Inner monologue and subsequent results…
Paying for wears at various retailers…
Inner monologue: They’re gonna ask me for my email to put on their stupid email list that I’ve unsubscribed from a dozen times. Don’t give it to them. It’s just marketing. They don’t need it.
Person working at store: Great, now can I have your email so we can send you a receipt?
IM: It’s not for receipt purposes!! It’s marketing! DON’T DO IT!
Me: Sure! It’s…..[inthesaddle]@[email.com].
PWAS: Great! Thanks!
IM: Sucker.
Five days later, have more emails from retailers than friends. This is not good. Unsubscribe. Unsubscribe. Unsubscribe. Unsubscribe.
This, after the glorious week of all 70s and sun, all the time. Bye bye, nice weather…hello colder and colder Chicago temperatures.
Whitney Houston’s “Didn’t We Almost Have it All?” is going through my head right now.
I give up.
Have you ever realized that sometimes, the effort you put into something—a situation, a job, a person—is just not worth what you’re getting out of it? It can be sad when that realization comes to the forefront, especially if it’s something you really wanted to work.
I never like giving up on things…people specifically…but sometimes it just calls for it. You can’t force something to work if there isn’t equal effort or interest coming in. And I suppose the worst part, for me anyway, is the time I then spend wondering what I did wrong or could have done better.
But I guess…one just has to move on.
Oh well.
p.s.
The cliched answer to 25 is like, Madonna or something, for obvious reasons…
As well…a dood…because…well, I’d like to know what it’s like to have a peen. Seriously!
MORE MORE!
Oh yeah. The guy was utterly embarrassed and apologetic. They’re totally going to fix the damage they did on their dime. The guy’s a really good guy and has worked on my car a couple times now.
The catalytic converter, however, is why the check engine light was on, so it’s our problem. And a problem, it is. Sigh.
ha. ha. haha. hahaha. hahahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA!
The car’s check engine light has been on since Thursday. I took it in this morning, after Jonny and I made a pact that we wouldn’t spend more than x amount of money on our ever-increasingly-problematic little Subaru and just take a few months to save up and buy/lease a different car.
Ha. Haahaaaaha.
That’s the least of our worries.
See, the garage called me.
Ring ring.
Me: Hello?
Mechanic: Hi Alison, this is [mechanic]…
Me: Oh hey, how are you?
Mechanic: Well, I’ve never been more nervous in my life…
That is not a good start.
What happened was, the tech who had been looking at my car mistakenly pressed the gas instead of the brake and rammed the back of our car into a pole. That’s right. INTO A POLE. Yes, that’s correct; THE GARAGE WRECKED MY CAR!
Fan. Tastic.
Oh, and we need to replace the catalytic converter. Safe to say that that’s gonna cost weeeeeeeell over our measly cap.
So…bye bye, little Subaru. The garage is going to fix you to the best of their ability, but I think we might ditch you after that. You’ve been quite excellent up until a year or two ago (when we took you to a supposedly highly-rated garage that was interestingly cheap but also seemed to stir up all sorts of other issues that hadn’t been issues before we took you there…hmmmmmmmmm). You are the best in the snowy winters. You have carried drums and keyboards and amps and guitars to and from and back again. And now we will take you home with your sickly little converter and drive you into the ground. Cuz it’s all we can do at this point.
Ha. Hahahahahahahaha.
Oy.
Well, I made it out ‘til 9:30!
Considering I had surgery four days ago, I think that’s pretty good, no?
Forget the fact that I can’t yet eat normal meals and didn’t really realize that…it was a great half of a night with our dear friends, Matt and Laura. Unfortunately, this new system of mine reared its ugly head and I got tired and felt like…well…there could be problems. Thus. We went home.
Now it’s Jonny and I, in sweats, watching the boxed set of The West Wing (courtesy of Matt and Laura….thanks, guys!). Kind of the same as any other night of the year. Except this night will turn into 2011.
And 2011 will be great. It WILL be. I know it.
Happy New Year, my friends and loved ones.
And then this happened…
I squatted to give Jessa a treat this morning and heard a rip.
Mm-hmmm.
Hole in the jeans. Inner thigh style.
Eh, I’m still wearing ‘em.
