off. The car is locking and unlocking by itself. I still don't see Ashton Kuchter punking me, but it's possible at this point. And had he been there, I would have shoved the can of whatever up his ass. Truly.

In the end (a weekend later), it's determined by the Yo-Ho's at the dealership that three things have happened to the car:

1. someone broke the key
2. someone stuck a hose under the seat and unhooked a cord ($57, please)
3. a leak in the windshield wiper fluid container ($230 or some such amount)


One funny:
On my way home from picking up the car, I stopped in at Walgreen's. There was a woman in some 80's leotard with a big bandana, and big ol' curly ass hair. She was chattering up a storm to the guy behind me.

CrazyWoman: They are going to stop selling DVD's here. That's what they told me. ... jibberishjibberishjibberish ... because Snickers are better.

GuyInLine: That's wild.

CW: I have premonitions. They aren't just regular ones you get, but REAL ones. .... jibberishjibberish ... Sonny and Cher, but I told her, Sonny is gonna die. Dead on a tree. .... more jibberish ... And I can tell you when you'll die. I can see people dying before they die.

GL: That's crazy.

I check-out, get to the car, and see in time the Guy In Line RUNNING in a dead sprint to his car. He says to me, "That chick is fucking WHACK, man. She ain't with me!!"

And you say Denver is boring. Meh.