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carros y chingaderas

28 May 2009 - 17:36

So. Much. Shit.

Too many things occuring in my life for me to put them in here. But they're all big, nerve-wrecking, emergency-type things, suffice to say. I'm surprised I've dealt with it all so well and not bitten anyone yet. Things are beginning to look up at long last, however. Today, my friend Jess came over to help me try and either move Cyke, or make the stupid German car start. We accomplished the first of these things.

I was prepared to bitch at Jessie once he got to my house. Yesterday evening, we talk on the phone about my various car troubles (he's into cars), and he offers his help. "I know you work late," he tells me, "but the earlier we get started on this, the better. What time do you go in to work?"

"Five," I tell him, which is, of course, a lie. I clock in at five-thirty, but 'Ama always told me to give myself at least a half-hour time-frame, in case the person you're dealing with likes to make a late entrance. Which is the case with Jessie. I tell him not to worry about my sleeping patterns and call me as soon as he's able. I'll be up early, I promise. And I am. Eight-thirty in the morning, which, for going to bed three hours earlier, I say is pretty damn good. And what time does he show up at? Four-twenty. Gawd!

But once he was there, I forgot to be pissed. Jessie's a really easy-going guy (it's why he takes his time with everything). And hey, he did help me move the damn car. And it was... really, really cool. I didn't think it would be. I'm the type of person who doesn't like anyone else to touch my damn cars. They're mine, my own, my precioussss. And I don't really mean "stay the fuck outta my car," kinda thing, but more as in "touch my engine and you die." In the past, people have offered me to help me tinker around with my vehicles, and I refuse. Even if the problem's too big for me at the time, I'll pore over the manual and keep at the problem until my hands are raw sometimes. And, usually, not to brag, but I'll fix it. If it gets to be too much, rather than ask for help, I'll take it to a professional mechanic. When Alexis insisted on trying to fix my car, I got so pissed off, I decided to not even be at home. He messed around with it while I was at work. And only be-grundgingly will I let my uncle and cousin work on it, and that's cause they're licensed mechanics (licensed in Mexico, but hey, that's more than what I got). I wouldn't even allow my late father to touch my cars. We'd always end up arguing anyway, because he didn't think I knew shit. So it really surprised me that I actually enjoyed working alongside with Jess. I felt like... one of the guys...? I've never really done gung-ho so-called "manly" shit with anyone else before. When I barbeque, it's usually alone, maybe with my sister standing by, or my nephew hanging curiously around the grill. And the only other shit I do that would be considered a "man's job" is to work on my cars. Anyhow, it was fun. Kinda pissed me off that I'd just showered and ended up all sweaty again, right before work, too. Would you be surprised, now of all times, is when people complimented me on smelling good. Namely Irma and Connie. O_o

Now I've gotta rush off home. Jess told me to call him after work so he could help me tow the car over to his mom's place. It's in the next town over, where the city isn't so anal about having standing vehicles in your own damn property. As long as it's got a car cover on it, I can keep the car at Helen's for a good while. That way I'm not so pressed and shit, even if T�o Juan and T�a Chela don't make it here by Friday morning.

Gah, I've gotta go take a piss.

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