Blog 148: She's Got a Ticket to Blog

Beep beep, beep beep yeah.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, unless of course that news is the untimely but welcome death of Toby Keith, but alas fate has placed the crown of sorrow on my frail brow.

Stella may not make it through the week.

Yes, I received the news tonight that her illness is most likely due to a broken timing belt, which may mean that the valves were bent, which may mean I'll have to spend anywhere between $500 to $1000 to get her back from death's icy grip. That general amount of money seems to be like the dark rain cloud that hangs above my head like a depressing floating puppy. If I fix Stella it's that much, if I bury her and replace her with something else, it's that much, if I resign to using the Stuparu again as my permanent daily driver it'd take about that much to put on new tires, brakes, fix the oil leak, fix the heater, the windshield wipers, the headlight, the windows, etc, etc, etc. So my only idea, aside from risking felony charges via bank robbery or embezzlement, is to apply for a line of credit through some foolish institution and do the American thing by paying on plastic and dealing with it later.

Life, seriously, what the hell?

Not to mention that I have an ulcer on the cornea of my right eye and am on antibiotics and steroids AND that the frames for the ill-prescribed glasses I'm forced to wear are made of nickel thus giving me a rash on my temples and aggravating my dormant ecxema that apparently wasn't cleared up the last time I was prescribed medication for it.

Plus the threat of a lay-off at work is imminent. Whilst I once welcomed it as a 3 month vacation on Uncle Sam's dime I now fear it as it may not provide me enough chedda to pay my basic necessities, not including the hookers. I mean NOT hookers.

So, ironically, when I asked you all yesterday if you missed my bitching I didn't realize that it was a call to the universe to provide me with bitch-fodder. I'll be careful what I wish for from now on. Unless of course it works in my favor, in which case I wish for $50,000 and a pony.

I think I'll go put on an appropriately emo amount of mascara now.