today i dropped off helmut-the-car for his overdue tune-up: the engine light had been on for a week until i nearly drained the battery over the weekend, resulting in a sluggish engine for the first 2 minutes, and, hey hey! no more engine light! still, we needed to see if any evil was afoot, especially since we spend an average of 24 hours/month on the highway of death.
so i sat there in the waiting room, not knowing that i was at that very moment being viciously sodomized right in the wallet*, bored out of my skillet and looking for something to read when a third hand romance novel peeked shyly from under a pile of shiny toyota porn.
good god, what shit! if my bosoms heaved every time mr. monkey walked in the room, i would be a broken woman with an oxygen tank. the smouldering passion unleashed at the slightest look would leave us jobless and soon homeless, but hey, we'd be thrusting throbbing juicy bits of each other into other juicy bits of each other under a bridge somewhere, hopefully unaware of the broken bottles and dirty diapers under our undulating flesh. sheesh. ridiculous. or perhaps i've been married too long. you decide.
*200$ to tell me that the engine light was on because my fuel cap wasn't on tight enough, when, upon reading my manual, the very first thing we did was tighten the goddamn fuel cap. 200$ buys a lot of sippy cups, my friends, and a lot of wine. grrrrrr.