Our goddamn washing machine broke. Fucking Sears. I knew it was stupid to go with Kenmore, but NO, Consumer Reports says the one we got is a "Best Buy!" so shit, you can't argue with those geniuses, right? The thing is two years old and, two days ago, it starts smelling like 'electric-burning' and then it starts making a noise like we're washing an elk. I called these local appliance guys because, well, I like to support local small businesses and because I'M A GIANT MORON. This wee, little troll of a man, complete with pungeant troll-B.O., waltzes in, turns it on and says, "Ah, you've got a burnt out tranny, right 'dere. S'gonna cost you about two-fitty. You should call Sears and see if it's still under warranty. Oh, and sorry, but I've gotta charge you 80 bucks for a service call."
Oh yeah?! Well, Stanky Troll, YOU'RE a burnt-out Tranny. Ya dick.
So I'm already out 80 beans and now we've got Sears coming out on Saturday to take the rest of our money. Of course, we didn't get the extended warranty because CONSUMER REPORTS TOLD ME NOT TO! Why do we get that fucking magazine? It gives me nothing but heartache.
And I need haircut, but I can't remember my haircutter's name. It's either "Faith" or "Hope." If I call up and ask for one, and it's really the other, I'll feel like a total douche. Wait... maybe her name is "Charity."
Shit. Maybe I'll just grow it out.