I was going to come home, after a beastly 30 minutes in 95 degree sun with no AC, to complain about heat: Its inconveniences, its smells and stifling properties, and how being in Arlington today feels like standing underneath a Harrier jet. Oddly, though, after pulling out of 7-11, the OHNOESmobile’s temperature control magically came back to life.
a) This is cool, because now I will not die.
b) This is crappy, because I had an appointment to get it fixed tomorrow and now I have to wait until it dies again, most likely at the least opportune moment, to take it to the mechanic.
Also, it leaves me with nothing to complain about for today. The government, I guess?
I like Ze Frank’s discussion of Bush’s ridiculous, un-Constitutional signing statements:
“When I file my taxes next year, I’m going to include a signing statement that says I can run red lights! But only when I’m drunk.”
YOU HAVE 7-11?! Lucky beeeeeyatch. Eat some slurpees for me. Like ten thousand of em.
I didn’t realize there was a portion of the industrialized world left that didn’t have 7-11s. What kind of backwards hole is Atlanta, anyway?