“You are on your deathbed, you confess to a dozen murders, then get better”

Ah, fun, fun, fun, that is sooo not freaking fun.

Today is the first day back to school for most students, and for the students at my college, the first day of winter quarter. New classes.

So, this morning I crawled out of bed while it was still dark, got all pretty-- fluffed my hair, painted in my eyebrow, and wore clean jeans all tight from the dryer. I was looking good. Had my book bag all packed with necessary schoolish stuff, had my keys and was out the door.

Sound familiar? Okay, for some of you men, not the tight pants bit, but things were smooth. You’d think Firefly would have taught me a lesson. Smooth is not a good sign.

Out to the car and the Mazda’s doors wouldn’t open. Okay, I can deal. It’s cold, my car doors are always freezing. I yank and pull, kick and pull, curse and pull. Then I yank, curse, kick, curse, pull, curse, then sit and curse. The primitive woman spoke out loudly though the cursing.

“Need stick.”

Whooo! I’m a genius. I grabbed a crowbar from the basement, pried a bit, then pulled a bit and go me, the door opened. Just a little kicking from the inside opened the drivers door.

Me--“Doors open?”

Me--“Check.”

Me--“Next step.”

Me--“Key goes in the ignition. I’ll turn key. Car supposed to start.”

Me--“You’re smart.”

Me--“Thank you.”

I’m not missing something am I? Because that’s what I did, and there was no car startage.

The engine turned over twice, and then it whined at me. I tried again, this time there was less turning and more whining. I called my mom and let her hear what the car sounded like. Then I tried again just for fun. Another time for luck. I had a strange feeling so I tried again. Still with the whining. Then I called my dad and let him hear it once. I tried with the doors open, with them shut. I waited until I thought the car let down it’s guard and quickly tried. No go.

Great. I’m already five minutes late to my first class with a new proof, and my car is playing dead.

Goddamned bastard battery.

So, I grab the little black box from the garage that’s the battery recharger thing. We call it the trickle thing. I plugged it into the wall then went to open the hood.

It didn’t move. Okay, attack of dumb blonde. I forgot to pull the little lever in the car for the hood to open. D’oh. Pulled lever, tried to open hood. Still, not opening. There was a short fit of yanking, cursing, pulling, cursing, kicking and cursing similar to the earlier door situation before inner cave woman spoke to me again.

“Need stick.”

Can do. I grabbed my handy crowbar and pried away. Whooo! Hood open! Now I’ve got two wire thingies with metal crab claws on the ends, one red, one black.

Way back a long time ago I learned the right way to do this. There is supposed to be an order and I made up some logical reasoning for that order so I would remember.

“Red doesn’t seem like it should go first, so it does.” Occasionally I mix this up and it becomes, “black doesn’t seem like it should go first, so it does.” But, due to the lack of crazy sparks and death or whatever horrid thing is supposed to happen when you do it wrong, I believe I got it right.

Now I’m half an hour late, my nose is all red, my fluffy hair is frizzy, my tight pants have frost and engine goo on them, and I have to wait for the car to charge up. Fun, fun. On top of that I got a check up call from my dad to make sure I didn’t kill myself, and was told not to tried to start the car for awhile because I might flood the engine. Hummmm…. whoops.

Oh, and #firefly keeps kicking me.

And to keep with the fun, fun, fun, here’s a fun site that I can relate to. Today ranks just bellow finding out that there’re big worms in your eyes. 1,452 something dolors.