Ok, so after I typed these entries, I find that Google.com's renaming of Blogspot.com to Blogger just became manditory, and it can't find my account. I can go to my page, so its still there, but I can't log in to modify it. I pressed reset password and it asked for my account site. I entered it and it sends me an email, but Google Chrome can't open Hotmail, because the McDonald's Wifi connection gives it the willies. I open it with Firefox, but it is "undergoing maintenece". I finally get it to load, and click the link, to reset my password, and it says it needs to resend the email. I do it, and click the link again, I have to make my passowrd stronger than it was so people can't steel my blog. While all this is happening, I go out for a drink, and I notice that the truck topper lock linkage is now completely boken off, along with a peice of the castic that hold the entire mechanism together. It reminds me of a bad day I had a few years ago, I'll try to find the file, its from 5/26/2006. Here it is, enjoy:
The power went out last night so the phone didn’t charge and the alarm clock didn’t go off. My girlfriend assumes it’s my fault and proceeds to rant at great length until I leave. On my way to give a presentation for my final exam at a picnic, I run into some buddies, and we take a smoke break, and drink the rest of this girl's $2.50 wine and my $.75 tall boy. I got a B on the presentation, and some guy asked us if we wanted some munchies. I grabbed a can of pork and beans and they grabbed some pretzels. On my way home, I got pulled over for having a bad registration sticker on my plate. Turns out, my renewal card never caught up with my moving after I pad my property taxes. So I go to the court house to get a copy of my property tax receipt, and go to the DMV to get a new card, but they say my Insurance card is bad (even though it says, "valid for 30 days after expiration"). So I go to my insurance lady, and she says she can't print out a new card, because my last payment bounced. So, I go to my bank, and sit in the drive through for the better part of a Grateful Dead CD, when the bank lady says the computer down, I have to go to another branch. So, I go. The guy there says that my landlord cashed his check twice. WTF? He says it cleared up, but the money wouldn't be back in the account 'till the next day. I go home to get my stereo to pawn off, and my now-ex-girlfriend flips the f out 'cos I didn't runt he darned sweeper. I put the pawn shop money in the bank, and I'm back at the insurance office. I tried to use my card, but it wasn't activated yet, so, after I take two finals and drink a 24oz, I activate the card, go to the insurance office for the third time, get the car, and go back to the DMV. I get a new license plate and a temporary registration card. Now, force of habit takes me from the DMV to the nearby liquor vender, I notice hours late that the douche bag shorted me like $.68 in change. I've got insurance, registration, and exactly $12.66 left, so why not finally get my car inspected. I'm in the waiting room for two hours, and the turbo-skank who got there first wouldn't let me watch anything else beside the Tyra Banks show. Meanwhile, my phone rings and the cell phone company says there check bounced. I explained the bank situation to 'em, and they said that I had to have the bill paid in the next hour, or they would penalize me. I hauled it back over the pawn shop with my 27" TV in a K-mart shopping cart, through the worst of my city. I pay the bill, the phone rings, my car's done. I failed. I need a brake light, tie rod ends, tires, and a spring or two. I headed off to a cheaper garage across town. I haven't eaten all day so I go through Rally’s and use all of my coupons. I'm just about to pull away, when a state trooper nabs me for the rejection sticker. I'm in the process of moving wearing a nasty wood stain covered t-shirt and a Smokey the bear headband. The cop sees this, my 9$ worth of fast food in two bags, birdseed in seats from a previous fiasco, a pile of papers topped of with a ticket for bad registration, a bottle of 6$ vodka, and two pawn claim check in my shirt pocket. "Sir, I'm gonna need you to step out of the car." I tell my story, but he and the two other cars that arrived search my car until all of my food is cold except the milkshake. They finally let me go with a warning for my sticker, but I have to come into the regional office to prove I fixed it. After I find a gas station that'll accept a bad check, I go on to the garage. They say the parts need to be ordered. I call Advance, tell 'em I'm the son of the chief mechanic at the dealership I went to earlier (thank goodness for that Christmas card still on the wall), and I need the parts PDQ. He delivers them from a store 40 miles away, to the garage I'm at as a personal favor. I write another bad check for the work, and on my way to City Hall to get out of my registration ticket, I find my Birthday card from my grandma in my trunk. Cha-ching, the cops must have unearthed it. I swing by the pawn shop, pick up my stuff, and get out of my ticket. Because I was moving, I had the roof rack on the car, so I couldn't get my antenna up, without getting out of the car, so its just me and Jerry Garcia, stuck in two hours of stopped interstate traffic next to the sewer plant. It smelled worse than it did when Burger King came out with the Fiesta Whopper; Ole! I finally make it to the state police barracks, and the dick thinks my sticker's fake. He even picked the corner of it off. I show him my paper trail, and he said he'd take car of it. Oh, crap! I'm late for picking my girlfriend up at work. I book it back to town. She harassed me all the way to her mom's house, but, since I'd been nipping vodka and Gatorade since 9:00 that morning, it didn't really bother me. I dropped her off and got harassed by her mom and step dad until the phone rings. My education professor says that I did so bad on my final, I have to take it over again, now. I put another 8 miles on the car getting back to school for a daily total of 96 miles. I have to get an A on this test to pass the class/stay on schedule for graduation/keep my financial aid, etc. The test was on the one page of my book that happened to still be in the car from a Dr. Pepper explosion. I read it on the way over. I aced the test and headed over to mow the neighbors grass. I kept doing yard and roof work till about 9:30pm. Back to another liquor store with my fresh wad of cash. I made it to the check out at exactly 9:59 (within .06 sec. of the atomic clock at the Naval observatory in Greenwich). I head back over to my girlfriend’s mom’s house, and commence the mass genocide of my brain cells. Apparently there was some confusion about how she was getting home. I was told to wait there, while she had her mom drop her off. So I go home, sleep 3 hours, wake up, make up, break up, and head out for some breakfast. I found the can of pork and beans under my seat. A perfect end to a perfect day.
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