So February tried to kill me yesterday. I think it gave up because i twarted it so thoroughly with my bad-assedness. It's partially my fault for continually expressing my complete loathing for this most putrid of months, but mostly it's February's fault for sucking so hard. Anyway with 12 hours to go i refuse to back down. Give me your best shot, dick-month.
Here are the two most obvious ways February tried to extinguish my life yesterday. Possibly there were other times my demise was planned, but these two things stuck out:
First, i had to open the BASP yesterday. So instead of rolling out of bed at the last second and trudging over to my boss-neighbor's already warmed up car for a ride, i had to get up early and preheat my own car. It was -24° with wind chill. My car door was frozen shut so i was exposed to the elements far longer than i had planned when i ventured outside in just a hoodie. That could have been an attempt to kill me, but we can all agree it was weak so i'm not counting it. I She-ra-ed the door open and all was well. When i actually started driving to work my brake light came on. My brakes were a tad soft but i wasn't too worried. I knew i probably just needed some fluid - something i could easily remedy between shifts. After the BASP i was driving home, going down Dodge Street hill/curve when BLAMMO! no brakes. None. Gone. Car in front of me, going 35, headed right for a red light. Miraculously, the light turned green and i skidded around the right turn without killing myself or anyone else. Stupid February didn't realize there was no school yesterday. If there had been, i definitely would have slammed into a minivan driven by a parent who had just dropped their kids off at the school right there or plowed through some family walking through the cross walk. I didn't touch my gas and luckily no one was coming from the opposite direction, so i made the left onto Gilbert just fine. I had to blow the stop sign at Fairchild too, and once again lucked out as no one else was at the intersection. I had enough momentum to make it to my neighborhood service station and rolled to a stop inches from the owner's truck. Nice try, February.
But, wait! It wasn't quite through with me. After filling the completely empty brake fluid chamber, my hood wouldn't latch. The main latch was stuck, but the manual one was holding so i decided i could worry about that after works. And i did. I doinked with the piece of shit for 15 minutes and got the son of a bitch to close all the way. Or so i thought. After closing BASP hours later, i hit the interstate to meet up with Reester and Silly Seesters for drinks, dinner, and some games. First semi passes me and BLAMMO! the main latch gives. The manual one held, but the hood was flapping like hell. I put on my hazards, slowed my roll, and got off at the next exit which was 6 white-knuckled miles down the road. I jumped up and down on that motherfucker and banged the shit out of it with a ratchet. It just would not budge. I took the back roads at 45 and avoided having the hood flip up, break my windshield, obstruct my vision, and kill me. Again, well played, February, but i win this round too.
First thing this morning i yanked open that hood and slammed it shut with all the force of a Hulk Smash. Fixed it. Works like a goddamn charm. Guess i just made February my bitch.