I am man, hear me whimper!

before we begin, a few alternate titles for this post that I was going to use.

I'm a Ninja in my Malibu

Wanker of the Century.

In no way can I feel my hands.

Did you know it's possible to jump your own car with your own car?

I'll meet you at the Speedway, 7:05am, bring work clothes, we'll have a jog.

True story.
For those of you not located in the great commonwealth (not state) of Kentucky, we are still enjoying low 30's in the morning. The 96 Chevy Blazer, or "ice-box", is still limping around on one leg maybe once or twice a week. Bloc Party warned us, "the price of gas keeps on rising", so Ang and I still carpool 80% of the time. On the odd day however, I'll brave the freezing conditions and fight the morning grind with no heat. This morning was one of those days. "Start that beast up!", I said to myself. I soon noticed there was a good bit of frost obstructing my view of the road, so before I pulled out, I must clear it off I thought. What did I have at my beckon call to scrape the ice off you ask? Well the button to my jean jacket, but of course. Minutes later at the gas station I soon remember my exploits from a few months ago when I hadn't driven the ice-box in a few weeks and it wouldn't start back up after getting gas. Oh No!, I thought. Is this bucket of frustration going to start back up? Nope! Roger Miller couldn't have said it better: Chug-a-lug, Chug-a-lug. Nothing. O.K, O.K, I thought, it just needs a jump. No prob, lemme walk in (holy crap its cold) and see if someone can lend me a hand."Sure, I'll be right out", says the friendly Speedway employee. Seconds later he sees, or senses danger. Maybe his Spidey-sense went off. "We're actually not allowed to give jumps to customers, Sorry, It's a liability thing". What!, I'm thinking. Before I can get a word out he's back in the warm confines of his 99 cent coffee and lottery tickets. Screw this, I'll do it myself. I quickly realize I'm only an 8th of a mile or so from where I live. There sits, warm as it's name, my '05 Malibu ready to break hearts. I'm up for it, so I decide to jog home, run up the stairs (3 flights), grab our one copy of the key we have (thanks Motorvation), run back down, start it up, scrape the ice off, drive back to the Speedway, jump it, (it worked HA HA! victory), drive the Malibu back home, run up stairs, drop off key, run back down, jog 8th of mile back to Speedway where ice-box sits cold and alone, but running, head to work sitting on freezing cold ice hands,...and that my friends is where the story ends. (Whewww!!) As far as that wanker-worker guy. Well, shame on you. Although, Thank You. I'll remember to not be (pardon the pun) as cold as you were when a fellow human being is in need. What have we learned here today gang? Well that's up to you. Maybe I've learned to get the heat fixed in my car, but until that happens. I guess we could all try a little harder to help each other out. Peace, I'm out. Gotta go do something.

listening to right now: Undo by Bjork

JChu