freaky friday

Friday, May 18, 2012

my morning started off as 10s across the board. no school today! i got to walk the girls into their classrooms! i got to catch up with some of my mom friends who i never get to see! very shortly, i'll be with my college lovelies!

but before the clock struck 9, things got weird. first, i went to get my oil changed. i am no jftb - nobody ever taught me how to change my own oil. one time in high school i think i added some to my car (which was a diesel, and apparently those kind of cars have different rules), and i haven't attempted anything similar since. 

the oil change place is like home depot for me: usually filled with men who always feel like they can sell me stuff i don't really need. today was no exception...lots of men, and the oil change dude tried to make me get synthetic oil and fancy spark plugs. no gracias.

somewhere between watching the news and playing the always-awesome bubble game on my phone, a lady walks in. granted it was only 8:30 in the morning, but i'd say there was a good chance she'd just left the bar. she proceeds to ask for a manager, and one quickly appeared.

she then asked for a copy of her receipt from her visit last week 'for her records.' the guy asks for her card, but she doesn't want to give it to him, and he says that it's no big deal because he can just look her up by her license plates. he does, and it works.

she tells him thank you, looks at the receipt, and asks for max (who, as we will soon learn, is the guy who changed her oil). the guy says, 'sure. is everything okay? is there a problem?'

she says, 'well....' and then pauses dramatically. she literally lowers her sunglasses, turns around to make sure she has the entire waiting room's attention, and then says, '....yeah. my car broke down on me last night, and by the time the tower (one who tows, not the architectural piece of a castle) got me to the mechanic's, the mechanic told me that y'all must have forgotten to put oil in my car because there wasn't any in there.'

awkward silence...from everyone....except her. she continues, 'so....i guess i just need some explaining as to why y'all charged me for an oil change from max when i didn't actually get any oil.'

now, that is a much better explanation than i could have ever wrapped my mind around, but i do think there may have been a more discreet way to approach the situation.

when i paid, i really wanted to ask if they were sure they put the oil back in my car, but i didn't because i felt like that might be a reasonably dumb question.

when i bought my car in december, i'm pretty sure the guy was trying to teach my how to check the oil, but all i really remember is him saying, 'don't ever touch this, blah blah blah blah blah, and here's where you can plug in your iphone.'

i guess only time will tell whether or not i have oil in my car right now.

after the awkward oil change, i came home. usually the first thing i do is let browning out...not today. instead, i went into full panic mode because his room looked like someone had been bludgeoned to death. seriously.

while i stood in the doorway with my jaw on the ground, browning, happily bounced around my house checking things out, sniffing for food, tossing his ball to himself, and (this will be key later) whacking his tail against pretty much every surface of my house.

i finally got him outside and frantically called the vet. they explained to me that he simply has 'happy tail,' and given the right circumstances, his tail can quickly turn into a paint brush.


who gets happy tail? we're in the middle of a recession - what's to be happy about? the world might end in six months...he's in his twilight years...he's overweight...we're in the middle of a drought...but no! browning is unfazed by all of this and happier than ever. the vet told me that i can try bandaging it, but docking is usually the best solution.

so i did what any logical person would do - i took him to the kennel a little bit early.

i came home to clean house before leaving town, and let me tell you something. if you have ever thought about killing someone, i would highly encourage you not to do that unless you're okay with prison. plus it's fundamentally wrong.

but the sheer amount of dog-tail-blood that was splattered around my house was astounding (please go back and re-read the dark green paragraph). i spent most of the morning cleaning the splatters, and i'm pretty sure if a csi team came in, they would mock my efforts with their 20/20 vision and fancy black lights. there were splatters in places i thought were splatter-proof. i even used my floor steamer for some of it. yuck, yuck, and yuck!

alright, i'll leave you with that. but please remember the very important morals of today's stories...1) don't trust just anybody with your engine; and 2) don't kill anybody (unless you want to go to prison - and even still, i'm not condoning or suggesting that you ever do this...there are people who can help you! ).

alright, i'm off for some glorious r&r....



margaret said...

Our dog Doc suffered from happy tail, only he didn't suffer nearly as much as I did. Actually, gross as it was, I got used to wiping up the spray of blood all over the house. He was a yellow lab, the dog love of my life, and I'd take all that blood splash just to have him back. There are worse afflictions than happy tail. But it is gross. Really.

it's just me... said...

Awww - well, that gives me a fresh perspective: gross, but at least I have a happy dog (and good cleaning products)! Thanks for the comment, and thanks for reading. :)

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