I can’t really believe I’m going to tell you this story because it screams that I’M DUMB but I just ate TWO white Kit Kats so I’m all pumped up on sugar and my brain isn’t filtering correctly. Hence – you get this story that proves that some days my IQ is less than that of a tiny grasshopper.
Okay – yesterday – though the temp here dropped by 10 whole degrees – it was still 93 degrees. And remember – I’m a hottie. Meaning when other people are wearing Eskimo jackets – I’m the nimrod wearing shorts and still sweating buckets. I’m always hot.
So I get off work. I get in RAMBO’S CAR. This is a VERY VERY important detail you must remember to remember. My car is in the shop so I’m driving a car that is not my normal car. I am not familiar with this car – nor any of its features. Got that? Mmkkaayy.
I get in the car THAT IS NOT MINE. I turn the air on high. It’s sweltering hot. I don’t have far to go since I have an errand to run downtown. Still – I’m f*cking dying. I mean I’d rather have lunch with Casey Anthony and get food poisoning with no toilets within a 5 mile radius.
Another five minutes into my drive – still no cool air. Now I realize it’s only been given 5 minutes to cool down in 93 degree weather but still – there should be a teensy bit of cold air beginning to shoot out, right?
At this point, the swearing commences. Mother heifer air conditioning. I’m pushing every button on the dash. I’m turning dials. I’m more pissed by the minute. I now have all of my windows down and the air on full blast. I look like a crazy Cruella driving with hair flying white knuckling the steering wheel – chasing down spotted puppies. Minus the puppies.
It is still only blowing hot air.
I decide to drive the car off a cliff. I mean we’ve only had it for a few months and the air quits working during the record-breaking summer heat. Are you kidding me?
All the way home – I’m still pushing buttons. I’m thinking about how much it’s going to cost to fix this – meanwhile my beloved Explorer is ALREADY in the damn auto shop. Tomorrow this car will be there to join it.
I know for a fact that this means that the next day our truck will also break down. Because when it rains – it f*cking pours.
By the time I get home, I’m windblown from all the windows being down. I have sweat literally dripping down my back and through my cami. I haven’t stopped swearing.
I go in the house and I tell Rambo – “Your air doesn’t work. Look at my shirt. It has sweat marks. I’m hot. This isn’t fair. I hate cars. I want to beat the car with a sledgehammer and then take a swipe or two at your head for good measure. This sucks donkey dicks. Like bad.” I stick out my bottom lip and am pretty sure I even stomped my feet a little.
He says something about “I’m sure the truck will break tomorrow then for sure. I can’t believe it doesn’t work. Are you sure?”
Does my sweat soaked shirt prove I’m sure you dickwad? Honestly.
We do some things around the house and it’s about 20 minutes later and he has to run an errand. He’s taking his car. I say, “Have fun sweating your ass off in that Satan’s armpit you call a car. Feel free to total it while you are gone.”
He turns around before giving me a kiss goodbye and says a few words that I will hear over and over for the rest of my life.
“Are you sure you had the air turned on?”
WHAT DID YOU JUST ASK ME???
What do you mean turned on? I had the fan turned up to level 4 – as high as it would go. I had the dial turned to the color BLUE – which means cold. Nothing but hot air comes out.
Didn’t you push the button with the snowflake on it? The one that lights up when it’s on?
WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Yes – I pushed every button on your damn dash and nothing lit up.
Well, it will only light up if you have the fan on. You know - the snowflake button? The one that turns the air on?
Are you kidding me? From my line of view – behind the steering wheel – sitting up like a normal person it looks like a sun – not a snowflake. Why the hell would they use a snowflake for a picture? Snowflakes represent winter. You don’t use the air in winter. OMG – are you serious? I turned the fan off and then pressed all the buttons and nothing lit up so I turned the fan back up to high. How would the air get turned off? I never hit the snowflake button to turn it off and the air was on the last time I drove it.
Um, I drove it in between those times. I shut the air off last night when I drove it. It was nice out. No air needed. I had the windows down and music blaring. Oopsie.
That’s all you have to say? I was living in panic city thinking we had to pay for a repair on an almost new car AND I sweated enough liquid to stop an entire African village from a drought. Don’t you know that sweat is only sexy when it’s from working out?
He heard none of this. He and my daughter were too busy rolling on the floor – laughing – at their stupid wife and mother. Pointing. Giggling. Talking all kinds of smack about the woman who bitched about broken air that wasn’t even turned on.
IT’S NOT MY MOTHER-EFFING CAR!
Of course – they then went to run their errand and before they even shut the house door behind them when they got back, I heard stuff like:
Holy shit – I’m so cold from the air in the car, I should’ve worn a parka.
My God – I’m frozen. There are icicles hanging from my nose.
Dang – I’ve never been so cold in all my life. Can you turn on the furnace in the house so I can warm up?
Followed by more laughing and pointing.
Ha ha ha. So effing funny.
Douche nuggets. Both of them.
It lasted all night. I imagine it shall last a good week or so before they tire of it. And everyone I know will soon hear the story of how I bitched and moaned and sweated and cursed and panicked over air – that was never turned on.
And the pointing and laughing will continue.
I don’t particularly care. The air in HIS car works. I did not sweat on the way to work this morning. And so far – the truck still works.
When Rambo gets on his Harley today to ride for the day and plugs in his MP3 player and realizes I erased all his heavy metal songs and replaced them with all Patsy Cline and Willie Nelson old country songs – the world will be right again.