Obviously, in another life, I was some sort of murderous Hun, or something, because the gods of fucked-up-mojo are emptying their drippy bowels on me BIG TIME!
So today, I'm all set to have a nice relaxing day reading the Sunday Times, as the last of the viral-ass-demons residing in my colo-rectal habitrail hotel finally checks out and bids me a-doo. The Old Lady is on her way to the Y to work out and she gets in the Civic and tries to start it up. It's cranking really slowly and sounds horrible and barely starts. Now this is the car we just spent $650 clams fixing up a week ago, and here it is, not starting. What the shit?! She gets it running and we let it go for awhile, thinking that maybe the battery just needs to charge up a bit. Shut it off, try to start it up again. It's fucked up.
Fine. We'll deal with it later, we decide, and the Old Lady switches over to the Accord. Goes to start it up -- bupkes. Mother fucker. Both cars -- dead. As Maggie from "Caddyshack" might say, "Tat's oll I neeeed!Tenks fer NUTTIN!"
Blah, blah, we borrow or neighbor's minivan, load up a highly reluctant spawnage, and drive over to, of all places, Wal-Mart. I know! Look, we've never been there before, ever, but it was Sunday, and nothing else was open, so fuck off. We did the shame drive to Wal-Mart to buy two new batteries, hoping that that'll fucking fix it, even though I knew it probably wouldn't, but I figured we had to do something. Got the batteries, drove home.
By the way, until today, the most energy I've exerted over the last week, was picking dried vomitus off the toilet seat with my thumbnail, as my head hung limply in the commode. So, you can imagine, this day was going GREAT!
I decided to replace the Civic battery first. Got the old one out, put the new one in, and then I realized that the fucking thing was backwards. The positive terminal was where the negative should've been, and vice-versa. Now, I know you're saying, "Just turn the battery around, dipfuck!" Yeah, well fuck you, I tried that and then the hooky-on-things wouldn't reach.
Wal-Mart told me the thing would work in a 2001 Civic, and they were wrong. Sore-prize, Sore-prize, Sore-fucking-Prize!
No time for tears, though, so I switched to the Accord. Got that battery in fine, it fit, and hooked it all up. Went to start the car -- whirr-urr-urr-urr-uuuurrrrrrr... nothing. GODSHITTINGCOCKTURDS!!!!! I was so fucking pissed off, it's not even... no, actually it was funny. To everyone but me.
So I said FUCK IT and I called the local garage, who happened to be open strangely, and told them to swing the fuck by and tow the motherfucker in -- I was giving up. Half-hour later, the tow-truck comes, the dude gets out and asks for the keys. I said, "Don't bother, it's fucked up," but he grabs the keys, gets in, turns it, IT MOTHERFUCKING STARTS RIGHT THE FUCK UP! BALLS!!!! The dude says, "Yeah, I just gave it a little gas." I said, "I'll give YOU a little gas!" and then caved in his head with a tire iron.
Actually, I didn't say or do either of those things -- I just stood there like a complete and utter more-fucking-on, thumb in ass, and said, "Huh," and then paid him $40 for starting my car with my key and his foot.
So, we've got us a newly fixed car that's broken, two new batteries that we didn't need, and a local mechanic who is home telling his family that he just met the biggest fucking chunderhead of his life.
BRING IT ON, FUCKERS!!!! YOU CAN'T DEFEAT ME!!!!! I'VE BEATEN YOUR COLON-CURSE AND I'LL BEAT YOUR VEHICLE VOODOO!!!! BRING IT!!! OPEN A HELL-MOUTH UNDER MY HOUSE!!!! RELEASE SNAKES THROUGH OUR HEATING DUCTS!!!! HAVE ANOTHER CRACKER BARREL OPEN UP IN TOWN!!!! I'LL NEVER BACK DOWN, YOU HEAR ME?!?! NEVERRRRRRR!!!!!!
Okay, anything but another Cracker Barrel. I do have my limits.