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So on the way to work today a few things happened. Number 1 and most importantly, last night the right front tire decided it had seen enough. It was all, “I’ve had it, I will see you guys in Hell!” To which it promptly poked a hole in itself and slowly deflated on my ride into work. Now this would not have been too much of a problem if any of the 4 gas stations that I stopped at on the way in had their air pumps up and working.
Sunoco: Hand written sign taped over the machine “Out of order”
Citgo: Coin slot jammed with what could only be determined to be wooden skewers
Kroger: NO air pump, but it had the sign for an air pump, and a place for one to be mounted (not like that you sick freaks)
BP: Someone had cut the air hose itself, there was only about a 2 foot length of hose dangling in the cold cold wind
So, this would not have been too much of a deal if it had just been yours truly in the car all by his lonesome. Alas and alack it was not just me, it was me and a 30 pound ball of energy that goes by the name of (on this blog) Little Man.
So there I was traversing around the northwestern outskirts of Columbus with a bum tire and Laurie Berkner playing over the car stereo system for Little Man who was strapped in his seat. Each place we went to that had an un-working or non-existent air hose caused a few more utterances of expletives, much to Little Man’s glee. By the BP station he was clapping along with my tirade of foul vitriol, and giggling at the cacophonous litany of curses I was flinging with wild abandon. Laurie Berkner was, oddly enough, singing “The Biggest Monster” at that time. How apropos. It was quite the juxtaposition of sounds. My voice stringing together a… um... string of curses, Laurie’s mellifluous voice singing sweetly, and Little Man’s giggling, all in one car.
Luckily across the street from that particular BP station with the cut air hose is a Firestone Repair Center. So I limped my car across the street to their parking lot and unstrapped the 30 pound giggle box that is my son. We went in and got the car on their schedule and then walked right out of the store to walk over to his care givers. They only live about a half mile away from the Firestone. During the slow promenade from the tire store to the caregivers, Little Man wanted nothing to do with him actually walking. So I carried the struggling mass that is my child. Then I walked from their house to my work.
$250 later and now I have 2 new tires and a freshly aligned car for my driving pleasure. So that was my morning, how are you guys doing out there?
To Recap:
My 15 minute commute lasted from 8:30 to 9:15 today
50 dollars a map? On what planet?
At least it did not happen while I was traveling to pick up G-Money tomorrow in Cinci
“Him and her ask so many questions!!!”
Shout out to Seth’s mama: “Don’t let fuckers get you down!”
So what are we doing tomorrow, Brain?
Amazon.com calls Laurie Berkner the Ani DiFranco of kids' music, no wonder Wifey likes her
Sunoco: Hand written sign taped over the machine “Out of order”
Citgo: Coin slot jammed with what could only be determined to be wooden skewers
Kroger: NO air pump, but it had the sign for an air pump, and a place for one to be mounted (not like that you sick freaks)
BP: Someone had cut the air hose itself, there was only about a 2 foot length of hose dangling in the cold cold wind
So, this would not have been too much of a deal if it had just been yours truly in the car all by his lonesome. Alas and alack it was not just me, it was me and a 30 pound ball of energy that goes by the name of (on this blog) Little Man.
So there I was traversing around the northwestern outskirts of Columbus with a bum tire and Laurie Berkner playing over the car stereo system for Little Man who was strapped in his seat. Each place we went to that had an un-working or non-existent air hose caused a few more utterances of expletives, much to Little Man’s glee. By the BP station he was clapping along with my tirade of foul vitriol, and giggling at the cacophonous litany of curses I was flinging with wild abandon. Laurie Berkner was, oddly enough, singing “The Biggest Monster” at that time. How apropos. It was quite the juxtaposition of sounds. My voice stringing together a… um... string of curses, Laurie’s mellifluous voice singing sweetly, and Little Man’s giggling, all in one car.
Luckily across the street from that particular BP station with the cut air hose is a Firestone Repair Center. So I limped my car across the street to their parking lot and unstrapped the 30 pound giggle box that is my son. We went in and got the car on their schedule and then walked right out of the store to walk over to his care givers. They only live about a half mile away from the Firestone. During the slow promenade from the tire store to the caregivers, Little Man wanted nothing to do with him actually walking. So I carried the struggling mass that is my child. Then I walked from their house to my work.
$250 later and now I have 2 new tires and a freshly aligned car for my driving pleasure. So that was my morning, how are you guys doing out there?
To Recap:
My 15 minute commute lasted from 8:30 to 9:15 today
50 dollars a map? On what planet?
At least it did not happen while I was traveling to pick up G-Money tomorrow in Cinci
“Him and her ask so many questions!!!”
Shout out to Seth’s mama: “Don’t let fuckers get you down!”
So what are we doing tomorrow, Brain?
Amazon.com calls Laurie Berkner the Ani DiFranco of kids' music, no wonder Wifey likes her
3 Comments:
A fine morning in the car. All you needed was some sheep-bleating to make it perfect.
I love the glimpse of suburban life I get from your blog. The "what if" if I had listened to my family & stayed in Wisconsin, gotten married and had kids...LOL
Peefer,
Oh, if animal noises were there, it was because I was cursing in Cow or Horse. "Moo who the fuck cuts an Air Hose? Moo." Luckily whence on the family trips, Wifey doesn't barnyard it up either.
NYM,
I fail to see how your family could have made you the father of an asthmatic biracial child with severe food allergies, but there are some strange folk in Wisconsin. I think it has to do with all the cheese.
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