Wow...me SLEEPING?

Well now this is creepy. So I fire up my camera (to snap a photo of the "Anti-Monkey Butt" Powder...see previous post) and what do I find. What do I find. WHAT DO I FIND?

Creepy photos that someone (my wife? Dear God I hope it's my wife) is taking of me and our dog Rusty sleeping.

Creepy:

Mistake: "I'm Lovin' It" Not so much...

Yesterday I made a (delicious) mistake and let Leah talk me into going to McDonald's yesterday for lunch. I decided to not even try and do the vegetarian thing...and I ate not ONE but TWO kinds of meat--I had a Big Mac (my first ever) and one of Leah's McNuggets.

Man, the McNugget was just as good as I remember from my childhood. The Big Mac...was overrated. It's a $3.09 double cheeseburger with a third piece of bread thrown in. Lame.

This visit to McDonald's was kinda historic, because I hadn't eaten at McDee's in nearly 10 years. I just don't like the food there. It was also the first time I'd eaten red meat in three months. My stomach is killing me from eating this horrible, horrible food.

Anyway, McDonald's sucks. I'll probably go back in 2029.

WMG can KISS MY ASS!!!

As April winds down I'm thinking about the start of summer. For me, summer doesn't being until May 31.

That's THOUGHTS OF A LIMEMONKEY'S only holiday. Yes folks, I speak of the legendary "John Bonham's brithday." Every year that I've had this blog I've dedicated a day to honoring the legendary Led Zeppelin drummer's birthday. Last year I went all-out and made a special KICK ASS tribute that I posted on YouTube.

So I'm trying to figure out what to do this year, something really over the top...and while messing around on my YouTube Channel--I noticed that one of my videos was gone!

That's right, my John Bonham tribute video. Those PUTRID fucks, those swaggering cowards over at Warner Music Group decided that little old me SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED to honor the memory of the GREATEST ROCK DRUMMER OF ALL TIME. I guess I'm not allowed to make NO MONEY using Led Zeppelin's music to honor their drummer.

Apparently this is a somewhat common occurance on YouTube, with many vidoes dedicated to this outrage.

Warners, if you're listening I want ya to know--I'm coming for ya. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow...but SOMEDAY SOON I'm going to be there. When you come out of your office, after a late night brain-stormin session (where you discuss with your cronies the best way to FUCK OVER the fans of your bands). Maybe you'll be driving down a lonely stretch of highway, and you'll see an orange Cavalier zooming up behind you...

Then you'll know.

And as I stand over your bloody corpse, samauri sword in hand, you'll know...that I am pissed you didn't let me use a 1970's drum solo in my John Bonham TRIBUTE.

As for this year's tribute, I still have a month to figure out what I'm doing.

Look what they did to my BABY!

So it finally happened. My car was finally damaged (beyond a nail in my tire) at work. Because I know how sensitive we all are about my complaining at work, this post is *censored* so as not to piss anyone *cough* my wife *cough* off...but here we go.

I was sitting at my desk, working...when my boss-in-law comes high tailing it into the office. Apparently he got into a (usual) heated "debate" with someone trying to sell him some pallet shelving. There's an iron gate on our front door and he closed it quickly, locking this individual out of our office.

Words were said.

I didn't think much of it (as I work in a kind of DMZ). I went about my work in peace. A few moments later, my boss was shouting "He's smashing our cars!" Everyone involved (other than myself) being a coward, I shoved passed them and ran outside. This a-hole had been trying to leave the mudhole that is our parking lot/yard and had bumped my car with his giant Truck. That's what happened. The guy wasn't backing into all of our cars for "revenge" but that's what everyone thought. I went out there (no one tried to stop me, as I am insane) and talked to the guy. I didn't get mad because he was cool about it...and he was insured.

I'm getting it fixed Monday on his insurance company's dime (even get a free rental car until it's fixed). Though this story has a happy-ish ending, it could have been a lot worse. Most of the people visiting us are uninsured. That would have meant forking over $500. Yikes. I probably wouldn't have fixed it, now that it's paid off.

This is reason #11793 why I can't help jumpstart the economy by buying a new car (even though I want one). Anyway, even though hardly no one I know *cough* understands this, I'm going to give my car to my baby sister in a few years and I don't want it any more screwed up than it already is.

I know it's not that bad, but look what they did to my baby:

Attempted Rape

So today was shitty. Yeah, it was Monday...but it was more than just that.

I woke up, determined to get my car's heater working properly. Friday me and Amber are *gulp* driving to Chicago to see Oasis (have you heard?) and I wanted my car in tip-top shape. So I made an "appointment" at Weber Chevrolet on Olive.

Now, I debated on whether or not I should actually use their business name on this blog--but frankly, the way I was treated today they deserve the (minuscule) bad P.R. My "appointment" turned out to be a joke (they don't have appointments--it's all first come, first serve). I got there and had to wait FOREVER just to get checked in. This was partly my fault, as I'd never been there before and didn't know you just DROVE right on in. By the time I figured it out, three others had "come first" and been "served" before me.

The long wait meant I had to go with Leah downtown for her court date (stupid traffic cameras). She got off, by the way, without having to pay a dime (thanks to her lawyer, who is also her mother).

Anyway, I eventually got to work and a few hours later Weber Chevy (aka the Rapists) called me to let me know that "a wire had gotten twisted up" (how they could not tell me) and that they'd have to run a "new wire in." Now, before I give you their price--let me explain. A year ago, almost to the day--one of my car's knobs came off in my hand. You know the knob that let's you switch between front/main defrost and the blowers? Yeah. THAT KNOB. So basically for a year my car's been stuck on "blowers." It's sucked, but I've dealt with it because it's only a problem in the winter (when it takes FOREVER to defrost the windshield and you have to drive around with the heater blazing and the windows down to avoid fogging).

