Posted by: dougery | April 26, 2011

Mandy Moore, Jeff Goldblum and Thor Walk into a Bar…

There’s that famous chaos theory saying about butterflies in Topeka and how their wings flapping can result in Kate Middleton doing a keg stand at her wedding reception all the way across the Atlantic. Also, please read that sentence in the voice of Jeff Goldblum (in, say, Jurassic Park) to get the appropriate pseudo-cinematic scientific effect. Actually, go ahead and read the rest of this blog post in his voice. Either him or the professor from Futurama. No you don’t have to tell me which you chose.

Yesterday I was chaos theory’s whipping boy, or if not that, I certainly benefit from a series of un/fortunate events.

After work I dropped of my wife at her spinning class where she chooses to punish herself twice a week by riding a bike to nowhere while listening to techno versions of B.o.B. and Lady Gaga. Instead of just lurking in the jeep outside I decided to get stuff done, and off I drove toward Errands. First up, the gas station where for the first time since ’08 it now costs $4 / gallon which our vehicle consumes as much as Mandy Moore misses candy (had to dig back to the late 90s for that one).

After filling ‘er up I saw that the rear driver’s side tire was looking a little low. And just as I started the engine and inched closer to the air pump a small coup zipped in and stole my spot. The jerk! I had places to be (in theory) and places to go (sort of).

“Oh well,” I thought to myself, “The tire looked low yesterday, too. It’ll be fine.”

What came next in this thrilling tale of quasi-rural adventure was a trip to the grocery store. As has already been established, I am too lazy to exercise thus cooking was out of the question. So rotisserie chicken it was. Also there was a special on 12-packs of Coke Brand products. Four for $10. Giddy-up! My jeep was soon full of 12 packs of Diet Dr Pepper which I long ago was brainwashed by an evil ad campaign to believe tastes better than actual Dr. Pepper and its 47 and half flavors, or whatever. Also the packaging has Thor on it. I had no idea Norse gods were watching their calorie intake.

Meanwhile the tire was nagging at me. I probably should fill it up. So I pulled into a different gas station, one that had a giant brackish puddle right next to the air pump. I pulled up, got out and swore because I would now have to stand in ankle deep disgust-o-water. HOWEVER since I had driven into the puddle the rain water remained in the treads of my tire and as I filled it with air I saw tiny bubbles spitting out of a nail stuck fast in the rubber. If not for that coup sneaking in and cockblocking me I would never have gone to this gas station. If not for this gas station puddle I would never had noticed the puncture.

Across the street was an auto-service, which is not surprising since there are as many mechanic’s garages in our tiny town as their are flavors in a can of Diet Dr. Pepper (that’s called tying the story all together). I parked and of course I was dressed up (I had my 6 month review earlier that day) and now felt like some high-powered university douche standing in front of a guy whose overalls were so crusty with black smudges that they could likely stand up without him in them. I told him my predicament. A jeep full of groceries. A wife needing to be picked up in 15 minutes (who i couldn’t even call as she left her bag in the car). Could he help me?

The lesson is (a la the Simpsons) you can always depend on the kindness of strangers. Crusty overalls plugged the tire in 5 minutes and I continued my string of white collar douchebaggery by paying the negligible expense with plastic. I pulled up and acquired my post-spun wife and we headed home to not cook, watch Dexter and stave off death by psycho cat as Barry zoomed around our bedroom intent on mauling a moth that I swear took sadistic enjoyment out of watching my shoulder and leg get used as a strategic launching pad.

When my wife, half awake asked me what the hell was going on I simply told her that the cat was on psychotropic drugs from consuming too much moth dust and that she should roll over and go back to sleep. She squinted at me and then patted my arm as if I was the one who needed to be consoled. I didn’t. I just needed a paper towel to staunch the blood leaking from the gashes in my shoulder.

reading: The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan

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Responses

  1. Yeah, I’m totally not stealing Barry. Pickle, though…


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