Yay, Aimee. What was wrong with it?
I tried to nap, and couldn't, because this apartment make different sounds than my old one.
Color me crankyish.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Yay, Aimee. What was wrong with it?
I tried to nap, and couldn't, because this apartment make different sounds than my old one.
Color me crankyish.
Flat tire on the way home. Bah. Changed (relatively) easily. Yay. Will need new tire tomorrow. Bah. Will not have scary tire blowout on the way to Cleveland this weekend. Yay.
People, I HIGHLY recommend that you buy and then keep in your trunk two things that you really need if you get a flat: WD-40 and a rubber mallet. They're inexpensive and they're the only way we got the tire off. The WD-40 got the lug nuts loose, and the mallet got the tire off.
Go, purchase them. If you have a flat some day, you will thank me.
Even with the WD-40, all the wrenching and yanking did a number on my shoulder. Bah. And now I'm missing a get-together-and-drink-at-a-dive-bar event I had been planning on going to, because I just don't want to drive on the donut. Bah.
But, all in all, it was easy to change and I didn't lose my shit, which I normally do in stressful situations. This "ther-a-peeee" and ADs must really be working. Huh.
Yay, Teppy, Conqueror of the Stubborn Flat!
Go, Teppy, with the automotive skillz! Color me impressed.
Yay, Aimee. What was wrong with it?
The little flap that switches the air from warm to cold wsa stuck and making a knocking noise from my center console. No big deal, but annoying.
There's a fairly famous pagan essay entitled "We Are The Other People" that addresses the whole incest/Eden thing. (In the context of How To Get Jehovah's Witnesses To Leave You Alone.)
I read a comic book-style tract of that name and dismissed it immediately as useful against such people when I realized it completely omitted the Great Flood. By the logic of that tract, everyone should be Jewish or Christian or Muslim because by literal interpretation of Scripture, which that tract uses, we're all descendants of Noah.
Well, my co-worker who I sometimes drive to and from work was with me, and he helped. I think I *could* have done it by myself, though. And yet, I was glad he was there.
I pulled off at a gas station, because I hate being on the highway shoulder, especially at rush hour. All I can envision is Teppy Pancakes. Of course, driving to the gas station cut my tire to ribbons, but at least I was out of trarffic.
Teppy Pancakes
Pancakes made by Teppy good.
Pancakes made of Teppy bad.
Boy I'm glad I ride the bus.
Man, pancakes sound really good now. (Not pancakes made of me, because self-cannibalization falls outside my range of kinks.) I have Bisquik, but I may be out of eggs. Hmmmm.
I read a comic book-style tract of that name and dismissed it immediately as useful against such people when I realized it completely omitted the Great Flood.
Heh. That's true, and it never occured to me. (Of course, my way of dealing with Jehovah's Witnesses is and has always been to simply say "No thank you," and shut the door.)