When my I get to half a tank of gas in my truck, I like to top it off. That way it doesnÂ’t seem like IÂ’m spending as much money. Logically I know that is not the case; I just have to stop more often to fill up. A couple of weeks ago the gas price jumped over night by 14 cents to $2.75 the morning I was going to fill up. Figuring that the price would drop off, I decided that I was going to gamble and wait to see if it drops.

It didnÂ’t drop; the price went up by another 20 cents. Finally the day came that my fuel dummy light came on, and I knew it was time to fill up. When that light comes on, that means I only have a couple of gallons left, and at 10-14 miles to the gallon I didnÂ’t feel like gambling anymore. I pull into the next gas station, they where charging $2.95 a gallon for regular. Knowing this was going to hurt the bank account, I started filling up. $20Â… $30Â… $40Â… $50Â… $60Â… $70Â… And then the pump started to slow down to a crawl, a slow crawl. What the hell?!?!?

Did I drain the tank? Was there a problem with the pump? What is going on here?!?! I’m playing with the handle trying to get it to pump faster. Then it stopped pumping all together. No more gas for me. I couldn’t figure out what the hell happened. That is when I noticed that I had reached $75.00. Walking into the store, I ask the clerk what’s going on. That is when I’m told, “There is a dollar cap on the pumps. The pumps will only dispense $75.00 worth of gas at a time. Most of the gas stations in the area have that on the pumps. It helps prevent loss to drive aways.” I look the guy in the eye and explain; well it doesn’t help me at all. I paid at the pump and I’m only slightly over ¾ of a tank full.

So a valuable lesson was learned: I should never gamble, it never works out for me.

Posted by: Contagion at 05:45 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 369 words, total size 2 kb.

A couple of weeks ago my parents asked a favor of me. My aunt had a freezer that is about 5 years old she didnÂ’t want anymore. They wanted me to move it from my auntÂ’s garage to their garage. No steps, no long hauls, just a simple move from one garage to another. Since it was only 5 years old and about the size of an apartment fridge, I knew it wouldnÂ’t be too heavy and said it wasnÂ’t a problem. For the last two weeks they kept telling me it was just moving this freezer from one garage to another.

They asked me if I wanted their old freezer, which is 35 years old and in their basement. I have a small chest freezer that I barely use and had no need for a big one like that. There really is no place in our house to put it and it’s 35 years old. It’s not like it’s very energy efficient. On Monday they asked me for the umpteenth time if I wanted the stupid, aging, decrepit freezer. Again I gave them a resounding “Hell, no!” After confirming I didn’t want it, they said there is a friend of theirs that does want it, and they are going to give it to him. The catch being that HE has to move it out of the basement. They wouldn’t charge him for it if he moves. Okay, that’s not a bad deal.

All of a sudden the deal sweetens for the guy taking the 70Â’s super freezer of death. This morning my parents tell me that they donÂ’t want the guy moving it out of the basement, they are afraid he might damage the walls, doors, floors and furniture moving it. They want my cousin and me to move it out of the basement for them. BASTICHES! All day at work I had horrible images of being crushed under the 70Â’s food cryoton 5000. I knew this little favor was going to turn into a big favor, I knew it!

I get to my aunts, and my father is there with an appliance dolly. I look at the freezer there, tip it to the side to check the weight, the thing couldnÂ’t have weighed more then 200 pounds, and was probably closer to 100. (IÂ’m not a good judge of weight when IÂ’m lifting stuff, but I know that my cousin and I had no problem lifting and moving it). We get it into the back of the truck and head off to my parents.

When we get there, we easily unload the freezer and get it into place in minutes. Then we went to move the old 70s freezatronic 5000. This thing is much larger then the new freezer, except on the inside it is about the same size. No good comes from this. Performing the same tilt test I discover that this is much heaver, MUCH HEAVIER. And that is with out the door. My parents had removed it so it would fit easier through the doorways and up the stairs. We strap the Frostinator 5000 to the dolly and start pulling it up the stairs. I am on the top and my cousin pushing from the bottom. People, this thing weighed 2.5 tons! The 5000 was the poundage of the beast, not the model number! All was going okay until the very top step. As I pulled the Frostbiter 5000 up the last step I feel something give in the most sensitive of male regions. I think my balls tried to jump into my lungs. Pain seers in the groinal region as we finally get it in place. The Herniator 5000 is finally at the top of the stairs. My cousin then graciously does the rest of the heaving lifting to get it down three steps into the garage. (Graciously because he didnÂ’t have to suffer breathing around his nuts!).

Now of course I could go to the hospital, but why do that. I have a reputation to protect. Nope, IÂ’m sitting here anesthetizing myself. My drip bag (AKA beer bottle) is being refilled by my private nurse (Ktreva), I have take a crap load of ibuprofen and later IÂ’m going to have my private nurse rub down the area with some Neosporin with pain reliever. Neosporin has fixed just about everything else in my life; it wonÂ’t fail me now! Sure some of you might think the whole rubbing of genital regions with Neosporin is for pleasure, but if your crotch felt like mine right now, youÂ’d know that there is no pleasure to it!

Now excuse me, I have to cough, and I donÂ’t like typing with tears in my eyes.

Posted by: Contagion at 06:11 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
Post contains 793 words, total size 4 kb.