In a slight twist of serendipity recently, I found myself wheel-less. It happens sort of like when you discover that you have leukemia and three months to live when you just thought you had a belly-ache. So, the hotty 5 year old Sonata which has been sideswiped by deer, drunks and parking garage columns (they sideswiped me!!) and bumped and flooded and probably had a few neighborhood kiddies dry-hump it for good measure, went into the shop for what I thought would be a routine wheel alignment to correct the fact I had to hold on to the steering wheel for dear life to keep the thing from veering off the road. But alas! Apparently, the thing that covers all the car's vital bits had come off some time ago and the thing was rotting from the core like a sailor full of syphilis.
I had, on my hands, what my insurance company called "a total loss." Which was annoying because I had neglected to get rental insurance, and so was in the position to have to buy a car, really fast.
The good news was the insurance company thought my car was worth a helluva lot more than I did. My car had two redeeming features. It was about to be completely paid off, and it ran better than 95% of the cars in Louisiana. Had any of those agents climbed into the interior which still reeked of NOLA sewage and dog drool, I doubt I would've gotten as greedy as I did with all this cash falling into my hands. That is, instead of going for something nice and conventional, I had to buy the friggin' Volvo S40 with almost all the trappings. I did stop short of the T5, but barely.
This is an incredibly decadent move for a girl of my material sensibilities. Despite my astounding credit card debt, I am, for all purposes, a practical girl with her cash. Probably from having learned through astounding credit card debt. So, it just seems odd that I would suddenly unload so much cash on a car.
(This is the point where I gloss over the fact I paid sticker price (WITH an allowance), a fact the BF will never let me live down. I have never really figured out the car bargaining thing. I got a good deal. I think. Nah, I probably didn't.)
Anyway, it doesn't matter because I now have a car that will go fast and looks really pretty and has bluetooth and fold-down seats for the canines.
And who has managed to be a target for every massive bird gang shit happening in the greater Orleans area.
Today, I came out to be greeted with my sophisticated grey roadster covered in a massive shitting the likes of which I have never witnessed before. It was if they had attacked in a battalion. The shit punctured little white bomb craters all along the glossy veneer. In a panic, I looked around to see if I could give the bird (har har) to any remaining culprits. However, they all seemed to have fled the scene, save one - who, as I looked up at him, let loose a massize bird shit cannonball right on the door handle I was about to open.
Birds are overrated. I think we need less of them. Starting now.
The Imp Of The Perverse - Part The First
1 hour ago