Pre-Hollerday Updates and Automatic Weapons

My car, as you might remember, was used by a female deer to commit suicide.  We just found out that the repair bill will be close to four thousand dollars and the insurance will cover it.  So we're just out for the car rental.

Lacking foreknowledge that people and animals would be throwing themselves at my car, I did not get rental insurance.  My wife added it today.  She called me to let me know that I saved us one dollar per month by not having rental.  Don't I feel the fool?

When we get it back, the car will be rebuilt better and stronger.  It will be the Bionic Car.  I have to locate a bumper sticker that says THIS CAR KILLED BAMBI.  And one of those small white deer stickers for the rear window with an X through it.

Merry F-ing Xmas.

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Last night I went shopping for work's Secret Santa Project.  I have known my target for a long time so the only choice was Spencer's Gifts at the mall.  It was brought to my attention that this wasn't exactly the best time in the world to go shopping but I didn't exactly have a lot of choice.  Hey, I just realized that xmas is Tuesday.

The first thing I noticed, besides not being able to find a parking space, is that Spencer's must have a rule that every fifteen to seventeen year-old child in the township must be inside the store, standing about and not moving.  And not moving loudly.  Speaking of loudly, we also need to discuss the decibel level of the (alleged) music, blasting down upon the teens from the specially-enhanced ceiling speakers.

Now before we call me Old Man and have me start yelling "Get off my lawn", I am a musician who plays loud rock and roll through large tube amplifiers.  I love music and I make it loudly.  The music raining down upon us was semi-agreeable but so loud that it prevented things like talking, concentrating and thinking.  Between impaired mental function and wading through Dawn of the Dead, shopping was extremely difficult.  

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the dings.  I guess it was the store's notification or alarm system that kept going DING, DING, DING every five seconds.  This addition to the general din was not a pleasant one.  As I suspected the workers no longer heard the DINGs, as if they were living next to an airport and didn't hear the planes anymore.  I politely offered to kill the DINGer and was encouraged by one of the fellows behind the counter, who was busy trying to launch his printer over the railing, down a few floors of the mall.

Since Spencer's seems to have co-opted several adult novelty stores, there was no shortage of interesting items to purchase.  But since Secret Santa takes place at work, I had to keep it semi-clean.  I found a penis mug and a Fifty Shades blindfold.  Yes, that's semi-clean where I work.

The wife decided to go into Hot Torrent.  This place was playing Rush (no, really) at the threshold of pain.  How one is supposed to discuss how cool their piercings look over that din is unfathomable.  My wife shouted to an employee about changing rooms.  She shouted something back but I couldn't make it out.  Wife tried on some really hot jeans but wasn't comfortable with them only coming up to her nether regions.  We must be old.

Topping off the evening, we ate at Chick Filet, where we established that none of the meat comes from gay chickens.