The heater works just fine. It's just the part (this "wire" they spoke of) that connected the knob to the heater part was messed up.

To fix this, Weber quoted me $360.

I was shocked. I had expected to get off for $75-$150 range...not $360!!! Yikes. But, I was at work--totally mobbed and unable to talk, so I told the guy I'd pay it. A few minutes later, when I was able to think, I changed my mind and called them back. But of course, I couldn't get through to anyone other than the lady who answers the phone. I told her to tell my mechanic to stop fixing my car because I didn't have the money. When over an hour passed, I decided to call again--I figured my mechanic would have called me by then, and I wanted to make 100% sure I wasn't about to be taken advantage of.

Same luck though. Couldn't get a hold of him, so I settled for his voicemail. I was like: "Hey man, I can't afford no $360 bill...uh...you don NOT have my permission to fix my car! You hear me chief? NO PERMISSION...call me."

He soon called me back to tell me that he was "at lunch" when I'd tried to call earlier, and that my car was currently in pieces and that he'd talked to "the man" (whoever the fuck that was) and his "man" had said:

"Well what can we do? The guy can't pay us what he don't have."

Which is a really GOOD fucking point I might add. Anyway, his "man" decided that because I was poor, I'd only have to pay $100 to get my car fixed.

NOW WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT IS THAT??? Hell, maybe I should try this more often. Maybe at the checkout line I should say "No lady, $30 for beer and Coca Puffs is too much...I don't have that kind of money!" Maybe the Shop 'N Save lady will talk to her "man" and get me a 75% discount.

Weber Chevrolet treated me like an ASSHOLE, which I am...but still. Had I not threatened to leave, had I just rolled over...they would have STOLEN $260 from me. I know the dealership is always pricey, but I figured getting the job (which I thought was minor) done correctly and quickly, was worth an additional cost.

I was wrong.

Today I was almost raped by Weber Chevrolet. I got away, but you might not be so lucky. Stay away. Stay away.

A "Day of Beauty"

Ugh.

The "Wedding" is starting to cramp my style. I'm having to do things like cut my hair, and learn to dance (Leah ordered a dancing DVD, thank GOD I'm not having to go to an actual class). And then there was today.

Today, I got my very first facial. I know.

Leah dragged me to this fancy Day Spa--I mean FANCY (we spent nearly $200--paid for by my boss, her Daddy). They kept asking me if I wanted anything to drink. It was crazy. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

See, I have decent skin (in Junior College--my early 20s, it was really bad). But one thing I've always had was blackheads (mainly on my nose). One chick I dated even told me I had a strawberry for a nose (this was after I broke up with her). Anyway, Leah decided we should both get facials before the wedding. However, we'd heard that facials can actually make you break out sometimes (one of those "it gets worse before it gets better" sort of things). So we did it this weekend. I didn't really want to go, but I recognized that I could use a little attention in this area.

The spa was fancy. We got there, and everyone was super-hot...I was the only dude there. I had hoped that me and Leah wouldn't be separated, however this was not to be. I was shuffled into a small little room. It looked like a cross between a room at the dentist and the barbershop. The lady (super hot, in a traditional (i.e. does nothing for me) sort of way) sat me down and proceeded to ask me some pseudo-medical questions. Most made sense (allergies, conditions, that sort of thing) but some where strange (what sort of moisturizer do I use?). Everything was going fine until she asked me what kind of soap I used on my face.

"Plain, yellow dial soap," I told her. From the horrified expression on her face, I could tell I'd given the wrong answer. Once the interview portion was over it was time to get down to business.

"You can either put on these pants or you can just stay in your shorts," she told me, handing me a pair of crossbred scrubs/sweat pants. I was flabbergasted--wait a second...I have to get undressed for this??? No one had told me this. I was just getting a facial!

Now, I have a problem with doctors and other medical professionals. I don't like getting man-handled by total strangers. I am a very touchy-huggy person, but I have to FRICKIN' KNOW YOU FIRST. This woman came back into the room once I'd taken off my shirt and climbed onto the bed. She had me sit up so she could put on a hair-net thingy.

"You're sweating," she told me.

Duh, lady. I'm freaking out. I have no idea what you're about to do to me. This room is dimly lit and there are strange Martha Stewart-like instruments of torture.

"You can close your eyes," she told me.
"Okay," I said staring at her.
She stood there, blinking: "You can close your eyes if you want to."
"Are you telling me to close my eyes?" I asked her.
"Most people do."

So I closed my eyes.

She started rubbing my face with this mineral-oil solution. At first, she was just rubbing my Then she smothered me with a hot towel. All of that was nothing compared to what was next...

My face was blasted for EIGHT MINUTES by a super-hot stream gun. Then the "extraction" process began. I don't know exactly what this thing looked like, because my eyes were covered with gauze (guess that was in case I decided to not close my eyes)...but it felt like she was dragging a vegetable peeler across my skin. This lasted for ten minutes. Then I got a gel mask that was ice cold.

Finally, she washed all this shit off my face, and I was free to get dressed. Leah took a little longer (apparently her lady gave her a hand massage--which I'm glad I didn't get). All told we spent $180. Yikes. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

As God as my witness, I'm never going back.

Thus was, my day of beauty.