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2007-02-15 - 8:46 p.m.

Unusual Things I'd Like To Do Someday

1) Help search for a missing child. (But if it turns into one of those Susan Smith situations, that bitch is going down with the first gun I can wrestle away from an officer).

2) Spend a week observing mountain gorillas in Africa.

3) Spend a day scouting for gems (Hiddenite, NC)

4) Become an expert on something obscure (e.g. hieroglyphics, ancient weaponry) and/or something that might actually come in handy in the big scary world (martial arts, auto repair).

5) ???? - To be determined.

Speaking of #4, this morning, mom followed me over to the Mazda dealership to drop off my car, and later we bebopped off to the nearby Half Price Books for some browsing and purchasing of discount goodies.

I wound up buying 3 books on horse racing to add to my collection (one was a special edition Time-Life coffee table book about the Kentucky Derby with a padded hunter green leather cover, autographed by the author. Originally priced at $50, I got it for a hair under $25. Not too shabby especially since it was still in great shape!)

I also snapped up some true crime paperbacks by the guys who started Crime Rant (who, by the way, I've corresponded with via email), and a hardback edition of Patricia Cornwell's book about Jack the Ripper. It was marked down to $5.98, only two dollars more than the paperback version, so hey, why not? I don't know if you've heard about this book, but Ms. Cornwell apparently spent several years and tons of money researching Saucy Jack and has come to the conclusion that she's figured out who he was, and that the case is now solved.

I've only read about 30 pages (she gives the identity of Jack away in the first chapter), and it's interesting so far, but one thing she said jangled me: She claims that while she had previously only been "mildly interested" in the case, she was unaware that his victims were prostitutes and how they were killed, until she started her research after a visit to Scotland Yard in 2001.

Now, I'm sorry, but I find that VERY hard to believe, especially for someone with her experience (working in a coroner's office for six years and later becoming a bestselling crime novel author).

C'mon, don't most people know that Jack mutilated prostitutes? I mean, that IS the gore and lore of Jack the Ripper. You might not know the exact year, or all the specifics, but when you think of Jack the Ripper, you think of London in the late 19th century, foggy cobblestone streets barely illuminated by gaslights, and a monster "gentleman" in a black cape and top hat darting in and out of shadows, leaving whores sliced open like tuna at the fish market.

And the word "Ripper" in itself certainly brings to mind images of bunny rabbits, daisies, and line dancing with a piece of cherry jello shot down your bra.

Or is that just me?

(Note to self: Lay off the 'shroom pizza).

At any rate, for me, Cornwell's credibility on her "solving" the Jack the Ripper murders took a nosedive after reading her professed ignorance.

Oh, and that whole paragraph in the second chapter where she admitted to her agent that she HATED writing the book and the entire project as a whole, but felt she had to bring the truth to light, or some shit.

Doesn't inspire the greatest confidence with a reader. Especially one who's running around with cherry jello in her bra, shouting "I NEED STABILITY! DO YOU HEAR ME? STA. LIL. BITTY." to the mini-mart patrons at 3 am and then crashing headfirst into a display of beef jerky.

Not that I've ever done that. But wait a couple years.

So bottom line: I will be taking Cornwell's book with a mega-chub grain of salt. Followed by some tequila. And my arms around the neck of a guy who kinda sorta (not really unless I squint) looks like John Travolta in Urban Cowboy, that I keep calling "Dub."

Why venture out and experience life when I can imagine all my misadventures from home? Where the beer is cheap and the no one groans when I play "Candyman" by Christina Aguilera on the jutebox. Over and over and over.

And speaking of sweet, guess what I did?

First off, I asked the guy at the Mazda dealership to save any replaced parts if work was done. Always throws them for a loop.

Then, when I talked to him later on the phone, and he laid out all the "needed" and "recommended" work, I scribbled everything down so I could repeat his words and prices.

We discussed why I needed certain items and the typical life span of parts, and you should've heard me! "So as far as the front brake pads, I was told to get ceramic ones for longer life span. {GO ME} Oh, I see. They'll squeak right off the bat? Better to get the shorter lasting asbestos ones?"

After all was said, I probably fell for every trick in the book, especially with that diagnostic fee ($92) that would be applied to any work that was done.

But my car is nearly 9 years old, I don't plan on replacing it anytime soon, and I've had very few problems with it overall. Even though the spark plugs were only 50% shot, I'm getting them replaced. The timing belt MAY be fine, but to "get to it" is half the labor charge and I'm overdue on the recommended mileage. Uh huh. Whatever.

I've got the money, and I'd rather have the car aligned and the power steering fluid flushed and intake manifold cleaned and the A/C charged and dyed to find leaks so I don't have to deal with any maintenance for awhile.

The estimate was topping out at over $1,000 plus tax. Not including what it would take to fix the problem with the A/C.

FUCK.

We discussed eliminating the non-essentials, and were nearly at an agreement.

Then I turned on the charm. "Are there any discounts or specials at the moment?

The guy, of course, never mentioned this before, but then he found a "Ladies' Day" coupon for 10% off.

"Oh, excellent! Now, let's say, I go ahead and have everything done...could you give me say, more of a discount, since I'd be having so much work done? Ya know, like another 5% or so?"

"Well...I could give you another 5%, I guess..." he replied sheepishly.

"Oh wonderful! Cuz I'm so sweet, right?

"Yeah, you ARE sweet."

(I still got it. DAMN).

"So we're looking at..."

"15% off the bill...plus tax."

"And then whatever you might have to do fix the A/C..."

"Right," he replied. "I'll let you know after we charge it and put the dye in."

"Great! Talk to you soon!" I chippered.

I knew it was going to cost a pretty penny (or an ugly one) to get work done, but on the other hand, FUCK. At least I managed to talk him down on the price. Of course, being me, I was kicking myself for not talking him down even further.

But the most bizarre news, is that the A/C fix, the big thing I thought I needed done (besides the check engine light problem that came up before I left Lexington), doesn't need to be fixed at all! They couldn't find a problem with it, unless it's a really slow leak they can't detect.

It just needed recharging. Which is what I wanted done last year and the jack-offs at the service station told me charging it could exacerbate the problem.

Then again, I might drive home and find out the fuckwads in Houston fixed everyting BUT what needed to be fixed, and I'll be sweltering in my car next July once again.

But I'll have clean power steering fluid and new spark plugs and brake pads that don't squeak. My car won't pull to the left, unless I ask it to, when I'm craving beef jerky after line dancing and jello shots with Dub.

My battery won't work when I try to start my car up, but I WILL get laid behind a dumpster at a gas station.

Which is number 5 on my list of unusual things to do someday.