The Seventh Day of Christmas

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a dead car battery. Good thing it isn’t cold. Oh shit, nevermind, it is infinity below zero. Well slap my ass and call me Susan. Guess we’ll have to break out the old jumper cables, no big deal. I paid extra for the heavy gauge wire so they’d last forever and never fray. You don’t want to scrimp on jumper cables. Wait, when we sold our previous car my wife left the jumper cables in the trunk because she thought “they came with the car”. Nice parting gift, sweetie. Things could be worse, at least I’ve got AAA. I don’t have AAA. Fuck a duck. Now we have to call a tow service to jump the car. Let us moisten this $65 jump fee before we stick it in you. $65 for 2 minutes of work, which means they are billing at $1,950/hour. Good work if you can get it. Later the same day I signed up for AAA like an old man, which cost me $66 for the year + spouse. Or if you are counting at home, that is the price of the jump we just paid for, + $1. My one grandpa is spitting mad in his grave, the other just turned the Golf Channel up louder so he can’t hear me. Both children of The Great Depression and neither would have time for insolent grandsons who fail to prepare for even the most basic of life’s problems. Now we’re off (please note: I was at work, my wife dealt with 99% of this. Everything but the AAA sign-up which was a harrowing 5 minutes of Internet clicking) to the mechanic’s shop to get a new battery and any other sandpaper gloved handjobs they have in store for us. We’d been told the battery was on its last leg prior to today but we decided to wait until this coming Friday to get it fixed in rural Ohio because that would save money and we’re smart. This strategy obviously paid off as we are now getting all the work done where it costs $10,000 to get a look, another $20,000 if you want to touch it, plus the jump just to limp it over there. At least we’ve got no other purchases to make this month, the most frugal time of the year. The silver lining is that I spent autumn hoarding booze so I’m prepared for such eventualities.

A lesser man might say some shit such as, “Thankfully this happened at home and not a mall parking lot” or “I am relieved it was in our own garage and we were close to a mechanic shop instead of a rest stop in northern Indiana”. Fuck that, I want to bitch now. This sucks and I have it so horrible that I can’t even comprehend other people and their problems at the moment. Me me me me me, woe is me. I cannot fucking believe the entire universe is shitting directly on my head right now. There are basically starving people in Third World countries, Cleveland sports fans, and us when it comes to poor, miserable and oppressed groups who are cosmically fucked for all time. Dead car battery a week before the car battery was scheduled to be replaced, in the frigid cold, with no jumper cables. No one gives a half of one shit about the heat, food and beds inside the house. We’re pissed about the dead car in the garage. If anyone reading this hasn’t shopped yet for me…..I need more booze. And some jumper cables. Oooh, also one of those cool vinyl folder jackets for all my AAA materials set to arrive in the mail in 10-14 days. Man that would fucking rock. Tow truck driver: “Do you have AAA?” Me: “Hmmm, I don’t know, let me check in my glove compartment, just a moment….wait, what is this? It is my FUCKING AAA VINYL PORTFOLIO, READ ‘EM AND WEEP TOWIE! HAHAHAHAHA!”. Man that will be so freakin’ sweet. It is Christmas season, cut me some slack already:

A lone long pube on the gym shower wall
WHAM!’s “Last Christmas”
A Disney movie full of princesses
A simultaneously puking yet wild-as-shit toddler
A two-day hangover at age 35 and an
Arctic blast right up the ass

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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