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The Christmas Tool
I was up early today watching for Santa Claus/The U.S. Postal Service. I have never been threatened by, or treated poorly by, a member of the United States Postal Service.
I have however been accused of being anti-government. I am not anti-governmert. I am anti-corruption, and while waiting on my "Christmas Tool" I got to thinking about my fifty something years of life as an American female in the year 2011.
"My Christmas Tool" is a flexible shaft screwdriver. I need this tool because - please choose one of the following in your mind. TY
A- it gives me pleasure to be responsible for the basics of maintaining a reliable vehicle in an era of female independence. B-I am a tool freak. C-I am Bi-sexual and I respond to tools. D-All of the above
I was expecting it to arrive today, the "Monday before Christmas."
Maybe I should back up. I bought a 1997 Mercury Villager, loaded, with the luxury I crave from a Mercedes, and the generic dependability, durability, and thriftiness (pre-tsunami) I have come to expect from fine Japanese engineers, over-seeing happy American workers in the year 1997.
(Wayne at Horn Auto and R.V., in El Cajon will be happy to provide you with a drunk call after you screw him out of five hundred or more dollars on a deal. At least he did for me.)
I am old enough to remember how my country ended WWII by threatening to annihiliate the Japanese people. That brings with it a powerful level of guilt. Guilt equals money, that's what I learned from my mother, Psycho Titty.
Today I am a beneficiary of that guilt. American guilt, not Psycho Titty guilt. My Mercury Villager has an above average history of customer loyalty. The "Mercury Villager " has it's own fan club. One which I have yet to penetrate. It's on a Yahoo platform. I may or may not be using the term "platform" correctly.I do know that Yahoo will not allow me to create an account using the online information I am allowing them to access.
I love my Mercury Villager. Please Yahoo let me join. What more do you need from me? Isn't my love enough? I adore my Mercury Villager, it is perfect for me. Power everything, including lumbar support. It is my sleek silver steed, evoking memories of my childhood escape fantasies.
It's seats are my love handles and I command it's power. When I'm behind the wheel, I feel like I could make it to a bridge over a deep chasm of dark water. I feel like I can escape my pursuers and become a freedom myth told by an obscure and dying race of people.
Ahhhh, yes. A freedom myth. I'm okay with that.
Here's something you might be interested in.
The Christmas Tool
The Christmas Tool
I was up early today watching for Santa Claus/The U.S. Postal Service. I have never been threatened by, or treated poorly by, a member of the United States Postal Service.
I have however been accused of being anti-government. I am not anti-governmert. I am anti-corruption, and while waiting on my "Christmas Tool" I got to thinking about my fifty something years of life as an American female in the year 2011.
"My Christmas Tool" is a flexible shaft screwdriver. I need this tool because - please choose one of the following in your mind. TY
A- it gives me pleasure to be responsible for the basics of maintaining a reliable vehicle in an era of female independence. B-I am a tool freak. C-I am Bi-sexual and I respond to tools. D-All of the above
I was expecting it to arrive today, the "Monday before Christmas."
Maybe I should back up. I bought a 1997 Mercury Villager, loaded, with the luxury I crave from a Mercedes, and the generic dependability, durability, and thriftiness (pre-tsunami) I have come to expect from fine Japanese engineers, over-seeing happy American workers in the year 1997.
(Wayne at Horn Auto and R.V., in El Cajon will be happy to provide you with a drunk call after you screw him out of five hundred or more dollars on a deal. At least he did for me.)
I am old enough to remember how my country ended WWII by threatening to annihiliate the Japanese people. That brings with it a powerful level of guilt. Guilt equals money, that's what I learned from my mother, Psycho Titty.
Today I am a beneficiary of that guilt. American guilt, not Psycho Titty guilt. My Mercury Villager has an above average history of customer loyalty. The "Mercury Villager " has it's own fan club. One which I have yet to penetrate. It's on a Yahoo platform. I may or may not be using the term "platform" correctly.I do know that Yahoo will not allow me to create an account using the online information I am allowing them to access.
I love my Mercury Villager. Please Yahoo let me join. What more do you need from me? Isn't my love enough? I adore my Mercury Villager, it is perfect for me. Power everything, including lumbar support. It is my sleek silver steed, evoking memories of my childhood escape fantasies.
It's seats are my love handles and I command it's power. When I'm behind the wheel, I feel like I could make it to a bridge over a deep chasm of dark water. I feel like I can escape my pursuers and become a freedom myth told by an obscure and dying race of people.
Ahhhh, yes. A freedom myth. I'm okay with that.
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