Slip sliding away
2004-01-29 at 6:18 p.m.
There's a new ice rink in town. It's called my driveway.
Today when I left to go get E from school, I pulled out into the driveway and stopped the car to shut the garage door. Just as I was exiting, my 6,000 pound vehicle, in park and with the emergency brake engaged, began to slip down the driveway. This brought back memories of a horrific accident (a couple of you remember) from May 3, 1990, when my car slipped out of gear and dragged me down a steep hill for 25 feet.
Luckily for me, my car, my kids and the car parked across the street from me, I was able to stop the car before it got away from me.
I had to pull out of the driveway, park on the street and walk up the side of the yard where the snow had not yet refrozen so I could shut my garage door.
NOTE TO SELF: Put garage door opener on top of list of things to buy
Coming home, I had to do the same thing, but this time, I used the 4WD to get up my Goddamned driveway.
Have I ever mentioned how much I detest ice, snow, sleet and winter? As I skated along the death trap known as my side yard and driveway, I cursed the day I ever left sunny southern California.
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It happened again. A solicitor came to my door. I'd hate to be an old fart and have a "no solicitors" sign on the door, or a redneck and have a "We shoot every third salesmen and the second one just left" type of sign, but things are getting desperate.
This time the violator was named, "Chrith". I'm assuming this would have translated into "Chris" had one of my gay friend been along to translate. Chris said he was an independent business owner involved in a contest. He sold meat out of the back of his van, similar to "Swan's".
I asked, "Do you mean SCHW@N'S??"
"Uh, yeah that's the one... "
He then told me he sells all the time to my neighbor down the street. I asked which neighbor. He pointed down the street to G!nger's house.
"What are their names?" I asked.
"Ummmm... I don't know"
I didn't think so...
Anyway, Chrithhhhh was thelling juithy thteaks out of the back of hith van and if I buy thome, he'll win a contetht!!
I'm all for free enterprise, but who on god's green fucking earth would buy meat out of the back of a van, from a quack going door to door?
"Why yes, Chrith! I've been wanting to contract e-coli poisoning! You arrived just in time!"
Why can't people leave me the hell alone? If I want meat, maintenance free vinyl siding, a security system, a fence or Jesus himself, I know where to go to obtain these items.
Maybe that's the sign I should get:
WELCOME! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!