February 12th, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

(no subject)

This week I've got a Sex Kitten and a Nice Jewish Girl with an adorable Brit boy-toy in tow crashing in various dogbaskets around Château Bimbeaux.

Curious to time a trip to New Orleans the week before Mardi Gras, but any time I get the honor of shackin' up with this passle of pussies is okay by me!

I've been annoyingly sick for the last week or so (though not so annoyingly sick that I'll annoy you with tired details of it). Last night the silly little fever broke, so I'm good to go (read: par-tay) — as long as I try to keep some semblance of restraint about me. Not too easy with these crazy bitches, so I'll just try to be as boring as a Mormon and as stalwart as the Amish, even in the face of Extreme Fun.

Meanwhile, across the industrial canal:
My little car has been in the shop for — jeezooey, almost two months now. It needed brakes. It needed a carbeurueeurateuerur (remember those?). It needed a clam splaff some thread baskets, a distinguisher, and a bunch of other car terms I know not what they mean.

I was told that the little monster is finally ready to go, so The Boyfriend drove me over there, I paid my ticket ("If I pay in cash and your paperwork mysteriously disappears, what kind of discount can you give me? Oh? Yes? Great, that'll do nicely."), and began the little jaunt across town to take my little monster home.

Somewhere around the French Quarter, it was backfiring so much I couldn't get it above second gear. I'm no mechanic, but I know that a car's not supposed to run like that. Nor is it supposed to fill the interior of the car up with fumes and have smoke trailing out of the engine. No sir! No flies on me! I took it right back to the shop!

"André! This car is not ready! CLEARLY it needs a new set of postulators, a tweaking of the old muffelettas, and it probably needs its callipygian anti-fleecers adjusted as well, if I'm not mistaken."

I felt kinda bad. My little monster has had André stumped for weeks. He sighed heavily. "Call me tomorrow, I'll see what I can find."

I miss my little monster. I want it back. I'll even forego the expense and time needed to have new positronic valve liberateurs installed. Just so long as the thing can get allllll the way up to, say, third gear? Is that so much to axe?