The first part of my freak out this week: I spelled a word right/incorrectly last week. Yes, you read correctly, I wanted to write about the brakes on my car this week, but I wrote breaks. That's a correct spelling but not the right word. I will not be talking about my amazing DJ-ing. I will not be talking about injuries of my bones.., I've never, in fact, broken a bone. I will not be talking about a repeated psycological lapse. I will not be talking about the fifteen minutes the state of Georgia says that I cannot work during for the every 5.75 hours that I do work.
I will be talking about the brakes on my car.
Back in July of this year, July! Stupid Kauffman Tire replaced my front brake pads. A few days later I'm driving on the highway and my front passanager tire almost fell off. I mean really almost fell off. When I got to a safe place to stop I had only two lug nuts left on that side and they were both loose.
Stupid Kauffman Tire should feel really lucky that I didn't just call a lawyer right then and there. Instead, I called JP (Husband and all around awesome dude) and screamed and wispered and cried (and told people who asked me if I needed help to "go to hell") all while pulling out my tire iron and tightening/redistributing my remaining lug nuts. Then I figure out that they must have lost two of my other nug nuts and just replaced them with different ones because two of the lug nuts no longer fit my tire iron.
JP took my car back to Stupid Kauffman Tire because he was scared of what might have happened if I took it myself. They replaced the lug nuts and fixed the plastic-y looking thing that was sticking out of my brake.
Last week we took my car back because the brakes were making a squeally, grindy, thunky noise. In this interum time, I barely drove my car because I was scared of it. It took them almost 24 hours to call me. TWENTY FOUR HOURS. And they said that they looked it over and couldn't find anything wrong.
When we went to pick up my car the guy re-itterated that they couldn't find a problem, that they had their "expert" look at it and maybe I should come back when someone else was there. I don't know how this other person could possibly figure out the quantum algorithm of squeally brakes better than their "expert" but ok.
And to top it all off, when I drove my car home the noise was almost non-existant. So either they fixed the problem with dumb luck by actually doing something right for once or they realized they messed up my car, fixed it, and didn't admit to it.
I swear if anything else goes wrong with my car I'm going to bap the manager of the Decatur Stupid Kauffman Tire on his big stupid balding ugly head. Can I tell you how ugly this guy is? He is, as stated earlier, balding and his head is too big. Also he has a beer gut and a what appears to be permanent ogre-like sneer on his stupid face that is on his over sized male-pattern-baldness head. In fact I would call him an ogre but he's not tall enough. He's short, fat, bobble-headed, balding, sneering and he has sub-par intelligence.
And with all this trouble, not once did ugly Shrek manager talk to me. Maybe he can't. Maybe he's using his three remaining brain cells to remember how to sneer.
***Next Week: Fabric!***