8:40 this morning:
me: "can you install some new sparkplug wires for me? i have them right here."
my neighborhood mechanic: "yes, but i'll also need to change your spark plugs and check your timing belt and do a general tune-up."

WHY???????????? JUST DO WHAT I ASKED YOU TO DO, MOTHERFUCKER.


9:30 this morning:
my sister: "have you talked to grandma m____ lately?"
me: "no."
my sister: "ugh. i called her this weekend and she said 'well i lived through the hurricane.'"
me: "she's in florida?!?"
my sister: "apparently. and when i told her i didn't realize she'd gone down there she said 'you would have known that if you called me more often."
me: "does she not know how to dial a fucking phone? she's never called me. ever. and every single time i call her it's a guilt trip about something. i'm tempted to call her and tell her i wanted to call sooner but satan wouldn't let me."

grandma loves to blame satan for everything that's wrong with the world. i used to think that this must make things easier for her -- always having someone to blame. but she still feels the need to make us feel guilty, which i don't understand. it's not my fault, grandma. it's fucking satan. i guess she sees herself as guilt-tripping us all the way to heaven's door.

thinking about my mechanic being satan's minion doesn't really make me feel any better, unfortunately.

but listening to air on the way to work helped a little.