Jacked Up

I have realized during my 29 years on this planet that nothing can be easy. The simplest tasks have a way of snowballing into some ridiculous shit. Take this morning for example:

I overslept and left the house at 8am this morning. The shitty thing is that I should be at work at 8am, so the day was starting out badly. However, there is a silver lining - or so I thought. Traffic was pretty light and I was using the skills I picked up at the Bruce Willis School of Awesome Driving and was making excellent time. Then I heard that familiar 'pop.' That's right, I had blown the 1,347th tire in my driving career. Since this is all too common occurance, I was not too pissed off. In fact, I had a good excuse to be late now. "Yay for blowouts," I thought. I pull over to the shoulder and it is the driver's side rear, flat as my first junior high girlfriend. I popped the trunk, pulled out the spare and lo and behold, no fucking jack. Then a fuzzy memory plays on my mindscape. My ex-wife had a flat and I used my jack to change it because her's sucked ass. Then, being a lazy fuck, I just threw my jack in her trunk - where it remains to this day; 1,499 miles away. Now I was pissed. I did find a pink Game Boy Advance in the tire well though. Neat. I called a chick at work and asked her to send someone with a jack.

About 30 minutes later a coworker pulls up and hey, he's got not one, but two jacks. Yahoo for school, yahoo for me! Problem: Both jacks are for trucks and would not fit under my car. What the fuck? Both of them? Yes. So we got in his truck and cruised down to Wal-Mart and I bought a jack. By the time I got back to the car, it had been 90 minutes since the blowout. I changed the tire in record time, due to being scared shitless thanks to coworker man. He tells me he is frightened of all the 18-wheelers flying by us at 80 mph. However, I am about 7 feet from the trucks as he stands 30 yards from the road. He says, "remember that COPS where the dude is slammed while he's giving a ticket?" Thanks dude, I really need to hear that while I am a pubic hair's width from the white line. I get it done and the spare is only half-flat (I'm an optimist).

I go back to Wal-Mart to get two new tires. Who needs this shit again? I found someone who knows less about cars than I do - unfortunately, it was the clerk who was to sell me the tires. I did get the tires put on 75 minutes later and rolled into work a nice 3 hours late. As the man said, "I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue."