2003-12-27 @ 11:10 p.m.
what the ceramic hands of Jesus didn't do

Fuck. Did you hear me car gods? Fuck, fuck, fuck. I have $200 in the bank. I have no credit cards. I have no rich uncles or handsome boyfriends with deep pockets. My car is a rusting carcass with three old tires and one new tire I bought last Christmas because it was totally bald. I just got an oil change at Wallyworld, but they were history once I rounded a corner and my car locked up and the tie rod ripped out of its holder.

Did I say fuck yet? Ok...fuck!

The repair, if its anywhere over about $100, which it probably will be, isn't really worth doing, because of the age and condition of the car. Its a piece of shit. It's my piece of shit true. And it gets me places. Pokingly. But it has 130,000 miles on it. It has holes rusted through the floorboards. You can nearly put your thumb through where the hood latch is located.

I used to be able to get help from my Dad in the old days. But then when he hooked up with the filippino mail order whore, that ended. And then I filed for bankruptcy a couple of years ago and can't charge anything.

So, lets see, I haven't said fuck in at least the last 30 words, so let's renew our commitment to do so...about here so....F-U-C-K.

And I was on my way to a party with my mom's elderly friends. I knew it was going to be a blast. More gift giving. And receiving. I got that much anticipated white ceramic hands of Jesus statue I've been waiting for. Don't be scoping out my house to fucking steal it now.

Did I mention I have a sinus headache that would bring down a moose? My congestion has turned truly ugly. I have such a severe headache I can barely see out of one eye. And my corresponding ear is completely clogged up and hurting.

Oh wait....I feel another fuck coming on....ya ready?

FUCK!!

Ok...better.

So after having my car towed to this garage... that I know nothing about...that was closed, a guy from the party drove me there. He was the only other "youngster" in the crowd. He's my age, 45. He dates a woman who is 62. He's nice and all, but as we were waiting for the tow truck, I got kind of a weird vibe from him. Like we were on a date or something.

He's very shy and always kind of glances sideways at me during all these elderly parties. Even though he is happily dating this older lady, I think he thinks if I give him attention, he's cool. This only has to be because he has incredibly low self esteem. His last girlfriend was a junkie. This girlfriend is a considerably older. I think he is a little skewed emotionally.

So we're sitting in the car. I was doing most of the talking. Mostly manic shit. Oh my car. What am I going to do? I don't have any money...

And just when you think things can't get any worse, up drives my mom. She pulled right up to my car window.

"Did you call AAA?"

"No Mom, I'm having a date with Alf here, do ya mind?"

"Is your car broken?"

"No, I made a new parking space on the highway off ramp"

"Can I take you somewhere?"

"No, Alf is helping me here. Why don't you go onto the party. I'll be there in a few minutes."

And then I rolled up the window while she was still talking. As usual, she couldn't figure out how to roll up her window. Yes, these things are so perplexing.

The tow truck finally came and we (Alf and I) both had to jump over a low guard rail and we're both short and Alf yells out, "Oh, my balls", while maneuvering the metal divider.

"Oh Christ" I thought, now I'm going to be responsible for this guy's balls too.

By then the cops were there directing traffic around my vehicle which was spewing liquids. But the AAA guy got the car hoisted with little difficulty and they brought it to this nearby place. I felt kind of funny leaving it someplace that was closed.

Yeah, here's my car. Bye now.

So Alf drove me on back to the party and belched on the way. And I was thinking, ya know. I think there IS a reason I'm not thrilled about the prospect of dating the general male population. I've been with this guy for a mere 25 minutes and he's already mentioned his balls and belched in my presence. I don't like that.

I wasn't scared when he mentioned his balls or anything. It just made me feel awkward. And then after the party, I knew he wanted to hug me goodbye, and I know I should have, since he was nice to me and all, but I just couldn't. Sorry Alf. Go hug, your girlfriend.

So yeah, I may be a selfish bitch, denying this lad a scrumptious wittykitty hug-o-rama, but I guess we can also blame an incredibly taxing combination of deep distress about the car, my continuing ill health, or maybe even that incredibly tacky ceramic hands of Jesus thingie that I will have to keep hidden until my mom's friend visits.

So pray for me kids. Maybe I can sell those Jesus hands on E-Bay. Yeah, that's it....ehhh...

Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty