Yesterday, Monday was a different day in many ways. I may have met someone. With all of my dating fiascoes, it was about time. This time around I've invested quite a bit of time searching and fine tuning my choice and I think that effort is slowly paying off, but more on that after I know more.
My new friend called me from one of her favorite restaurants in Phoenix. A place that I have been going to for about 3o years. It's located in the heart of the ghetto and appeals to a wide variety of the populous and more importantly, a lot of cops go there, creating a safer atmosphere and lets face it, the cops know their foods! The best place to get criminal relief is Crispy Creme and that ain't no coincidence!
I'm talking about non other than the famous Knocked Kneed Lobster on 32nd Street and Washington, but I used to go there when they were located at 24th and Washington, next door to the Canine Country Club, back in the 70's. So a couple of days ago, when this phone call took place, I began thinking about some deep fried Icelandic cod, cooked to perfection and coated with the crunchiest outer batter that you've ever tasted, dipped into their secret cocktail sauce that I personally have been trying to recreate for many years and got hungry. Go figure. I decided a trip to the Southern part of town was due and texted my new friend to join me there, if she wanted. I arrived at about 1:45 and noticed a text on my phone that said my friend was at Keirland, shopping, but next time for sure.
Suddenly they announced that number 955 was ready and in a trance I approached the counter, carefully lifting my 2 piece order and carefully carrying it to my table. I don't really remember the entire experience, as I went off into a cod induced trance, until I notice that the only think left was the fries. Realizing I'd already consumed enough old fashioned lard to last a lifetime, I stood and left, leaving deep fried heaven behind.
Driving up the Squaw Peek, I noticed that a slight sputtering of my cars engine, but it shortly stopped acting up and smoothed out. I'd had this same problem about a week ago, so I called Paul, my mechanic and he said it probably had a little water in the gas tank since it started right after I'd filled up.
Knowing that I'd had a $65 gift card from Sears in my pocket since last fall, as a rebate for the purchase of my new washer, I headed towards Paradise Valley Mall, determined to find something at Sears that I needed, although I'd tried already once before and they virtually had nothing I wanted.
Since moving into my new house, I now am the proud recipient of a backyard full of the dreaded grass. Although I have a lawn mover, I am in need of a weed whacker. I swore many years ago that lawn work was in my past, but evidently not. I walked along smiling at people that were anxious to assist me. The store was virtually empty of customers and I got a big laugh at some signage that said, "Customers, please line up here" in front of a cashier that was filing her nails. They wish, huh?
Now is it just me, or has everyone else noticed that Sears no longer has all of the things you used to get at Sears? Sure they have appliances, but the Sears catalogue has been gone for decades and when I needed a gift for MJ's granddaughter's birthday, I went to Sears and was told they no longer carry toys! Yikes, we used to love to hang out in the toy department as kids and wish we had all the stuff they sold. Gone, just gone along with the memories!
So I finally made it over to the lawn section where a rather fat guy about 30 years old with a greasy Mohawk haircut asked if he could help me. Well, you know what I wanted to say, don't you? But instead I asked for the cheapest weed whacker they carry. He said, I'll assume you want electric? I said yes, and he showed me one for $29.95. Without thinking, I said, I'll take it. He looked around and told me he was out of them. I said, good I'll take the demo and asked for a cool 10% off. With his gnarly smile, he said he's not allowed to sell the demo, but hold on. He goes to his computer and announces he's got 15 in stock. I say, good I'll take one. Standing there with his hands now in his pockets, he tells me he doesn't know where they are and calls Ralph, the pot bellied manager. Ralph, the peacemaker is informed of the problem and also takes his turn at standing there with a blank look on his face. They are both looking at me now.
I kind of felt it building in me, like a volcano about to erupt. I wasn't mad, just disgusted. Here is a store that's complete void of customers, with a staff that's lacking anything that resembles expertise, with a customer begging to buy and no one knows what to do. I said, "This is Sears where satisfaction is guaranteed, isn't it. So sell me the one that is marked $39.95 for the $29.95 price and keep your reputation intact."! Ralph and Mohawk man both agreed and did a high five. I continued to bite my lip not to burst out laughing, paid for my purchase and left. Here is where Karma bit me in the ass.
I go out to the parking lot with my purchase in hand, climb into my car and turn the key to hear a strong battery but a stumbling engine. It started but wouldn't let me feed it gas. It died, never to return. The fuel pump is my diagnosis and not for the first time. I just replaced the fuel pump at a cost of about $500 not even a year ago. I called Paul who told me to bring it in. Yeah, right. Standing in the sun and thank God we had a reprieve from the heat and it only for to about 83 yesterday, I shopped around calling tow companies for the tow to Paul's. Believe it of not, my AAA membership had expired and I refused to join again. I got prices from $125 down to $60 for the same tow job. The guy for $60 said he could come right over and I paid him an extra $10 for a ride home.
Today I assembled my new weed whacker, but I'll be damned if I can get myself to go outside and start "Whackin' My Weeds"!