Confessions of a One-Track Mind

I didn't even finish replying to my email (though I did check my bank balance) before the skies opened up: it started raining mullets and mackrel and marlin, oh my---and thundering and lighning besides. So I shut down the computer and made some calls. W*M, bless their corporate hearts, will ONLY sell you whatever tires are originally listed as having come on your car. The wholesale club hung up on me, and the tire shop down the road ONLY had new tires that were roughly double what I was prepared to pay.

Once the rain tailed off for a bit, I ended up at the used tire place down on Blake Ave.---it's been a few years since I've availed myself of their products, and I got a pair of Bridgestones in nearly new condition for $60, installed. AND they aired up my front tires as well, and were kind enough to let me run down to Winn-Dixie for cash, cuzz otherwise it would've cost more. Good car-ma, boys!

Filled up my tank, cuz I was down to a quarter of a tank, which isn't enough to run back and forth to Melbourne five times. I did the math, though---I get just under 34 MPG, so it could be worse. I'll have to check to see how the new tires influence that.

Then, a half-block from home---and it was raining again pretty sincerely by then---I noticed that the guy who runs a lawn service and lives in the R's old house was out there, in the rain, weed-whacking. I'm not crazy, just a little desperate---I jumped out of the car and begged him to come look at my place. Told him I have to get it mowed by next week cuz they're taking me to court, and he's coming by in a while...if his prices are semi-reasonable, I'll hire him to mow monthly (whether it needs it or not). The R's place, which used to be no-frills weeds, is now one of the best looking homes on the block, and I could use a dose of that!

I'm very happy that I don't have to drive to Melbourne today, although the local weather report suggests tomorrow will be just as bad.

I had pretty good numbers today, thanks to a tasty Posh Brits order I took early on. My numbers for the Butch Boots sales contest are total shit; I think I've taken *maybe* three orders from them all week. Maybe. I'm selling the hell out of Fit-nazis (whom I loathe, as witness the pseudonym) and Tasteful Lady, though. Trendicrap has been quiet, and there's been a lot more wizmo than anything else.

Had yet another one of those "Our shipper says it was delivered today/Oh! It's on my front porch!" calls. Had someone whose order was left by the shipper and the box was chewed open by someone's dog. I giggled hugely over "The dog ate my flip-flop!" Severe weather in Kentucky (warehouses) has delayed some orders, and we're eating shipping on quite a few of those.

Oh, and another moment of hysteria came about when a gent called in on Posh Brits asking how he could exchange the boxers he received from his fiance---they were too big, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Occasionally, I do NOT resist temptation. In my best Jeevsian manner, I said, "Well, sir, you might say to her that you feel flattered to know that she thinks of you as a big man."

He chuckled, and the gal sitting next to me turned around, wide-eyed, and lost it. (I can crack her up without even trying. Some night, I'm going to see if I can get her to fall out of her chair outright. I think I can do it....)

Less of a laughing matter is the case of the 15 year-old who jacked her mom's credit card and placed an order for a pair of custom boots. It was an online order sent from a school computer, and she had the boots shipped to a friend's house. They are non-returnable; the website is plastered with cautions about their non-returnability...the only thing mom can do at this point is press charges. Jeepers fuck, at that age, I pilfered my dad's pocket change once in a while...a couple quarters for the Coke machine, maybe---I wouldn't have dreamed of going into his wallet for folding money, much less a credit card. What is the younger generation coming to?!
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Car du jour:
(Yesterday, actually) A pale canary yellow Cougar from the 60s. '63-'64, thereabouts....

Speaking of cars, I did the math on my mpg this evening: 32.? mpg (I'm not sweating the decimals---it averages about 1.5 gallons a day, but that didn't include the little bit of local driving I've done in my time off.)

Tee shirt:
On the back of the shirt, over a picture of Dub-ya: Like a rock!
Under the picture: Only dumber