You can't drive me crazy...

Because I'm close enough to walk.

The screws are loose, people. I can hear the voices calling me, the pangs from beyond beckon me to do things against my own will... I'm slowly losing control of myself, my sanity has been breached.

How can I tell? How do I know that I'm losing my mind? When did the shoe drop? When I took my car to the dealer to get a new headlight bulb put in.

$50.

Now, I often say that the real test of a man's wealth isn't his ability to buy an expensive car. No, no my friends, it's the ability to keep said car up.

I used to drive a Toyota, headlight burned out, it cost me $12, and I could replace it myself... now I got this Volvo and dammit if I don't need two degrees and help from a NASA consultant to put washer fluid in it. And that's how they get you.

I haven't the firstfuckinclue what's going on under my hood... I popped it open a few months ago, looked inside and couldn't recognize anything in there... So, when anything goes wrong under there, I can only make educated guesses and reasonable assumptions as to what's wrong.

My car is smarter than me. And I spend good money to get reminded of that.

My pennance for such a silly purchase, obscene repair bills... I tithe to Howard Orloff Volvo/Jaguar/Land Rover at the alter of Jay, the customer service rep.

If you ever get a chance, pop open the hood of someone's expensive car and see just how much you can ID... if you get over 15% you're a frickin' genius.

Topic 7: Deciphering Women.

God made man, man was happy but he didn't know it. Then God made woman, man was happy for a while, and then grew to miss the lonliness. Then man made the garage, and he often sits there with beer and a tiny black & white TV set hopinf that woman and God don't see him.

Women are impossible to figure out... I'm learning this... They exist on an etheral plane between logic and emotion that men (for lack of full understanding of either) cannot co-exist on.

What's that mean, yo?

Basically, women are creatures of impulse and instinct and trying to figure out their motives as to why is almost like trying to take a picture of the wind... you'll see evidence of it, but never the root cause.

Why you worryin' about it though?

I'm not, per se, as much as I'm analyzing things more and reacting to things less, these days... Patience is becoming something I rely on more than anything, particularly with the women-folk.

What's all this mean?

I dunno... just needed to get some shit off my chest, respond to it how you'd like, I'm going to take my questions to Johnny Walker and let him help me sort it out.

I'm gone, it's 4:00 and I got work to do.