Paranthetical Madness (enough to drive a grammar teacher insane)
Monday, Sept. 17, 2007 at 8:28 a.m.
On This Day in 1965, CBS television premieres Hogan's Heroes, the first and perhaps only sitcom based in a German prisoner-of-war camp. The show is proof once and for all that Nazis are hilarious.
And you know, the fact that this show went on for several seasons and is still a well-loved syndication show just continues to prove to me the utter lack of taste of the American gen pop. Bleah. Bless Bob Crane’s heart, though, no one deserves to have their brains beaten out by a tripod hitherto used to hold the camera that filmed his sexual escapades. See the movie Auto Focus if you have no idea what I’m talking about.
Anyway, I had a small bit of angst this weekend as Trixie died on me in the Joann’s parking lot. Oh, for those just joining us, Trixie is my 2006 Toyota Matrix (and oddly enough, the car was named before the choice was made to buy a Matrix; I had already decided that I would have a blue car named Trixie or a red car named Brucie. On another note, my iPod is also named Trixie. It hasn’t caused any confusion yet, at least not with me, and the Hubster tries to not make too much sense out of the things I say anyway). So the fact that the car is less than 2 years old (if you count when it actually rolled off the assembly line, and yes, I’ll eventually stop these long asides) and it has already been in the shop once for some sort of transmission computer problem, you can imagine my annoyance when I hopped into Trixie’s front seat (which already has a very comfortable impression of my backside; not stopping the asides yet, ha ha!) and tried to fire the girl up and she just went click click click click click click click.
So, a call to Hubster, the dealership, a tow truck, another call to the dealership, and a third and fourth call to the dealership, I left the keys in the car (!!!!!) and drove off with the Hubster in his 2007 penis extension Nissan 350Z (I joke. Hubster needs neither a penis extension or a girth enhancement) and awaited the fate of the erstwhile Trixie. Well, it turned out to be a short in the battery, and the dealership not only didn’t charge me for the battery but also ate the cost of the tow (it really doesn’t look good to have a newer-model car towed into the property while hundreds of Saturday car-shoppers watch).
So, I really hope that I didn’t use all of my stored-up Karma for the car incident, as I’ll be needing all the Karma I can get for the surgery coming up in two weeks. I’ve resigned myself to the three-day clear liquid diet, although I haven’t yet steeled myself for the enema experience (Hubster has already declared that I will have to take care of this myself; he has a strict rule about things going in where things only go out. I think women have an easier time with this notion because of our anatomy, but the idea of the enema still gives me the jibblies. Perhaps if I have enough of the jibblies, however, the enema won’t be necessary). Anyway, flavoured gelatin was 5 for $1 at Walgreens, and I picked up a large amount of apple juice and Otter Pops. Frozen flavoured corn syrup, yum!
Perhaps I gained some Karma for the Karma bank because I had a long conversation with my mother on Friday (“I haven’t heard from you in a while, Valkyrie. . .” “I’ve been kind of busy with, oh, life, Mom, in the past, oh, 48 hours, which is how long it’s been since I talked to you . . .”) and she was really trying to get me to invite them out for Christmas although I did manage to get them to consider January, after all the travelers have left but before everyone shows up for the Superbowl, and certainly after I’ve had a chance to heal after the surgery (which Mom is not going to know about unless absolutely necessary, which is to say, never).
So anyway, that’s the news from la casa Valkyrie. Perhaps I’ll stop now with the parantheticals? (Nah. But how about a picture instead?)
Talk about lost in translation (or perhaps, the most apropos translation?):
Yeah, I’m not having my surgery here.