Thursday, May 29, 2008
Prelude To A Fucked Up Vacation
I’m supposing that everyone will get bitten by a spider at some point in their lives. I thinking that it must be one of those inevitabilities. Keep in mind that I haven’t actually read any stats on the subject or anything, I am just trying to jinx the world since it happened to me.
So, I get bit by a spider and no superpowers, as if yet. What a rip off. I mean, Peter Parkers happened right away. But not me, oh no; I get bitten by a spider and all I get is fucked by the world. I’m sueing the fuck out of Marvel comics. Now I suppose my Iron Man suit that I’m building in my studio ain’t gonna fly at all.
Let’s see, I go to work Monday night and have an encounter with a bunch of fuck-headed gang bangers, two of which went to jail. One was high and had outstanding warrants, which I normally would not have cared about until he tried to get smart with me. Don’t get smart with me you little bastard! He goes to jail, along with his high ass cousin, and all is happy in the life of One Man. (Don’t get smart with me, you little ass hole. I got a call out here, I didn’t come because I wanted to see what kind of house shoes you dumbass was wearing.)
I get off that morning and my week long vacation official begins. So, sometime around Tuesday night I feel this itching sensation on my forearm. I’m thinking I must have gotten bitten by a mosquito or something, except that it is itching more than a mosquito bite normally itches me. I look at it and it seems to be taken on a spherical shape and I’m thinking, is this ring worm. How the hell did I get a ring worm? And it is seriously itching so I scratch the hell out of it and then put some ointment on it. When I wake up on Wednesday it is looking even worse and that’s when it’s comes to me. I’ve been bitten by a spider. I know this because I have been around at least two people that had been bitten by the little brown recluse spider. Ain’t this a bitch? But I seek medical attention, get medication and spend that day attempting to clean up my little homestead.
Today, Thursday, I look at the Break Up, get dressed in some sweats and a sleeveless t and head out to get some last minute items for my little vacation. The plan is to purchase some shorts, comic books, lunch and then credit union to fill up my pocket cash card and get an addition hundred in cash. Simple, right? Err, wrong. Oh it started off alright. I got the shorts and tanks; I got the comics, even went and bought some Oreo cookies. Then I decide to go to Martinez’ Restaurant and grab some nachos to go. Martinez is right across the street for the Credit Union so it’s all in one quick motion. Except that after I get my food from Martinez I decide to swap out the food for my wallet, which I have placed in the trunk of my car, since I have no pockets in my sweats. Shut the trunk and go to get into front seat. No keys. I done locked my damn keys in the trunk (yeah, “I done”). But, no problem. I have the ’07 Nissan Sentry (paid off, might I add) with the smart lock. It will not allow you to lock your keys inside you vehicle. That is what they tell me when I purchase the damn thing.
Well, I’ll be damned if it want. The trunk doesn’t open. Hey, maybe I actually dropped the keys in the restaurant and that is why the trunk isn’t opening. The keys are not in the trunk, they are in the restaurant . Like shit they ain’t. So now am pissed, because not only are the keys in the trunk but the cell phone is sitting in the front seat, smiling at me. I just hear it saying, “I bet your ass want saying nothing else negative about cell phone on your blog, fucker.”
Whatever, at least I have my wallet. I cross over to the Credit Union and there is a courtesy phone on the wall as soon as I walk in. Thank you, God. Seriously, with the invent of cell phones it is hard as hell to phone payphones anymore. I asked the lady at the front desk if I can use it. She says yes and I have to call my mom, whose is the only number (besides my own) that I know by heart.
Me: Hi mom.
Mom: Hi, baby. How you doing?
Me: Not good. Mom, do you have Neil’s number?
Mom: I sure do baby. Hold on while I get it for you.
Me: Thank you mom. (Waiting impatiently like the jerk I am when frustrated)
Mom: (a couple of minutes in) Be patient with me, son. I got a lot of stuff here to go through.
Me: I don’t have any choice be to be patient with you, mom. I’m locked out of my car.
Mom: Okay, baby. (My mom is so damn nice. That’s where I get it from. LOL) Okay, I got it baby, let me call him for you.
Me: No, mom. Just give me the number so I can call him myself, please.
Mom: Oh, okay baby. You ready?
She gives me the number. I write it down; with the pen I borrowed from the Credit Union lady. Thank my mom and call Neil. Neil is the only one of the three people who has a copy of my house key, that I think might answer the phone. First try no answer. Second try I get him, but he has a group coming into the hospital so he can’t get to me. However, he has the bright idea to call the dealership and make their happy asses come let me in my car. Can you do that? I didn’t know, but it was worth a shoot since I didn’t want to spend the money on a fucking locksmith.
Call the dealership first time, explain my situation. Get told I am going to be transferred. Wait impatiently while the music plays and literally every fucking minute various recorded voices come on to let me know that my call is very important to them, thanking me for my patience and letting me know one of their friendly customer service representatives would be with me as soon as they damn well please. I must have stood there listening to that bullshit for about five minute before the shit hung up in my face. Oh, hell naw! So luck I am in a public place, because I wanted to go ballistic. I am now madder than a pit-bull with a heroin addiction. I call back, maintain my composure and speak to another representative. He finds the number to Nissan’s Roadside assistance. It took him forever, but he was polite. He lets me know that I will need my VIN number, so I had to go back across the street and write it down. I dial that number and go through that animated process. As I am waiting for them to confirm my information and send me out some help, guess who walks in.
Sgt. Lupe. I had never been so happy to see somebody in my whole life. She stayed with me and we sat in the air conditioning of her Hummer until Roadside assistance showed. I love me some Sgt. Lupe. She’s my angel. She was the only bright spot in a totally suck ass day.
Anyway, so there you have it. One long ass post detailing my rotten day. I am truly hopping that his is not precursor to how my vacation is going to go. I’ll take lots of pictures and put them up for you good people to see. Maybe.
Love Ya. Mean it.
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.