( Read more... )

Long story short: I didn't get to see Paul because a bicycle fell on my head while I was looking for my wallet. Schwinn Breeze. Vintage. It's tasted blood now.

( Read more... )

It worked perfectly on the way home tonight.

It is just fucking with me.

Not Bennet, Walton. I always get that wrong ( Read more... )

Car hood started spewing vapor when I pulled into the garage at work. So I called Bill (NOT Matt, fuck you, Matt) from the office, and have to take it out to Bennet before 11:00 so someone is there to give me a ride back ( Read more... )

"We just need one liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitle hose, but it'll be done tomorrow."

He had the grace to sound contrite this time.

This has become downright Becketty.

It must be me! It must be my fault! Me, with my shrewish way of calling him every two or three days and asking how my car is in that nagging tone! Oh, curse my harpy-like temperament! Why can I not be kind and logical and patient???

Good God. I went out at lunch and bought a Self-Pity Special (latte w/a shot of syrup). I haven't done that in 10 years.

If I die, I want y'all to fight out in the backyard for my stuff.

"We're just finishing it up."

"So...?"

"Give us a call tomorrow afternoon, see if it's done."

I fucking hate you, Matt.